#whatever shirt james wears will already have glitter on it

[ultravioletbrit]

“glitter” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 174 words

 

Regulus is sitting on the bathroom counter with James standing between his legs. He twists to set his eye shadow palette down and pick up something else. James is already opening his mouth to protest.

“No glitter.” He says, trying to take a step back but he doesn’t get very far.

“Yes glitter.” Regulus wraps his legs around James pulling him back in– which is unfair for multiple reasons.

“Reg.”

“James.”

“No. Glitter.” James tries again and Regulus puts his hands on his hips.

“What’s wrong with glitter, huh? Is it too–”

“It’s too messy.” James cuts him off. “It’s a bitch to clean, makeup wipes never get all of it off, and whatever shirt I wear, I’ll be finding glitter on it for weeks.” James is firm in his decision and he will not budge.

Regulus pouts and James crumbles.

“You know, that’s not going to work on me forever.” James grumbles as he leans in to let Regulus put glitter on his eyes and cheeks.

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.” Regulus smirks.

[aniwahstan]

Marauders + Jegulus: Pride Fest 1999

Art by the lovely @juksuart

Regulus wanders back into James’ room just as he’s come from the shower, towel wrapped around himself. Glistening from head to toe. Regulus takes his turn to wash-up, and by the time he gets back to the room, James is already sporting a neon outfit of golds and reds.

Regulus sighs - already knowing he won’t have anything appropriate to wear today.

“I don’t have any flashy clothes for today.”

James freezes and looks at Regulus from the other side of the bed. “Who said you have to look flashy? Wear whatever makes you feel best. That’s the whole point.”

Regulus lets James help with putting together an outfit. High-waisted corduroys, and a white shirt tucked in. Converse and a brown belt. ‘A classic look’, James called it as he kissed him on the cheek with his hands looped into Regulus’ belt.

The train toward San Francisco is packed with people in rainbow and glitter and neon. There are drag queens to the left, sweet young high schoolers who look nervous in their rainbow shirts to the right. There’s an old woman by the door who looks like she’s about to open the train doors and throw herself out to get away from the gay army surrounding her.

James calls over a young girl who’s offering face paint and whispers into her ear. She smiles and hovers over Regulus, paintbrush in hand.

Regulus almost protests, but who is he to deny James or this young girl the pleasure of giving him a new look? So he tilts his head up and lets her get to work. Sirius lets the girl's friend braid his dark waves into two braids, sticking tiny flowers into each weave as she goes. When Regulus’ face is done, James hands both girls a few dollars while Regulus stares at the train window trying to catch his reflection. Green and yellow and black glittered stars mark both of his cheeks. Not too flashy, but something to show he’s celebrating. He loves it.

A brief flash of his mother’s face passes through his thoughts. What she would say if she could see her sons, covered in flowers and glitter. Soft and sparkly and so very much alive. He leans his back head against the seat and closes his eyes at the thought. That in their battle for the life the Black sons will live, Walburga has lost. Regulus doesn’t normally think of his life as a game, but as he sits on this train surrounded by the revelry, he feels like he’s won something.

They take the stairs out of the station and appear on a street that looks like a rainbow has thrown-up all over it. There are streamers floating in the sky. Balloon arches. Floats moving by over a sea of bodies cheering. A huge, hairy man in nothing more than biker shorts passes by them with a small man on his shoulders. A waterfall of glitter cascades over them as the man from above tosses handfuls of gold and pink from his palm. “Happy Pride!”

They all wave and return the sentiment as he’s carried away by his man-carriage. James puts an arm around Regulus as they start to move through the crowds. It’s the first time they’ve touched like this. Publicly. In front of everyone. Sirius shoots James a bullying look briefly before softening and pecking James on the cheek. “I’m heartbroken you’ve left me for the shorter version of me. Just so you know.”

James chuckles as his arm tightens around Regulus. “Your boyfriend is literally standing right there.”

Remus looks over at the two of them. “You can have him anytime, James. He’s a menace.”

Sirius takes a sharp inhale in at the comment, faking shock and awe. “Come on, we have like twenty blocks to where Marlene told us to meet her.”

It’s difficult for Regulus not to stop every few minutes and stare at one thing or another. He silently blesses Peter when he forces them all to stop so they can each get a hot dog from a stand whose owner is wearing a speedo that has a hotdog print all over it. Madness. Beautiful, strange madness.

Peter hands one to Regulus, then to everyone else in a line. “You all have to promise this will not be your last meal of the day. I’m looking at you, Sirius.”

Sirius is mid-swig of a water bottle filled to the brim with tequila. He puts the bottle down and takes a big bite. “Happy?”

James pulls Regulus through the crowd, past drag queens dancing to Cher, and hordes of couples making out in the middle of the street. Regulus stops to stare at a young couple dancing forehead to forehead as more floats pass behind them in the parade. They don’t even seem to notice. They’re lost in each other. Regulus’ chest feels like it’s going to burst out of nowhere. His cheeks feel tight, and he doesn’t quite understand why, but he feels tears threatening to fall.

James approaches behind him, lacing his arms around his waist and burying his nose into Regulus’ neck. “Is it too much?”

There it is. An actual fucking tear falling from his eye. He turns to look at James, shaking his head, embarrassed at his emotional reaction to the scene around them. “It’s not too much. It’s incredible.”

James grins down at him and kisses him. In public. Like it’s a normal thing to do. He had no idea. That kissing a boy could ever feel like that. Normal. Just a faceless couple in the crowd

“Drink?”

Regulus takes the water bottle from James’ hand and takes a sip of the burning alcohol. He coughs a bit before going for a second one.

On their way to search for Marlene, they pass sponsored business floats and dykes on bikes. AIDS activists and anti-animal testing banners. Purple lowriders carrying men in their sixties. Dogs with rainbow collars. Men with rainbow collars. Everything.

They finally find Marlene in the waves of moving crowds. She’s wrapped under the arm of a tall Black woman with an afro, who’s wearing an entire bodysuit of white fishnet that contrasts perfectly against her skin. Go Marlene.

“Mary,” she says as she shakes each of their hands individually. “Are you all ready?”

They all eye each other, not a clue what she’s talking about.

Remus steps up for all of them. “Ready for what?”

Marlene snickers behind Mary and turns her gaze toward a small set of stairs leading up to a float that looks halfway between a disco club and punk club. Bright pinks and skulls, painted black exes next to golden unicorns. There’s a huge banner at the back that reads 'Amoeba Music'.

Marlene puts a hand on Peter and Sirius’ shoulders. “We used the money from open mic night to pay for the parade slot.”

James’ mouth falls open next to Regulus. “No fucking way.”

Sirius is the first to sprint up the stairs, herding them all from the top of the float once he gets to the rail.

They all climb up as Mary and Marlene are passing around bottles of cold water and beer from a cooler. They all drink at least half a bottle of water at Peter’s demand before moving to the beer.

Marlene moves to the sound system and looks over at their little group. “I think this parade could use some real music. Agreed?”

She presses play as Sirius cheers and chugs the rest of the beer in his hand. Buddy Holly by Weezer starts blaring through the entire float. Half of the crowd erupts around them just as the float starts to move to join the procession of the parade.

They all find a spot against the rail so they can witness the sea of people as far as the eye can see. Regulus can hardly believe a celebration of queer joy this big is even legal. He’s never felt so right. So safe, in a crowd of humans he’s never met. All here for the same reason - to find acceptance. To know that not only are they not alone, but they are surrounded by others like them. Fuck, it is brilliant.

The music shifts to No Doubt’s Don’t Speak, which drives everyone on the float and within earshot of the speakers into a frenzy. Arms are thrown in the air. Cheers erupt from all sides. No Doubt is perhaps one of the only pop bands that Regulus agrees deserves the hype. James pulls him in as Gwen’s voice starts over the speakers. He puts his hands where they belong. One on each side of Regulus’ neck.

He pulls Regulus in and kisses him shamelessly, with thousands of people below them still cheering and hollering. Regulus knows it’s for the parade. For the song. But it doesn’t matter. As they stand there, tongue tied on top of the world, he lets the cheers be for him. For James. For how they found each other in the shuffle of a world that aims to beat them down and pretend they’ll go away some day. But nothing has ever felt so solid to Regulus as James’ hands on him. Displaying what they have to every person who matters in the entire Bay Area.

The music suddenly gets extremely loud, distracting both of them from their heated embrace. Show Me Love by Robyn begins just as they both turn to see Marlene and Peter cheering and clapping, witnessing their public display. Marlene winks at them while James shakes his head at the cheesy pop song she’s chosen as the soundtrack for their pillar of unashamed affection.

Regulus doesn’t care what’s playing. He grabs James’ hands and brings them back to his neck.

Let them watch. He’s proud of what holds him.

Excerpt from fic: Meet On Telegraph Avenue

[fruitcoops]

okay so: coops and jily do the couple fear pong challenge (couple vs couple fear pong by cut for reference)?? pleaseee - m

Anon, you definitely read my mind with this. I’ve had this idea in the works for almost a month and I’m so glad you suggested it!! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol (beer)

“Are you ready to lose?” James asked as he set up a few lines of red Solo cups.

“Try me,” Remus shot back with a grin. Their respective partners shared an exasperated look.

“Hello, hockey fans, and welcome to Fear Pong! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon.” Marlene set an armful of beer bottles on the ping pong table and began filling each team’s cups halfway.

“I’m Lily Potter, and this is my husband James.” Lily waved to the camera and stole one of Marlene’s bottles to take a sip. “Ugh. It’s like wheat-flavored moonshine.”

“I think she takes it as a challenge to find the worst alcohol,” Remus mused. “I’m Remus Lupin, the best winger on the Lions.”

“Shut it, Loops.”

“Bite me, Pots.”

“And I’m Sirius Black, the team captain,” Sirius said. “As you can see, this is going to get out of hand very fast.”

Marlene leaned on the table, looking between them with a grave expression. “The rules are simple. If you throw the ball and it lands in a cup, you have to do the dare on the coaster or drink the beer. The team who drinks all their cups first, loses. We’ll do the deadliest of games to decide who goes first: rock, paper, scissors. Choose your champions.”

Sirius and James moved to the front of the table. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Shit,” Sirius muttered as James’ paper defeated his rock.

James grinned as he headed back to his place. “I can already taste victory.” Lily took careful aim, and the ball landed perfectly in the center of their cups. “That’s my wife, everybody!”

Remus rolled his eyes and picked up the coaster. “Leave five hickeys on your teammate. Your opponent chooses where. Aw, man, everyone’s going to see them at practice.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to chicken out and drink?”

His jaw ticked. “Where.”

“One on his cheek, the rest on his neck.”

Sirius leaned down with a heavy sigh and Remus worked a hickey onto his cheek, pulling away with a soft pop and appraising it. “Not bad. Four more?”

“Four more.”

It took less than a minute for the rest of the marks to appear in a light lilac color. Remus licked his lips and picked up the ball. “Those are such weak hickeys!” James protested. “Come on, Loops, you’re better than that.”

“And yet they’re already done.” He picked up the ball and readied it. “Tragic.”

A few droplets of beer splashed out of the cup and Lily lit up when she read the dare. “Switch outfits with your partner. Oh, baby, you’re going to look gorgeous!”

“Do we get a screen or something?” James asked as Lily began unzipping the back of her dress. Two camera crew members came over with a large blanket and they stepped behind it; after a couple minutes of rustling, Lily emerged in her husband’s too-big sweatshirt with the cuffs of his jeans rolled up.

“Do you need a hand with the zipper?” she asked with a light laugh.

“Got it. Oh, wow, I look hot.” James came into view and Sirius held a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The floral dress fell to his mid-thigh and the low neckline exposed quite a bit of his chest. He swayed back and forth, making the skirt twirl slightly. “Very breathy.”

“Alright, handsome, your turn.” Lily handed him the ball and he shot it—it bounced off the rim and Remus whooped.

“I can already taste victory,” he mimicked in a terrible Boston accent; James threw the backup ball at him and it smacked him in the forehead. “Ow!”

Unfortunately, Sirius’ throw also went wide, ending up down Lily’s baggy shirt. “Hang on, it’s in my cleavage. Nice aim, Cap.” She dug around for a moment as Sirius flushed, then emerged with the ball, giving it an elegant toss.

“Damn it,” Sirius muttered as he took the coaster. “Make out with your teammate for a minute, but one of you can’t move their lips or tongue. Again with the kissing? Really? Can’t we just switch clothes and call it a day?”

“Come on down to the front, pardner.” Marlene said with a false Southern twang, patting the backs of the two folding chairs she had set up. “Get your smooch on.”

“I can’t move my face, right?” Remus asked as he sat down across from Sirius. Marlene shook her head.

“Get it, Cap!” Lily cheered as he reached out to cup Remus’ jaw in his hands.

Sirius had to turn away and laugh for a second, rolling his shoulders out. “Okay, ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Why do you look like you’re gearing up for a game?” Sirius flicked him on the thigh and Remus pressed his lips together, still smiling slightly.

He started soft, placing slow kisses all over Remus’ mouth. “It says ‘make out’, Cap, come on!” James complained. “If that’s your idea of making out, you need to apologize to your fiancé.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and Sirius huffed a sigh, leaning back in for a proper kiss with a significant increase in tongue. Lily whooped and Remus’ shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter—Sirius moved his hands to down to steady him as the timer continued counting.

“Ten seconds!” Marlene warned. The final buzzer went off and Sirius pulled away, wiping at his lips.

“That felt so weird,” Remus said as he dried his mouth off with his sleeve and tugged Sirius in by his wrist. “C’mere.”

Sirius bent down for a quick kiss before they walked back to their side. “Alright, our turn.”

“I get to throw it this time.”

“What? Why?”

Remus took the ball out of his hand and kissed his cheek. “I say this with all the love in the world, but you suck at beer pong. So does Pots, if that makes you feel better.” His shot spun around the rim of a cup before falling in with a clatter.

“Take an article of clothing off for every sexual partner you’ve had,” James read. “Aw, come on, I’m only wearing a dress and none of you want to see me naked.”

“You’re not wearing underwear?” Sirius looked mildly alarmed.

“I’ve had more than two partners, dude.”

Lily shrugged. “I’m not about to protest seeing you naked.”

“I would!” Remus and Sirius chorused with equal measures of horror. James rolled his eyes and downed the cup.

“James, you have to throw it,” Marlene interrupted as he handed the ball to Lily. “You need to switch each time.”

“Shit,” Lily muttered, giving it back. “Don’t fuck this up for us, honeybun.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He took careful aim, tossed it, and landed a perfect shot in one of the cups without a coaster. Sirius and Remus groaned as Lily cheered. “Hell yeah!”

Remus drank the beer as Sirius lined up the ball; it sailed through the air and bounced off two cups before sinking into the third. They high-fived with both hands while Lily took the dare out. “Call your parents and tell them you’re pregnant—oh, we can’t do this.”

“Why?” Remus snorted. “You’ve already done it once.”

“I would break my mother’s heart if she found out it was a prank.” James shook his head and passed Lily the cup. “I would get the lecture of a lifetime.”

“Can you imagine pranking poor Effie with fake grandbabies?” Lily asked as she drank.

“The guilt would eat me alive,” Sirius agreed. Lily lined up for another shot. “Miss, miss, miss, miss—fuck.”

“Call a friend and ask for a threesome.” Remus’ eyebrows shot up and he looked at Sirius. “As much as I want to win this game, there’s no way we’re doing that.”

“Hell no, I’m the captain. That’s an abuse of power or something.” Sirius drained the cup and set it aside, moving so Remus could get a better angle for his throw. It landed in one of the cups they had already hit and Lily cursed as she drank again.

“Marley, we need to have a talk about your alcohol.”

“I want you guys to know that I specifically asked for the shittiest beer they had that would get people drunk real quick,” Marlene said off screen. “It comes from a place of love.”

They traded three more shots back and forth, each one bouncing off the table or threatening to take someone’s eye out before James got a lucky shot. “I thought you said he was bad at this!” Sirius protested as he took the dare out.

“I thought he was!” Remus defended. “What do we have to do?”

“Let them paint us with glue and pour glitter on us.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Shirts off, unless you want to ruin them,” Marlene said as she carted two containers of glue and some small buckets of glitter out. Remus and Sirius obliged, then stood on the clear tarp she had laid out. “Pots, Lils, go nuts.”

“This is the best day of my life,” James said gleefully as he took a paintbrush and began drawing a wobbly smiley face on Sirius’ torso.

“It’s so drippy.” Sirius let out a long exhale and bounced on his toes as James added polka dots and squiggles all over the place.

“What are you writing?” Remus asked as Lily began touching up her work. “Are those words?”

“Maybe. Glitter time!” Without further ado, she dug her hand into the bucket and threw a handful at Remus’ chest. It exploded in a small poof and only some of it stuck; he wrinkled his nose.

“It’s in my mouth.”

“Gay rights—oh shit that’s cold!” Sirius yelped, batting James away. “Just do the glitter already!”

“Don’t rush an artist!” Nevertheless, James went over and shook about half the bucket onto Sirius.

He spat out a mouthful of sparkles and glared. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that was necessary.”

“Whatever you want, David Bowie.”

“He looks more like Freddie Mercury to me,” Lily mused as she continued sprinkling glitter over Remus, revealing her name written in careful cursive. “This is going to be such a pain to wash off, you two.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Remus shook his hair out and a small waterfall of glitter fell out onto the tarp.

“Back to your stations, everyone!” Marlene called.

The game only got rowdier after that as each team did everything in their power to prevent dares, ranging from shaking the table to sneezing loudly each time someone squared up for a shot. Remus finally sank one and nearly smacked Sirius in the face with his celebratory fist pump as Lily groaned.

“Let the opponent pour ice water down your pants.” James frowned and looked to the camera crew. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

“You’re wearing underwear,” Marlene pointed out. His eyes went wide as she came out with two bowls of ice water and handed them to Sirius and Remus, whose smiles were downright maniacal.

“I really hope you’re done having kids,” Sirius said as James turned around. “On three. One, two—”

Both of them shouted in shock; Remus burst out laughing as Sirius shook the final few ice cubes into James’ underwear. “That was not three!” Lily tugged at her pantlegs and ice cascaded out, darkening the fabric along the way. “Aw, it looks like I peed myself.”

James braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, taking deep, slow breaths. “I can’t feel my balls,” he managed. “Holy fuck, that’s so weird.”

“It’s like a punch bowl down there.” Lily grimaced and picked up the ping pong ball. “I hope you two are ready for payback.”

Her throw was immaculate, despite both Sirius and Remus blowing on it as it arced over the table. “This is terribly convenient,” Remus said. “Wear a childbirth simulator for fifteen seconds each.”

“Fifteen seconds?” Lily swung around to the camera in disbelief. “I was in labor for four hours!”

“You’re also way stronger than we are,” Remus laughed as Sirius helped Marlene drag a beanbag out onto the glittery tarp.

“Who’s up first?” she asked.

“Sirius,” Lily said without hesitating. “He kicked off my labor, he gets to know what it felt like.”

“Do I get any choice in this?” Sirius asked, though he was already laying down and brushing glitter off his torso to make room for the sensors. Lily took the remote and pressed a few buttons. “Should I apologize now or—shit! Shit, shit, mon dieu, c’est horrible, s’il vous plait, owwwww.”

His hand collided with Remus’ and he grabbed it, squeezing it tight as James watched, wide-eyed, from the sidelines. “Baby, you’re going to break my hand,” Remus wheezed.

Marlene’s timer went off and Sirius scrambled to tear the sticky pads off, practically throwing himself off the beanbag. “That was hell. Lily, don’t ever feel like you need to have children again.”

Remus swallowed thickly as he took Sirius’ place, settling back into the cushions. “Hold my hand?”

“Please don’t break my fingers.”

Remus’ knee jerked up on reflex as soon as Lily turned it on and he yelled, eyes flaring wide with surprise. “Motherfucker! Ohhhh my god this is what death feels like. This is what death feels like, I hate I hate it Sirius Black do not let go of my hand.”

“Four hours,” Lily said mildly as he gritted his teeth and Sirius winced at his grip.

The cheerful jingling of the timer made Remus nearly sob with relief; he peeled the sensors off his skin and immediately went over to hug Lily. “You are the most incredible person I know. Please never make us do that again.”

“You chose to do it, Glitter Boy,” she laughed, giving him a playful shove after returning the hug. “Fire away, Cap.”

James had to drink, then Remus, then Lily, and after her shot went wide, Sirius landed a miracle throw. “Let the opposing team shave your head,” James read. He looked up at them and narrowed his eyes. “Touch my hair and I’ll end you.”

“We only have two left,” Lily warned as he took the cup and drank it. “And only one has a dare.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my hair to win bragging rights.”

His next shot was a laser throw that nearly knocked over the cup it landed in. Sirius’ shoulders slumped when he took the coaster. “Let the opponent smash a pie in your face.”

“Could be worse.” Remus shrugged. “I’m glad I didn’t wear my nice pants today.”

“These chairs are going to live in my nightmares,” he said as they returned to the tarp. Lily and James carefully took the whipped-cream pies from the camera crew.

“Woah, what’s that?!” Lily shouted all of a sudden. Remus startled, turning to look at her, only to get a full pie slammed directly into his face. James didn’t hesitate—he really put his hips into it, and some whipped cream splattered back onto the table.

“Moisturizing is very important,” he said, rubbing the pie in slow circles around Sirius’ face until almost all of it was coating his skin. “Sugar scrubs are all the rage.”

“Do I look exfoliated, sweetheart?” Sirius asked, turning in Remus’ general direction.

“If I could see anything right now, I would say no.” Remus wiped his eyes off and flicked the cream at Lily, who quickly stepped backwards. Sirius leaned over and licked Remus’ cheek, laughing, until Remus grabbed Lily’s mostly-empty pie tin and shoved it in his face.

“I deserved that,” he said, voice muffled by aluminum and filling.

The video cut for a moment, and when it returned, the four of them were pie-free and back at the table. The game had clearly continued off-camera, because each team only had one cup left. Their cheeks were significantly more flushed than before.

“Just out of curiosity,” Marlene cut in as Sirius picked up the ball. “On a scale of 1-10, how drunk do you think you are right now?”

Lily made a face. “Maybe, like, a four?”

“Three,” James said.

“Yeah, three.” Sirius hiccupped at the end of his sentence, clearly startling himself. “…three and a half.”

“I’ll have to agree with the collective,” Remus said. “Not anywhere close to drunk drunk, because it’s shitty beer, but pleasantly buzzed. Take the average of everyone else and that’s…about three and a third? The math is skewed if Sirius goes with three and a half instead. I dunno.”

There was a beat of quiet before James shook his head. “Only you would do tipsy math to calculate how drunk you are instead of guesstimating like the rest of us. Fuckin’ nerd.”

“Fuck off, you can’t even do addition.”

Sirius threw the ping pong ball before the argument could get any more heated and it bounced off the table, hitting James right on the cheek. “Oops.”

“Hey!” It was James’ turn to throw next, and he deliberately aimed for Sirius’ face—Sirius ducked and it flew past him, hitting something off screen with a clatter. “Sorry!”

“Ha! That’s what you get.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took the ball; it went into James and Lily’s final cup despite their defense tactics. “Ah, shit,” Lily muttered as she picked up the coaster. “Pour beer into your partner’s mouth using only your feet. J, do you trust me with this?”

“I love you, but no.”

“That’s fair. To the tarp!”

Remus and Sirius watched with far too much glee as Lily laid down and Marlene put a fresh beer cup between the soles of James’ feet. “Ready?” he asked her. She nodded and opened her mouth as he began slowly tilting it.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Remus and Sirius chanted from the sidelines. About halfway through, the cheap plastic cup folded and rolled out of James’ grip, bouncing off Lily’s nose and falling to the floor.

She sat up quickly, checking her hair as the last of the liquid formed a puddle on the tarp. “Is it in my hair?”

All three men squinted at her. “Nope,” James said after a moment. “All good. Did we complete the dare?”

Marlene made an ‘ehh’ noise as she tossed them a towel to mop up the spill. “You didn’t finish the cup…”

“The coaster said nothing about finishing!” Sirius protested. “They did what they were asked.”

“Babe, we want them to lose,” Remus muttered.

Sirius winced. “Right. My bad.”

Both Remus and Lily heaved a sigh as they went back to their positions. It was Lily’s throw next—neither of them tried to prevent the inevitable and the resignation on their faces when the ball landed with a gentle plop aged them by ten years. Remus slid the coaster out. “Huh. Not bad. Let the opponent give you both three-minute makeovers.”

“Dibs on Remus,” Lily said immediately. He looked rather flattered by that and Sirius groaned.

“Pots, I don’t trust you with makeup.”

“Smart boy. Get over here and let me make you handsome.” James grinned and took the container of makeup supplies from Marlene, patting the two chairs at the front. “Lils, I don’t know what half this stuff is.”

“That just makes it more fun!” she said cheerfully as Remus sat down and she rummaged through the various bottles and brushes. “If we only have three minutes, I think we should do something simple and pretty. The glitter is really going to make it better.”

“Three minutes is so much time!” James laughed. Both Marlene and Lily gave him incredulous looks. “No?”

“Honey, it takes me twenty minutes to do a full face of makeup in the morning.”

“Jesus.”

“Time starts…now!” Marlene tapped her phone and Lily uncapped a dark pencil; Remus leaned away from her as she neared his face with it.

“What is that?”

“Eyeliner.”

“Please don’t blind me.”

Lily scoffed. “Have a little faith, Loops.”

James on the other hand, grabbed some mascara and began shakily applying it to Sirius’ lashes. “This is surprisingly difficult. How do I know if it’s working?”

“Usually you can see the color transfer over.”

“My eyelashes are already black,” Sirius said, wincing as James jabbed the side of his nose. “Watch it.”

“They’re also really long,” Lily said as she continued drawing a steady line along Remus’ lids. “Mascara might not do very much for the lucky bastard.”

“It’s not my fault I have long eyelashes!” Sirius protested as James moved on to the second eye.

“Do you have any idea how many women would kill do have those?”

“Ten seconds!” Marlene called. Lily swore under her breath and began putting the finishing touches on the second eye. “And…done!”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel hot as hell,” Remus laughed, batting his eyes at the camera. Marlene handed him a mirror and his eyebrows rose. “Thank you, Lily, I look so fancy.”

“My eyes are sticking together.” Sirius grimaced and blinked a few times so the clumpy mascara would settle. He looked over at Remus and went still.

“What?”

“You—hmm.” He paused for a second. “You look really nice. Very punk rock.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. Some of your glitter stuck to the mascara, so you’re very sparkly right now.”

“Re, you have light eyes, which helped a bit,” Lily explained as she tossed the eyeliner and mascara into the makeup container. “Contrasting colors always pop better, and everyone looks sexy in eyeliner.”

“I wore it for Halloween last year and it was awesome,” James said, heading back to the table.

“Final throws!” Marlene called. All four of them looked over in surprise. “Did you all forget the point of the game? Loser is whoever drinks their cup first.”

Remus turned Sirius by his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Please, please don’t miss this throw.”

“As if I’m letting James fucking Potter beat us in beer pong,” Sirius scoffed, kissing his forehead before lining up for the shot; it bounced off the rim and dropped right in. The room exploded into noise as Marlene blew the victory airhorn and Remus and Sirius began jumping up and down, yelling incoherently. James and Lily both groaned as he drank their last cup.

“Do we get a prize?” Remus asked.

“Bragging rights,” Marlene said as she took their empty cups. “I might have some Lions merch—”

Four hasty ‘no thank you’s answered and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Alright, sign us off!”

“Thanks for watching, Lions! I’m Sirius Black—”

“I’m Remus Lupin.”

“I’m Lily Potter.”

“And I’m James Potter.”

Marlene popped into view one more time. “Quick disclaimer: we do have a designated driver waiting today. Remember to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

A detailed list of shit the Marauders reveal when they down Veritaserum-spiked drinks (yes, it is all Sirius’ fault)

Sirius 1. The true horrors his family have inflicted on him

RESULT: James and Remus get so angry they turn slightly murderous, Mcgonogall and Dumbledore are informed, Mcgonogall adopts Sirius and Regulus for the time being while James arranges things with his parents (from then on, “Minnie” sounds more like “Mom”, so Mcgonogall lets him call her that. Even in class).

2. His love for Remus

RESULT: Nothing. He and Remus have been together since they were thirteen. There’s just a lot of blushing and giggling and things that James would rather have never seen.

3. How much he cares about Regulus

RESULT: Regulus starts to sit with the Marauders at lunch. Sirius will randomly grab his hand while they’re walking around. There’s a lot more affection and sweetness between the two of them now.

4. How much he fucking adores James (“I think you’re my soulmate, Jamie, you know that? Not like the lovey-dovey romancey kind, because yuck and also Remus Lupin exists, Jamie, and have you seen him, but Jamie, I - fuck, I just love you so much -” and James just blushes and beams super wide)

RESULT: James and Sirius start to refer to each other as “soulmate” as well as “best friend” and “brother”, including to casual strangers. To assure Remus of how much he loves him though, Sirius makes sure to call Remus “the love of my life” and “my only one” and “the moon to my stars” and “Moony, my love” and other mushy-gushy bullshit we don’t have time for right now.

5. How he thinks he’s a terrible person in every sense of the word

RESULT: Remus, James, and Peter start to make a list of everything they love about him in a notebook. Every time someone, anyone, says something they like about Sirius, the Marauders force them to write it down and sign their name. When the notebook is full, they wrap it up and give it to him for Christmas. He’s already on the verge of tears, and then they show him the new one they got a week ago that’s already half full, and he starts bawling so hard he can’t breathe.

Remus

1. All of his anger at the world

RESULT: Severus may or may not have started an impromptu class strike with every Hogwarts student who wasn’t a Death Eater in support of werewolf rights. James and Sirius may or may not have barricaded the school from the Ministry officials who came to shut it down. Peter, Lily, and Regulus may or may not have collected petitions from wizards and witches all over the world in support of werewolf rights. And the Ministry definitely changed the laws.

2. Just how much he loves Sirius even if he’s constantly afraid to show it

RESULT: Sirius and Remus eloped in sixth year without telling anyone. When James finds out he loses his shit at not being there to be their best man. Sirius starts responding to all of the people who ask him out with “Sorry, I’m a married man” and signs all of his school assignments Sirius Lupin. It drives Mcgonogall nuts. Remus sneaks out for months to arrange them a makeshift wedding on the grounds. This involves decorating trees and making them all flowercrowns and creating veils and dresses for both of them. Sirius cries when he sees it. They get married at midnight, with Severus officiating and James and Regulus standing as Sirius’ groomspeople and Lily and Peter as Remus’. Dumbledore and Mcgonogall are their witnesses. It’s gay and it’s beautiful.

3. How much he hates himself

RESULT: They all work on complimenting him more. Though they assure him they love his scars and his body exactly as they are, Sirius and Lily offer to teach Remus how to do makeup to cover them up. Peter learns how to keep his hands steady so he can paint Remus’ nails because he knows it makes him feel beautiful. Regulus learns the best Muggle clothing shops from Amir and James smuggles Remus out to shop there and buys him whatever he wants. Severus keeps creating spells and potions and researching old texts until he finds a way to cure lycanthropy.

4. How he’s sort of casually suicidal because he just keeps asking himself what there is to live for

RESULT: They clear their dorm of anything he can hurt himself with. They’re extra protective leading up to, during, and following the full moon. And  they remind him every day that they love him. Every day.

5. How ugly he thinks he is and how beautiful he thinks Sirius is

RESULT: This is really up to Sirius to fix. It’s a lot of kissing Remus’ scars and casually referring to him as beautiful (“How are you today, beautiful?”). And Sirius makes Remus mixtapes. Hundreds of songs reminding him how beautiful he is in Sirius’ eyes. It doesn’t work. Remus still doesn’t think he’s beautiful. But he knows Sirius thinks he is, and for now, that is going to have to be enough.

6. How he doesn’t think he deserves to be a Marauder or have Sirius’ love

RESULT: They try to include him more. They make sure to tell him how brilliant his plans and ideas are. They know that when it comes to his self-esteem, there’s not much they can do. But they try. They try so, so hard.

7. His gigantic inferiority complex

RESULT: You’d think it would be something sweet, but they just yell at him any time he makes a self-deprecating comment. Sometimes Sirius angry-kisses him. Somehow this works. (They also force him to have tea therapy with Mcgonogall.)

James

1. How guilty he feels for not having to go through all the shit his friends do

RESULT: Well, for awhile they try to stop telling him about their problems, but that only makes it worse. So they settle for buying him thank you presents, except they’re all things that only the giver likes. He asks what the fuck he’s supposed to do with that Queen record Sirius wanted, sixteen bars of Remus’ favorite chocolate, and that glittery hair bow Peter wanted. They smile and tell him that they know helping them makes him feel better and that his wealth makes him feel like shit, so they’ve resolved to drain his pockets by buying gifts for themselves. James laughs so hard he can’t breathe as they all tackle him onto his bed and cuddle him for hours. (They buy him real thank you presents too. Just, y’know, all with James’ own money.)

2. His hurt feelings at Lily’s constant rejections

RESULT: Lily blurts that she hates how he flirts with her but she doesn’t hate him, she actually quite loves him really, and James’ eyes go squinty with hurt and then widen with stars and they just kind of stare at each other and blush in stunned silence until Severus blurts, “Just kiss already, why don’t you?” And they both whip towards him and he turns crimson. (This is where Sirius starts laughing.)

3. How he actually thinks Lily and Severus are really good for each other

RESULT: In response to Severus’ remark, James confesses to having not made an actual move because he truly believes that Lily and Severus are better for each other than he could be for either of them. Lily smiles slightly and Severus’ mouth drops open as he gasps, “Either of us?” James’ face burns. (This is where Remus loses it.)

4. How he doesn’t actually hate Severus, he just hates how much he wants to kiss his stupid perfect mouth

RESULT: James then fucks up further by spilling out his guts about how much he wants to kiss Severus. Severus’ eyes get so wide they worry they might pop out of his head. He reaches out and tugs James by the tie into a filthy kiss. Lily squeaks. James faints. Severus panics. (This is where Peter collapses on the floor next to Sirius and Remus in uncontrollable laughter.)

5. How he misses pranking but feels like he’s more hated for it than he is revered

RESULT: Sirius, Remus, and Peter help him come up with pranks that are fun but don’t hurt or inconvenience people too much. Severus helps add safeguards, Regulus finds targets for them, and Lily encourages them and tells James over and over that she enjoys a good bit of fun.

Lily: It should involve glitter.

James: That doesn’t even make sense -

Sirius: Shut the fuck up James, we’re using glitter.

6. How much he wants to be a good person but feels like his friends are so much better than him

RESULT: They tell him what a good friend he is as often as they can. They try to remind him of all the things he does for them and how they’d be nothing without him. He doesn’t quite believe it, but it’s still nice.

7. How he feels like he’s not doing enough to help the people around him

RESULT: They make written lists of the things he’s done for them and tape them to the bathroom mirror. (Like any melodramatic teenager, James’ breakdowns take place while gripping the sink and staring in the mirror while questioning your every life decision.) They sometimes lock him in there until he reads the whole list out loud. (When they let him out Sirius hugs him so hard he struggles to move or breathe.)

8. How he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die before all of them and he’s way more okay with that than he should be

RESULT: Remus forces him to learn even more defense spells outside of class. Sirius and Regulus teach him hand-to-hand combat. Lily and Severus make it their priority to give James reasons to enjoy life. And Peter is the one tasked with noticing when James’ mood dips and swings.

9. His repression of his bisexuality

RESULT: Remus forces him to talk for ten minutes a day about being bisexual. Sirius makes them all I LOVE MY BISEXUAL BROTHER shirts that they wear every weekend (James’ says I’M THE BISEXUAL BROTHER. Severus and Lily’s say I LOVE MY BISEXUAL BOYFRIEND. James has a matching one that says I’M THE BISEXUAL BOYFRIEND. Those get made after James is way more comfortable with who he is.) Peter will nudge James’ side every time a boy he thinks is cute walks by, and James learns to do the same in return. They tease him and love him and Sirius kisses his cheek all the time, and life is good.

10. How the happiest day of his life was when all four of the Marauders wore skirts and he felt so comfortable in his own skin and so happy and so ashamed

RESULT: Sirius starts wearing skirts to class every day. Remus wears summer dresses. Peter wears tutus. James is still hesitant, but then Severus shows up at breakfast in a soft skirt and smiles as he kisses James’ cheek and James runs upstairs and changes before his first class. Regulus tells him, “You look beautiful, Jamie,” and James throws his arms around his neck and holds on tight even as Regulus huffs in fake annoyance.

Severus

1. How he internalizes every insult the Marauders throw at him

RESULT: They stop insulting him. And apologize for every single one they’ve ever thrown his way. (And Severus is treated to the first of many hugs from Sirius and Remus - they’re the best huggers in all of the Marauders.)

2. How he used to be proud of being a Slytherin but because of them now hates himself for it

RESULT: James, Regulus, and Sirius arrange a House Pride day. It encourages interHouse mingling and everyone is decked out in their House colors. A lot of friends are made, and plenty of long-lasting relationships too. Dumbledore thinks it’s such a great idea that he makes it an annual tradition.

3. How terrified he is of the impending war

RESULT: There’s not much that can be done. But they start having family movie nights to distract themselves. Cuddle piles are common and welcome.

4. How jealous he is of Sirius and Regulus for having somewhere to go when their home life is too unbearable

RESULT: Naturally, James adopts him immediately. And Sirius and Regulus do their damndest to be his brothers. The nightmares are still there, but the causes for them are not. (Also, Severus, Sirius, and Regulus get the help of Mcgonogall and Dumbledore to create a safe haven for the kids of abusive pureblood families. It takes awhile for the secrets to come out and the pride to fall, but eventually this place is home to Narcissa, Andromeda, Lucius, Bellatrix, and quite a few others. To all of their surprise, there are multiple kids from every House in the haven (dubbed “Love Haven” as a parody of the pureist institutions called “Blood Havens”). It doesn’t excuse their behavior, but it gives them reasons to change for the better.)

5. How much he hates James for stealing his only friend and how much he hates himself for losing her and how much he loves, loves, loves James Potter despite all his efforts not to

RESULT: A lot of long, drawn out, uncomfortable conversations between James, Lily, and Severus. Even after they’re together, their insecurities get in the way. Luckily, the good times make up for the bad ones.

6. How he’s known Remus’ secret since first year and never once thought to tell

RESULT: Sirius loves him. Like, really loves him. Severus is treated to so many Sirius hugs he starts to forget what it was like before they started hugging. And Remus and Severus build themselves an unlikely friendship, one that mostly involves them sitting next to each other while reading and occasionally leaning their heads on each other’s shoulders. And Severus becomes one of the people Remus Lupin reaches for when werewolves are brought up in class. He finds, surprisingly, that holding Remus Lupin’s hand is something he just never quite wants to stop doing.

7. How the Slytherins the Marauders think are his “cronies” are actually his bullies that follow him around everywhere

RESULT: When Severus goes to class the next day, the cronies don’t look at him. They don’t speak to him. They don’t touch him. Severus asks all of the Marauders in increasingly urgent tones what they did, but they won’t say. In the end, all Severus knows is that he will never be mistreated again. Not while they’re alive.

8. How much he cares about Regulus

RESULT: Regulus will slip his hand into Severus’ a lot. They refer to each other as brothers to total strangers. In a group of Gryffindors, it’s nice to have a fellow Slytherin around to talk to. As much as they love their friends, there are just some things those headstrong Gryffindors will never understand.

9. How he feels like a freak for his asexuality

RESULT: Dumbledore opens a sex ed class at Hogwarts. (As part of his punishment for, ya know, the genocide, Grindelwald is forced to teach it. He and Dumbledore make eyes at each other the whole time, which makes Sirius and James gag and Remus and Peter laugh.) The class explores sexuality, including asexuality, and there are open discussions. Dumbledore authorizes an annual Pride at Severus and Remus’ request. There’s a lot of cake and glitter and hugs. The world is all the better for it, and they are all the happier for it.

Lily

1. How guilty she feels for loving James when she promised Severus she would only ever love him

RESULT: More awkward conversations for the three of them. And a lot of kisses, hand holding, hugs, and other assorted variations of affection between Lily and Severus.

2. How wholly and purely she loves Severus, no matter what James or anyone else says or thinks

RESULT: They apologize to Lily as well as Severus for all their remarks against him. James touches Lily’s shoulder and tells her she couldn’t have picked a better person to love, not even him, and she smiles. And James creates an organization to combat anti-Slytherin bias, which includes a lot of talking to first years and helping them be proud of who they are. Lily is at every meeting, holding tightly to Severus’ hand as she breathes in deep and blinks back happy tears. And whenever James catches her eyes, she smiles. Wide and big.

3. How she feels when James flirts with her like she’s a prize to be won rather than a human

RESULT: James apologizes. A lot. Like, more than is honestly necessary. But he also tries to amend his ways. He treats her like a person from then on; he treats the people she loves like people. He’s careful not to touch her unless she asks for it or invites him to. And she learns to trust him, that he doesn’t always mean the shitty things he says. The day she first kisses him is the day she finds out he’s asked every single girl in their year how to respectfully flirt with someone, respect boundaries, and remain unthreatening in a conversation.

4. How much she struggles with being a witch because of what her family and classmates think of her

RESULT: The Marauders work to better their classmates and professors’ minds by speaking out against pureist slurs and encouraging her to stand up for herself. And her last summer before graduating, they all travel home with her to her family and give them a talking to. (It doesn’t quite work, but, well. She has a new family now. One she chose. One she likes much, much better than her old one.)

5. How she’s never really felt like much of a girl (FTM Lily)

RESULT: Regulus helps Lily, since he’s trans, with ways to battle dysphoria and feel better about his appearance. James, Sirius, and Remus help correct people when they use the wrong pronouns, and encourage Lily by calling him “dude” and “bro” and whatever other masculine nicknames they can come up with. Peter talks to Dumbledore and Mcgonogall about all of the needed steps that should be taken to ensure Lily’s safety and comfort, and Severus buys him too many clothes and tells him he’s beautiful and helps him search for names until Lily decides he wants to keep his original one. And they all tell him how proud they are of him every day. (They also buy him a trans flag, along with every other pride flag needed for their group, and a couple hundred mini ones for every other queer student. Lily leads the school’s GSA, though it was founded by Remus and Sirius. And James smuggles them all out to Muggle Pride.)

Peter

1. How left out he feels all the time

RESULT: James, Sirius, and Remus are sure to include him in their antics. They ask him his opinion on things and let him make the plans some days. And they hug him more. There are lots and lots of group hugs.

2. How he constantly wonders if they would notice or care if he disappeared

RESULT: The seven of them start to play Hide and Seek every week around the castle. And they don’t stop until they find everyone, including Peter. It’s stupid, but it proves to Peter that even in the context of a children’s game he’s important. (He feels even better when he’s found first.)

3. How he doesn’t think they would go to the same lengths for him as they would for each other

RESULT: They hope they never end up in a situation where they have to prove this to him, but. In the meantime, they tell him how much they love and appreciate him. They do what they can for him. And they try to make things more equal between the four of them, even if that just means splitting a chocolate bar into equal pieces.

4. How he thinks he might be bi but he also thinks it doesn’t matter because nobody will ever love him, right?

RESULT: Remus actually throws a fit at this. He shouts for nearly twenty minutes about how if a werewolf like him can be loved, and he is, he knows he is, then Peter can be loved. Sirius then starts shouting at Remus, because he hates when Remus refers to himself as less than human. Their fight eventually devolves into a very fierce makeout session, at which James rolls his eyes and envelopes Peter in a hug, telling him that they love him no matter what and one day someone else is going to too. Then he grins and takes Peter’s hand, pulling him out of the dorm (as Sirius and Remus collapse on a bed that is probably not either of theirs) and down the halls to the Great Hall, where their other three friends are waiting with grins. A Hufflepuff punk looks up at Peter and smiles, and Peter’s heart lights itself on fire.

5. How much he actually cares about that nonbinary Hufflepuff Maxwell

RESULT: A nonbinary Hufflepuff named Maxwell Needles, a transfer student from Beauxbatons, is the object of Peter’s affections. The other Marauders tease Peter endlessly for his crush on the Hufflepuff, but also encourage him, and Remus and Sirius do recon work to see if Max will make a worthy Marauder, should they like Peter back. After watching them undo an entire Potions lesson in plain sight and not get caught, they decide that yes, Max is good enough for Peter. Eventually Peter works up the courage to ask Max out, and they grin at him and pull him in for a quick kiss by the tie, whispering their assent against his lips before pulling back and fluttering away, though they leave a trail of magical butterflies in their wake that follow Peter around the whole rest of the day. (Peter and Max have conversations while Max carries Peter around piggyback style.)

6. How stupid he feels compared to all of them

RESULT: They help him study, but are sure to compliment him every time he does something well. And they assure him he’s not stupid - he’s just smart in other areas. Besides, Remus notes dryly, a person as intelligent as Maxwell Needles would never love him if he weren’t at least interesting.

7. How sometimes he’s thought about joining You-Know-Who because at least then maybe they would finally see him as something other than their tag-along laughing stock

RESULT: They assure him of his worth, and they make him promise to tell them every time he thinks about giving in to the Dark. They know there’s very little they can do if he chooses to become a Death Eater, so they do all they can before it’s too late. (And they all live to be grey and old, so it must have worked.)

Regulus

1. How much he looks up to Sirius

RESULT: Sirius bursts into tears and pulls Regulus into his arms. They hold each other and whisper in each other’s ears with their eyes closed as they sway until finally Sirius pulls away and cups Regulus’ face in his hands, smiling through the tears and kissing his forehead hard before whispering, “I love you.” Regulus smiles and returns the sentiment. The two are inseparable afterwards. They hold hands a lot, their fingers woven together during classes, and so it’s no surprise when less than a week after Sirius Black becomes Sirius Lupin, Regulus Black becomes Regulus Lupin.

2. How he thought he was going to die when Sirius left him at Grimmauld Place

RESULT: Sirius tears up and pulls him close, cradling his crying baby brother against his chest as he whispers, “Come home with me. I’m sorry. Come home with me. I’ll never let them hurt you again. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

3. How much he genuinely adores Remus

RESULT: Remus gives Regulus his last name without hesitation. He takes on a motherly role towards Regulus, often holding his hand and kissing his forehead. Regulus takes to occasionally calling him “Mum”, which Remus doesn’t mind in the slightest. When Regulus becomes an Animagus, his cat will sit on Remus’ lap for hours, letting him brush his fingers through his fur without pause as he sleeps. Regulus introduces Remus to strangers not as his brother-in-law, but simply as his brother, and Remus loves him. (And Sirius adores how close his brother and husband are. He’s not sure what he’d do if they didn’t love each other.)

4. The existence of Amir and Regulus’ shame for loving him

RESULT: The Marauders visit Amir (a Muggle librarian) with Regulus to assess whether he’s a good person (he is). They create an organization at Hogwarts that helps Muggleborn and half-blood kids, as well as anyone else who wishes to join, with Muggle-magic relationships. They, but especially Lily and Regulus, work hard to better Muggle-magic relations long after graduating Hogwarts.

5. Being born a girl and being a boy but also just a person (he/they)

RESULT: They take care with his pronouns. Sirius screams at their parents (and willing takes the Cruciatus Curse) any time they call Regulus “Regina” or their “daughter” or “she” or “her”. Similarly, James is fiercely protective of him at school, helping him stand up for himself when people get it wrong. And Remus, sweet sweet Remus, helps him dress in whichever way makes him most comfortable and brushes his hair while humming lullabies.

6. Thinking Sirius looks beautiful in a skirt

RESULT: Sirius starts crying, but they’re happy tears. And he smiles for days afterwards. So any time Sirius wears a skirt, Regulus goes out of his way to tell him how beautiful he looks. (Both brothers know how much the other struggles with the whole concept of loving yourself, but Regulus knows that Sirius often struggles with it more than he does.)

7. Being happiest when he’s hanging out with the Marauders and James throws an arm around his shoulders

RESULT: Regulus grows to be incredibly close to James. While at first he worries about intruding on James and Sirius’ friendship or James’ hospitality when he comes to live with them, his worries are soon forgotten when James starts treating him like another brother. James has a casual affection with him that Regulus loves, like when he’ll throw an arm around his shoulders or take his hand or kiss his cheek. After growing up in such an abusive family, physical affection is everything to Regulus (and Sirius, though he never says it).

8. How much he likes Severus and holding his hand and just simply being his friend

RESULT: Severus holds his hand like all the time. They’re each other’s best friend, and they aren’t ashamed to admit it. They even go to some of the school dances together, sitting criss-cross on the floor in the corner and playing Muggle hand games that Lily and Remus taught them.

9. How much he admires Sirius just for being who he is without shame

RESULT: Sirius tries to help him out of his shell. They go out shopping together and Sirius encourages him to buy whatever he wants. James buys him skirts for Christmas, Remus does his hair up when he wants it, Peter paints his nails, Lily gives him her approving nod, and Severus smiles and tells him he looks beautiful. (And in private, Sirius lets Regulus in on the little secret that he’s never been unashamed. He’s just better at hiding it.)

10. How much he wants to be like Lily, a boy who nobody questions is a boy

RESULT: Lily is extra helpful in helping him assert himself. He teaches Regulus some techniques he knows to look more masculine, and they talk about their dysphoria together. And Lily tells Severus, Sirius, and Remus that Regulus struggling, so they’re sure to call him handsome every day. And James, of course, is as sweet as ever, kissing his cheek and referring to him as “your highness” and “your majesty”. (James calls Severus “my prince” as a joke because of the whole Half-Blood Prince thing, and it makes Severus blush and cover his face with his hands every time.)

[blazedgraysons]

You're No Good - Ch. 2

C.J. Bennett is an overly ambitious student who dreams of shadowing her favorite author, Eli Jennings. The only thing standing in her way: Grayson Dolan.

warnings: this is a rough draft of a series i never finished. i'm posting the finished chapters before leaving this account. 🤍

part 1

If American Lit 1102 was C.J.’s personal hell, her job could at least be considered her own reprieve.

Sunnyside Vintage is an old shop off of Sunset, having been open for the last 30 years. It wasn’t the nicest of thrift stores — the clothes always have a weird mothball smell and everything is old - and not in the trendy way.  C.J. loves it. The windows are huge, letting California sunlight wash the stucco walls gold, and the mannequins are always dressed straight out of the 70’s. The pay isn’t always great, but C.J. is allowed to take whatever she wants more than makes up for it in her eyes.

“I just don’t understand. I mean, Stevens has praised me this entire semester. She even told me personally he’s never had a student write as well as me nor pick up on the work as fast as I have. Wouldn’t that be qualities you’d want in an intern, Bea? Even Grayson Dolan would’ve been a better pick.” C.J. turns to her boss, angrily folding flared jeans.

Another reason C.J. loves Sunnyside —  her boss, Beatrice “Bea” Walker. Once a glitzy soap star of the ’50’s, she retired with her husband and opened Sunnyside in the late 80’s. Despite being in her late-70s, she still holds on to the same glamour and charm that made her a household name a century prior.

“Maybe there was another reason. It could be something other then your application.” She croaks, lifting a pumpkin to place next to a costumed mannequin. As halloween rapidly approaches, the store was starting to transform to fit the fall season — hoping to draw in customers to purchase unique costumes for the holiday.

Before she can move to help Bea, the doors chime, signaling an entrance. Walking through with seemingly-glowing skin and a symphonic smile was Alexi, C.J.’s best friend and roommate. It’s hard to miss Alexi whenever she walks into a room — from her bleached-blue hair to eclectic style, she’s never been afraid to follow her own path, something C.J. has always admired. She walks straight to C.J., wrapping her in a loving embrace

“Are you okay? James told me what happened.” Alexi leaves an arm around her, and while C.J. knows it’s supposed to be comforting; all she can think about is how much she wants Alexi to leave. It’s one thing to rant to her elderly boss, someone who would love her in spite of her shortcomings and faults. But to know her own friend group has already heard about her misfortune, sending over someone to comfort and soothe, it was all just a little too pitiful for her to handle.

“Theta’s are throwing a party tonight. It’ll be the perfect pick-me-up, and you can forget all about Evans Jensen-“

“Eli Jennings” C.J. corrects.

“Whoever” Alexi rolls her eyes at the interruption, “is missing out on your incredible talent because of an idiotic professor’s incompetence. Everyone’s going and it won’t be the same without you, C.”

“As much as I would love that, Lex, I really just want to be alone tonight. Shitty beer, cheap Indian food, a sad movie so I don’t have to think about how these past four years have been a waste.”

“Not a waste, first of all. Look, I know that you’ve had this whole plan for your life since you popped out the womb, but shit happens, things change. This isn’t a failure, just think of it as a temporary setback. Plus, when life gives you lemons, you…” She trails off, waiting for C.J. to finish.

“Make lemonade?” She sighs.

“Use it to chase tequila.” Alexi giggles.

“I would go, but I have to close. Right, Bea?"

"Don't use me as an excuse. You should go, maybe find a boy to take home." Alexi makes a face at Beatrice's statement and C.J.'s face heats up.

“You’re going - no more buts. Wear something cute. Something that maybe doesn’t make if look like you were alive for Vietnam.” Alexi’s already leaving, kissing Beatrice lightly on the cheek on her way out.

This was how C.J. found herself standing outside the Theta Lambda  frat house, October air chilling her through her jacket. She shifts her weight between her feet, surveying the small group around her. Alexi talks animatedly on the phone, asking for whoever to meet them out front.

A random person bumps into her, forcing her to spill the contents of her purse onto the dewey grass. C.J. groans, bending down to pick everything up while mentally thinking to herself all of the other things she could be doing right now.

A pair of dirty air forces steps in front of C.J. and she slowly looks up at the girl standing in front of her. She’s pretty, stunning actually. C.J. recognizes her immediately. Channing Williams - social chair of Rho Xi sorority and the key to all the best parties on campus. Dressed in a black romper and red velvet jacket, she’s everything C.J. isn’t and a quiet twinge of jealousy plucks her heart. ‘I bet she’s never lost out on an internship.’ she thinks bitterly.

“Sorry, do you know anyone?”  Channing asks, voice soft and sweet with a clipboard in hand. C.J. looks at Alexi, waiting to hear her answer.

“Not really? I mean we know people, but we aren’t going to be on your clipboard or anything so if you could just let us slide through, I’m sure there’s someone here who could like vouch for us or something?” C.J. wants to slap her — not only did she drag her out in below-freezing weather, but she couldn’t even guarantee them a way inside.

“Well this is a greek-only party so unless you know anyone….” Channing trails off, not openly wanting to kick them out in front of so many people.

“That means no GDI’s.” C.J. didn’t even notice the miniature-sized freshman standing besides Channing. She clearly looks annoyed at the intrusion, keeping her from inside where everyone else is to deal with their little group. C.J. briefly wonders if the upturned stare is a requirement for Rho Xi or if that’s was just especially reserved for her.

“Geed’s?” Alexi repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Goddamn independents. Y’know, not greek-affiliated.” At this point, C.J. is ready to call the whole night and retire in her bed when she see’s someone appear in between Channing.

“They’re cool, Chan. They’re with me.” Micayla Zhao enters, covered in glitter, sweat and what C.J. is almost sure to be a line of salt from a body shot. C.J. has always considered Micayla the only cool Rho Xi, having had multiple classes with her over the years. Micayla fit right in with their group: smart, beautiful and a wicked sense of humor.

Channing nods, seeming bored and just wanting to get back inside with everyone else. She does a quick finger tap with Micayla (sacred Rho Xi bullshit is what Alexi always calls it) and moving along the line.

“Are your sisters always that charming?” Micayla rolls her eyes, grabbing C.J. to move them through the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire is set up in the middle with a canopy near by for the designated drinking spot. She watches as Micayla confidently moves through the crowd, stopping from time to time to say hey to friends and classmates on the way.

“Most of the time. Look, they’re just possessive over tradition and the Rho-Theta party has always been major exclusive, Channing’s been fighting to make it open to outsiders.” Micayla yells over the thumping bass.

“Yeah, I’m sure they love all the GDI’s.”  C.J. exaggerates her voice, pinching her nose to capture the nasally, valley accent Channing is almost famous for. Micayla stops, and had C.J. not been paying attention, she would’ve ran into her.

“Dude, you’re kind of being a bitch right now. Look, I get your bummed about your internship, but Channing wouldn't have let you in if she didn't want to. Would you rather be getting drunk, in your apartment alone?”

“Yeah, actually.” Micayla stares at C.J. for a second, looking like she’s about to bitch her out. As if Alexi can sense the fight forming, she grabs Micayla by the arm.

“Let’s go get a drink, you look like you need a drink in you.” They both walk towards the house, Alexi mouthing ‘Be Nice’ over her shoulder before disappearing completely. C.J. exhales, counting to 3 in her head before walking over to where drinks are set up.She fills up her solo cup, watching as the fizzy liquid moves closer and closer to the top.  Before she can take a sip, someone bumps into her spilling half the drink over the side.

“Hey, watch it!” A thick Jersey accent exclaims, and C.J. groans, wondering if this night could get any worse.

“Bennett?”

Grayson appears in front of her, denim jacket over a black t-shirt and black jeans. She takes note of the dark spot growing on the front of his shirt, from where she spilt her drink.

“What’re you doing here?”

She simply shrugs, refilling the missing contents of her cup.“I didn’t know parties were your scene. I always imagined in your free time you’re in like a dark room, crying alone to Sylvia Plath novels.”

“Nice to know you think of me out of class, Grayson” C.J. takes a sip of her beer. She moves to walk away, hoping he would take it as an end of conversation.

"How'd you get in? Isn't this like Rho's only?" He asks, following her to the edge of the bonfire. She looks at him, watching as the light frames the features of his face.

"Couldn't I say the same about you? You're not a Theta." He just stares at her intensely until she relents, "Micayla Zhao got me in. Y'know her?"

"We had history together sophomore year. She helped me cheat on the midterms."

C.J. laughs shortly. "Sounds like her."

Grayson opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off.

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Grayson, don’t you have someone else to bother? Someone who, y’know, actually likes you?” If that comment bothered him, he didn’t show it, continuing talking to her as if they haven’t pissed each other off continuously for the past four years.

“What do you think about Michael Eichler getting the internship spot?”  He asks. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t get the spot, now she has to sit and rub salt in the wound with her worst enemy.

“What’s there to think about? He got it, I didn’t. Fucking sucks.” He laughs, holding up his own drink.

“Cheers to that.” They both clink cups, and C.J. briefly wonders if the universe is still laughing at her.

"You know, that spot should've gone to one of us." He muses, watching the partygoers continue to stumble around them. He doesn't say anything after that, and she bites.

"Why should it have gone to one of us?"

"Well, think about it. We're both the top of our class, and I know for a fact Stevens has submitted your writing to collegiate magazines. There's no fucking way Michael fucking Eichler should've got that spot over one of us." C.J. pauses. She had known that Stevens appreciated her writing, but not enough to submit it anywhere. If what Grayson was saying was true, why hadn't she gotten the apprenticeship?

"Nothing I can really do about it now. He got the spot, I didn't. I guess I can become a second rate author now." She takes another sip, and Grayson snorts unattractively.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, Bennett. If Stevens like you, I'm sure there's another author dumb enough to want to publish your work too." She glares at him.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"As if you actually would've wanted to become friends with me."

"Oh yeah, that's what I do in between my Sylvia Plath crying sessions. Desperately wish that Grayson Dolan would become my best friend." Sarcasm drips off every word and he looks at her before taking another long sip of his drink.

“You know you’re actually kinda cool, Bennett. When you’re not trying to bite my head off in the middle of lecture”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such shitty takes, I wouldn’t want too.” Whatever retort Grayson was planning falls from his lips when Channing appears by his side, tucking herself underneath his arm.

"Hey, Gray. I got you another drink." Two Coronas hang from her manicured hand, and he whispers inaudibly to her, giggling between the two of them. C.J. begins to feel awkward, and coughs uncomfortably.

“Oh, you’re the GDI from earlier,” Channing looks up at her half-lidded, dark eyelashes framing red-tinged brown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Channing shifts her weight, biting her lip and feeling like an intruder. "I didn't know you two knew each other?" C.J. supplies, feeling desperate for conversation

"Gray and I had math together freshman year, "They both stare at each other awkwardly, silent tension as they wait for the other to speak.

“So, I’m gonna go." She speaks.

“No, you don’t have to." Channing is already turned back to Grayson, looking like she wouldn't mind C.J.'s exit.

“No it’s fine” Neither Grayson nor Channing seem to protest anymore, and C.J. turns back to see her friends looking at her, both amused and curious at her interaction with the duo. She begins to walk towards them, feet and heart sinking with every step, not feeling any better about her current predicament.

“Hey Bennett,” She turns around to face Grayson. “Think about what I said. About the internship stuff” She just nods, and leaves the pair. The moment she reaches her initial group, Alexi pulls her towards them.

“You and Dolan were just talking and it didn't end in a screaming match. That’s new. What did he want?”

“Nothing. Just typical Grayson Dolan bullshit."Alexi looks like she doesn't believe her, and frankly C.J. doesn't believe herself. She thinks back to what Grayson said, about how they were the only real competition for the apprenticeship. Whatever he meant by that could be handled tomorrow.

"C’mon. Didn’t  you say something earlier today about tequila shots?” She asks

“Atta, girl. That’s what I’m talking about.” She lets Alexi drag her away, sparing one last look at Grayson before entering the fraternity house.

[lillywillow]

Paper Faces on Parade

Summary: A royal masquerade is being held with the purpose of finding you a husband, however, your heart is already being held by one man

 Word Count: 1457

 Square Filled: Royal AU

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: An assassination attempt

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 From a young age, you were trained to take over the throne from your mother. You were taught everything from politics, to dancing, to sword fighting. Your mother wanted you to be fully prepared for anything a queen would be expected. When you came of age, she had been pushing you to find a husband, which was a royal requirement. Every potential suitor your mother set up ended the same way, a polite kiss on the hand and a broken promise to meet again. There was only one man you had in mind for your royal consort; your best friend and confidant; James Buchannan “Bucky” Barnes.

 Ever since you were children, the pair of you had been close. Bucky had trained to be in the knights and worked his way up from page to sergeant. He had taught you to wield a sword and ride a horse. Whenever you had dance lessons, you requested him as your partner. Every chance either of you had, you used it to be with each other. After he had lost his arm in the war, you spent every second you could by his side and went as far as to resource a mechanical one for him so he could resume his position.

 When your mother had announced that she was holding a royal ball with the sole purpose of you choosing a husband, there was no doubt in your mind who would be your choice by the end of the night.

The night of the ball had finally arrived, the night you had been partly dreading. It wasn’t that you hated these kinds of events per say, it was just that they were full of the same tedious characters you forced to mingle with. There were the clout chasers who were more interested in being seen with you than anything you actually had to say. Then there were the old blowhards who believed you should be seen, not heard and be grateful whatever man was chosen for you. In those cases you would oh so politely remind them that’s not the way your mother did it and you wouldn’t stand for it either.

 One of the things you did enjoy about these formal gatherings is seeing everyone in their finery. Fabrics shimmered and flashed and jewellery sparkled in the light. There was a certain magic about it, especially tonight with everyone wearing masks. Despite the fact their faces were hidden, it was easy to spot who was whom.

 Surrounded by a group of women was the inventor from the noble house of Stark. He was dressed in a metallic costume of gold and red, possibly one of his own creations.

 Then there was Countess Natasha Romanoff. Her dress was obsidian save for the silver stitching which was woven throughout the fabric like spider-webs. In her hand was a plain black mask on a stick which had the symbol of a red hourglass.

 You spotted one of the Asgardian princes in an emerald and gold costume with a feathered raven mask. He was speaking to Lady Wanda Maximoff. Her scarlet gown billowed around her like smoke, a lace butterfly mask daintily perched upon her face.

 You could see the Wakandan king in a traditionally carved African mask in the shape of a panther. He was wearing all black although there was something unusual about the fabric in the way it shimmered purple under the light.

 Throughout the night, you danced with many eligible bachelors. Some were sweet and genuine, others you found utterly droll but the one person you wanted to dance with eluded you.

 Eventually, you managed to sneak away to the veranda to steal a few minutes alone to yourself. You were enjoying the cool night air when you heard a voice behind you.

 “I thought I might find you here, princess.”

 Smiling, you turned around to face the person you had been longing to see all night. Bucky was clothed in all white with silver trimming, complete with a white wolf mask. You thought he looked rather dashing.

 “It was starting to get quite stuffy in there...”

 “Indeed,” he said, joining you and placing his hands on the veranda railing, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. “Have you danced with many tonight?”

 “Too many to count... none of them have reached my standards.”

 “You must have pretty high standards...”

 “That I do... in fact, I have already made my choice in who I want to make my consort.”

 “Is that so?”

 “It is... you may already know him. He’s tall, handsome, has beautiful blue eyes, he’s in the knights...”

 “I see... well I wish you and Steve a long and happy life together.” You playfully nudged him.

 “I think we both know who I’m referring to...”

 “I think I do too... but I’m afraid to let myself hope...” When Bucky heard you were supposed to be choosing the man you were going to marry, it broke his heart.

 “Then how about a dance?”

 “Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

 “Do you want to dance with me or not?”

 “Yes, your highness,” his voice had a playful lilt to it. He offered his arm to you and escorted you to the ballroom floor as the music began.

 As you glided across the floor with Bucky, it felt like you were the only two people in the room amidst the swirling colours and glittering lights. There was no denying it. You were totally and hopelessly in love with each other. When the song ended, your lips moved closer to his but a voice interrupted you.

 “May I have this next dance, princess?” You turned to see a stranger fully clad in black with red tentacles embellished on the shirt and a mask in the form of a red skull. There was something about this man that sent chills down your spine, however, it was your duty to dance with every gentleman who asked. You knew almost everyone at this party but you couldn’t place him. He was clearly skilled at the waltz but his grip was tight and hurting you. Bucky watched his every move and stayed close by just in case.

 “I have been very anxious to meet you princess...”

 It all happened so fast. The stranger pulled a knife concealed in his belt and brought it down towards your heart. Bucky quickly ran over, managing to push you away and put himself between you and the assailant. The knife let out a sickening clink as it got stuck in the panels of Bucky’s arm. All you could do was stand there in shock, the palace guards rushing over to apprehend the attacker. The man tried to get away and in the scuffle, his mask clattered to the ground revealing his identity. It was Johan Schmitt, an enemy to the royal family and leader to a group of rebels. He screamed profanities and antiroyalist speech as he was dragged away to the dungeons to be dealt with later.

 “Are you alright, princess? Did he harm you at all?” a nearby servant asked. You shakily showed your bruised wrist and they ushered you to a doctor. You turned back to see Steve helping Bucky remove the knife from his shoulder.

 From that point on, the party was well and truly over.

...

 The following day, the palace was abuzz with gossip about the events that unfolded at the ball. There was only one thing on your mind. You went to your mother to let her know your decision.

 “Mother, I have made my choice... I want Sir James Buchannan Barnes as my consort.”

 “Are you sure you don’t have false feelings because he saved your life last night?”

 “No, Mother. I have been in love with Sir James since I was a teenager. He has proven himself worthy to be my partner time and time again, not just to me but to the kingdom. He is a knight of high status and by our laws; he is eligible for my hand. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”

 “This is your final answer?”

 “Yes, Mother.”

 “Then it is decided. I will make the appropriate arrangements. You may go.” You couldn’t stop smiling, having to stop yourself from running through the halls to go tell Bucky the good news.

 In the months that followed, you and Bucky were finally married. You finally got the man of your dreams and Bucky got the princess of his.

[hawkbucks]

LISTEN if you do the language barrier muses from that royal au prompt thingy for buckytony (tony as muse b and bucky as a or whatever you prefer) i will love you FOREVER (i already do but let's pretend that the offer is still somewhat fair)

Thank you for requesting, and I hope this is what you wanted ;; I don’t think I followed the prompt exactly aljadkad ;; 

James hasn’t attended a single of his language lessons ever since they started a couple of weeks ago. Oh, his tutor has chased him plenty, but he’s always found a way to slink around them. It’s petty, the sort of behavior unbecoming of the Crown Prince (and it’s rather embarrassing and childish, so says his dear sister Rebecca), but James can’t find it in himself to care. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his feelings before they decided to marry him off to some prince from the South. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his opinion on the matter. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care that he’s a person--their son--and not some pawn in their game of political chess. 

They didn’t care about him, so he’s not about to care about this little scheme of theirs. If petty is how he’s feeling, then petty is what everyone is going to get. He’s not above that.

(Pity briefly surges through his chest. Is it fair of him to punish someone who’s barely an accomplice in this crime? It is a betrothal. He’s willing to bet that the other prince had as much say in this as he had--which is, to say, none at all.)

He slouches over in his chair, sighing. 

“James,” his mother, Queen Winnifred, calls out. She grips his wrist as he tries to slip past. “Sir McKenzie has been telling me that you haven’t been attending your lessons. How can you expect to communicate with Prince Anthony? He arrives in a couple of days.” 

“I would prefer to not communicate with him,” James answers coolly. “In fact, I would prefer that we not go through this marriage at all.” 

She squeezes his wrist in warning. “I will not have you bring shame to this family because you want to shirk your duties.”

James opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it at the blaze that starts up in his mother’s eyes, making it more than clear that she’s not in the mood for James’ excuse-making and back-talking. 

“The Starks are sending their only son thousands of miles across the heartland because they need this alliance. They can’t even attend their own son’s wedding because Maria easily takes ill.” James tries to look away. She tugs, forcing him to look back. “This is going to be a trying time for him. The least you could do is provide him some familiarity.” 

Hot shame courses through James’ body, but he made up his mind the second you’re betrothed left his father’s lips. He removes his hand from his mother’s grip and summons every last drop of his courage. “Perhaps you all should have thought about that before arranging this entire affair.” 

An uneasy, thick silence falls between them. His mother looks stunned. He can tell that she’s wondering what happened to the compassionate boy that she helped raise.

His throat clicks as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Mechanically, he turns on his heel and walks away, his mother’s gaze burning holes into his back. 

His sister says nothing to him as she drags him to every single one of his lessons. Two days is barely enough time for him to learn how to introduce himself, much less become conversational. However, that doesn’t stop his tutor from trying. 

They sit him down in a less than comfortable chair at a years-old desk stained by ink and rings of that coffee drink his mother is so fond of. Scrolls are unraveled in front of him, one half filled with words and phrases that he can read, the other half dominated by characters he finds foreign. 

They say he has to stay. 

They never say he has to pay attention. 

Prince Anthony arrives as the short-lived sun starts to set, staining the gate in front of the castle in pinks and oranges. 

James plasters on a fake smile--he might not be thrilled about this entire arrangement, but he supposes that he could at least let the Prince feel like he’s welcome. Well, he thinks as he presses a quick kiss to the back of Prince Anthony’s hand, at least he’s pretty. He links both of their arms together as he leads the Prince into the courtyard. 

Prince Anthony looks at him and says something in his own tongue, delicate and soft, a contrast against the rough and warm tones of James’ own language. 

James’ smile falters, and he shakes his head, making a looping motion with one of his fingers near his ear. I can’t understand you.

Prince Anthony’s brows furrow, a frown forming on his face. He says something over his shoulder to someone, adding something extra in the beginning--presumably a request to translate--before repeating what he said to James. 

That someone that Prince Anthony was talking to hurries over. They’re a portly man, but the broadness of their shoulders betrays any hidden underlaying muscle. “His Highness would like to know if he is to sleep with you in your quarters tonight,” they translate, “or if he is to wait until after the wedding.” 

“Pardon?” James’ mouth goes dry. He isn’t sure if Prince Anthony means sleep or if he means… sleep. 

Prince Anthony says something, cheeks slightly flushed, probably after taking in the half confused, half shocked look on James’ face. 

The man nods. “His Highness meant it to be purely the two of you sharing a bed. He apologizes if any of his wording made him seem crass.”

“Oh.” James blinks. “After the wedding.” 

The man relays that to Prince Anthony, who simply hums thoughtfully. 

James barely gets more than a glimpse of Prince Anthony as he’s caught in the hustle and bustle of everyone in the castle moving around to get ready for the wedding. He’s forced into coat after coat, the seamstresses hemming and hawing and sometimes accidentally pricking him with their needles. He wonders why they couldn’t have just done this before. 

From what he sees, Prince Anthony’s garments have the intricate, looping embroidery on them that’s indicative of the South. The sleeves are long, with two pieces of loose fabric acting as some sort of flaps that connect from his shoulders to his wrists. 

James’ father, King George, stops by to give him the sash that he wore when he married Winnifred. 

James doesn’t think he deserves it. 

They don’t kiss during the ceremony, thankfully. 

James’ simply feeds Prince Anthony the first bite of a freshly baked bread roll, while Prince Anthony spoons beef broth into James’ mouth. The priest--who James recognizes as the man Prince Anthony enlisted the translation services of when they first met--says a few words in both James’ and Prince Anthony’s tongues, and just like that, they’re married. 

Prince Anthony is the man that James is supposed to be spending the rest of his life with, whether either of them likes it or not. 

As his golden circlet is replaced by a silver crown, rubies glittering underneath the sunlight pouring in through the windows, Prince Anthony mutters something underneath his breath, eyes closing.

James doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but he recognizes the cadence of the Common Prayer. 

Prince Anthony tugs on the sleeve of James’ shirt and points at the cake sitting a foot away from them, decorated with apples and pears. Melted chocolate and caramel are drizzled across the top, criss-crossing over the other. “Is swit?” Prince Anthony asks. 

James tilts his head to the side. 

“Swit. Swit,” Prince Anthony repeats. “Sweet?” 

“Oh.” James’ eyebrows quirk up. He lifts himself out of the seat and reaches over, bringing the cake to their side. “Do you…” he points at the cake, then at Prince Anthony, then he mimes eating, a cupped hand underneath his mouth while the other pretends to be forking something in. 

Prince Anthony nods. 

James snaps his fingers, and a servant comes scurrying. 

The both of them are called forward to share a dance in front of the crowd. Queen Winnifred sends James a look that promises repercussions if he tries to weasel his way out of it. 

With a sigh, he gets out of his seat and offers his hand to Prince Anthony, who takes it with nervousness in his eyes. James supposes that Prince Anthony doesn’t need to understand his language to know when he’s to be no more than a performing monkey for a couple of minutes.

“Sorry,” Prince Anthony whispers when he accidentally steps on James’ toes.

At least he knows that.

Back in their quarters, it comes to James’ attention that Prince Anthony’s sleeping wear is rather unsuited for the kind of weather up in the North. Compared to James’ own heavy cotton garments, Prince Anthony’s breezy, light linens are pathetic. He sees the way Prince Anthony shivers and his mind immediately goes to how cold he must have been the past few days. The South is known for its warm climate, and the North… well, there’s a reason why James’ father is regarded as the Winter King. 

It’s going to be impossible for James to continue not learning Prince Anthony’s language if he keeps feeling sorry for him. Lord. 

“Cold?” he questions, mimicking Prince Anthony’s shiver.

Prince Anthony nods, looking remarkably shy about it all. 

James heads to the chest in his room that stores the fur blanket that he usually saves for the especially cold nights in the dead of winter when his breath is visible and the lake in their garden freezes over. He fishes it out and offers it to Prince Anthony, who takes it with a grateful smile. 

Prince Anthony tosses it on the bed and spreads it out. He places a hand on his chest. “Tony,” he says. “Say me ‘Tony’.” 

“Tony,” James repeats. The name rolls off of his tongue easily. 

Tony walks over and puts a hand on James’ chest. “James.” 

James nods weakly as he desperately tries to tamp down the flush rising up his neck. 

“James,” Tony says again, voice ringing like a bell. 

James wakes up to the feeling of someone’s head on his chest. When they fell asleep, he made sure to put as much space in between the two of them as possible (and it really wasn’t hard considering how large his bed is), but they must have gravitated towards each other anyhow. 

At least Tony has an excuse in the fact that he’s unused to Northern weather and unconsciously sought out warmth from any source. What’s James’ excuse? 

He isn’t sure what to do. He could try and move, but… he can’t find it in his heart to possibly wake Tony up.

Tony starts to move, and James lets out a sigh of relief, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

“Food?” Tony asks, tilting his head upwards to look at James. “Morning-food? Hungry, I want...” his face screws up in concentration. 

“Breakfast.” James fills in after a moment’s hesitation. 

“Breakfast!” Tony’s accent is off, but James can tell he’s doing his best. 

So, here’s the thing: James feels like an asshole. 

Tony’s trying to connect with him despite the language barrier, and that’s more than what James can say. 

He’s still miffed about the entire betrothal thing, but he doesn’t feel like his little act of rebellion is worth it. Tony’s still struggling with his language, while James hasn’t even made an effort to learn Tony’s. He should be the one fumbling over his words, trying to get Tony to like him. 

Plus, he’ll admit that Tony… has grown on him. It takes real courage to venture all the way across the heartland to get married to someone you don’t know because your kingdom is in desperate need for power. He wonders if Tony had many friends back in the South, if he thinks about them at night, if he had any pets. He uprooted his entire life coming up to the North, and James…

James can’t even fucking say hello to him. 

Tony places a plate in front of James, snapping him out of his thoughts. On the plate lies a single cinnamon roll, looking beautifully fluffy with its dark brown swirl in the middle, creamy frosting on top. “Made for you,” Tony chirps.

Yeah. James feels like a real asshole. 

James walks in on Tony in the library, face buried in a pillow as he sits on a lounge chair. He assumes that it’s just an extreme reaction to a book that Tony’s reading (although he was unaware that they had books in Tony’s language in the first place--perhaps he brought some from home?) before he realizes that Tony’s shoulders are shaking and all of his breaths sound suspiciously like sobs. 

“Oh, oh, hey,” James says as soothingly as possible, bending himself at the knee until he’s at the same height as Tony. What if Tony is feeling ill but he was hiding it? What if Tony got hurt? What if Tony simply isn’t having a good day? James honestly thinks the least he could do is check in on him. “Okay?” 

Tony removes his face from the pillow. His eyes are rimmed with red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks. His nose is flushed a light pink. “Book made me--” he hiccups-- “sad.” 

“The book made you… sad?” Ah. So, it was just a reaction to the book. Still, he can’t leave Tony like this, can he? “Hug?” 

Tony sniffles as a crease appears between his brows. “Hug?” he repeats sluggishly. 

James blinks. He’s not too sure how to explain what hug refers to. He’s confident that there’s a corresponding word in Tony’s language, but he doesn’t really know it now does he? He runs a couple mental calculations, minutely shrugs, then goes in for the hug. 

Tony inhales quickly, unsure of what to do, and James thinks that he must have botched this big time. 

Then, Tony is hugging him back, burying his face in the crook of James’ neck.

Warmth spreads throughout James’ chest. 

“Flowers,” James says as he gives Tony a small bouquet of hellebores. They just reminded him of Tony, and, no, he doesn’t know why. He does know that he’s grateful that they grow some in the royal gardens, though. “For you.” 

Tony perks up as he accepts James’ gift. “Flowers. Pretty,” he coos. He separates one from the rest and tucks it behind James’ right ear. “For you.” 

“You’re prettier,” James breathes out. He’s not sure if Tony’s able to understand that, but Tony’s smile grows wider.

Winnifred pulls James to the side, curtsying to Tony when he looks at her in confusion. “Anthony has been taking lessons with Sir McKenzie almost everyday while you’re out there fencing with Steven,” she quietly chides, eyes flickering over to Tony. “When are you going to do the same? It’s not fair for him to cater to you the entire time you both speak. There should be equal effort on both sides.”

“I know some words,” James replies. 

Winnifred raises an eyebrow.

James deflates. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think quickly.” 

Sir McKenzie gives him a knowing smirk.

James rolls his eyes.

Tony looks all around him, eyes wide in awe. His hands form cups, small mounds of snow forming in each hand over time. “Wow,” he mouths. “This is snow?” he questions aloud. He’s been getting better and better at the Northern tongue as the days pass, although his accent is still rather glaring. “Only read about in books. Never seen.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Tony nods enthusiastically. “Very like it!” then, he smiles sheepishly. “But very cold.” 

“Do you want a hug?” 

Tony bounds over to him and jumps into his arms.

James recites what he’s going to say over and over in the mirror.

He’s there when Tony starts waking up with a bowl full of steaming oatmeal flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, plus a plate of apple slices and a dish of honey for Tony to dip them in. “Good morning,” he says in Tony’s language. 

Tony catapults up into a sitting position, staring at James. His mouth starts moving at a mile a minute and the only thing James can understand is speaking and nice. Halfway through, Tony stops himself as if suddenly realizing that James… doesn’t really know what he’s saying. “Sorry. Very happy,” he explains, switching back to James’ language. 

Now, James could continue talking in his native tongue, or he could try to flex what he’s learned. The choice is obvious. “Okay. You are cute.” He feels his mouth turn cotton-y at the last word. Tony is indeed very cute, but to say it to him in his language makes it sound different--feel different. “I like you…” Goddamn it, he practiced for this. “...much?”

Tony claps his hands in delight. “I really like you,” he returns in James’ language and leans forward to kiss James on the cheek.

[lovelyirony]

made up fic title: icarus, icarus (you flew too high)

"There is a kind of tragic joke. You can’t really keep a man down -good but often otherwise- because history’s mechanics are built to keep him from climbing toward the top. Somehow, Icarus gets to be reborn as Iron Man.” -Wesley Morris

When Tony was young, he didn’t think that limitations really ever mattered to someone like him, and...he was right. They didn’t matter. 

The Starks were a family you never crossed because one overly-polite tone of disapproval from Maria Stark could send your social pedigree reeling. Just one scoff from Howard Stark sends your whole world plummeting. 

And Tony? 

Well...he learned both sides of the coin. There’s no telling what kind of damage he would do if he cared about others enough to. 

At least, that’s the picture he paints for all to see. The mediums he use are just fascinating. 

When Tony was little, he was the darling of American media. Whip-smart but in the “aw gee mister” Dennis the Menace nature that earned a ruffle of the hair, a disapproving-but-gentle-smile from his mother. 

Outside of the cameras, Tony was left alone. His mother would much rather dedicate her time to her socialite friends, trying to rejuvenate the feeling of youth that had fled so long ago, rushing in expectations of adulthood that she was loath to accept. 

His father wanted to focus on a man that was left on faded posters, advertising war bonds and a solution to a war that involved far more than anyone wanted to admit. Howard Stark much preferred to look through the world with amber-tinted glasses, and he didn’t much care if his son had a different tint. 

The thing about Tony as a child was this: he really was naive. Looking back on it, he should’ve seen his parents’ faults. 

But when you’re a kid, and when you watch TV shows and you read books for kids your age, all of the pictures and words depict parents as loving. 

So you think yours are too. 

Or, you think that maybe they’ll love you if you do the right thing. You don’t really know what the right thing is, so then you look towards one thing you should never look to: perfection. 

Maybe if you can get straight A’s, your mom will look at your report card and she’ll be proud. 

Maybe if you can perfect the robotics of one of the machines that your dad has been having trouble with, he’ll take an interest in what you have to say about the possibility of mirror technology for planes for the military. 

Neither of these work. 

So maybe if you look perfect. Maybe if you never have a hair out of place, maybe if you attain the everyone-wants-to-be-me status your parents will notice. 

And they won’t. 

They never do, and Tony? Well. 

Sometimes, people realize that it is not their fault that their parents are terrible people. Others don’t, and they internalize that. They think it’s their fault. 

Tony works hard. He studies everything, and he just wants someone to love him for himself. 

And then he goes to college. 

Thrown into a situation where there is no parent to impress but they’re still hoping that the heir of Stark Industries makes good decisions. 

And he does. 

He’s nice to everyone and any time any of the staff wants him to go for any publicity stunt, he does. He wears slacks and button-downs and drags himself out of bed and brings extra pens for giddy autographs and answers every single question comparing him to Howard with a glittering smile. 

Tony’s so fucking tired. He’s just...it’s all too much. 

He doesn’t do anything drastic, of course. No, too many eyes on him for that. Doesn’t want to become the next celebrity shut-in for a “delicate constitution” and “stress from work” or whatever bullshit his mom will sell to the papers to make sure that his legacy stays untainted from any malicious words. 

But he does sit outside at two in the morning. Doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or snowing or so bitterly cold that after about twenty minutes he doesn’t feel his fingers. 

There’s a person at the front desk who sees him every single time he goes outside. 

James Rhodes, who did not originally want the night-owl shift, but got guilt-tripped into it because Hope needed to help her mom at her house. 

So now, here he is. 

Staring at Tony Stark, who still wears the button-down shirts and slacks outside and doesn’t carry a fucking umbrella. 

Jesus, it’s fucking depressing. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be sad at the front desk for someone else’s sake. 

The next time, it’s a torrential downpour. Thundering and lightning comes crashing, and the windows shake with the noise. 

And there he goes. 

Except before he steps out, comes back soaked, James does the only thing he can think to do: 

"Tony Stark, you get your ass back in here,” he says. 

He knows he shouldn’t have said that. 

You say one thing to a rich white kid and you’re down the drain. 

Tony Stark just looks at him. 

“What?” 

“Get inside. You don’t need to go outside for anything.” 

“I didn’t know you noticed.” 

“You’re really the only person who comes here at two in the morning.” 

“I am?” 

“Well, besides people at parties on Friday nights.” 

“Oh.” 

“Why do you go outside?” 

Tony freezes. It’s not a question he wants to answer. 

“Why do you work so late?” 

“No one else wanted to.” 

“Oh. Why did you decide to work on-campus?” 

“Flexible hours and I don’t have to drive anywhere.” 

“That sounds nice. Are you really going to stop me from going outside?” 

There’s another clap of thunder, white flashing all across the room from the windows, the windows themselves shaking. The rain pounds harder. 

“I think if you go outside you’ll come back looking like a drowned rat, and you really don’t wanna look like that.” 

“And what do I want to look like?” Tony asks. 

“I don’t know,” Rhodey says. “But drowned-rat-look was so two years ago.” 

Tony cracks a grin at that. 

“Can’t argue with that flawless logic. I’ll see you later.” 

And he walks off, as casual as can be. 

Thunder still shakes the building. 

But James is a little bit more at peace. 

- 

And then. 

Of course there’s an “And then” portion. 

Howard and Maria Stark die. 

It was a car crash, an accident. James avoids seeing the papers that don’t seem to care how graphic the pictures are, they’ll show it. 

He doesn’t know how to approach Tony Stark about this predicament, but everyone else, it seems, is just dying to, so-

Oh god. Yeah. Bad timing. 

Tony Stark does not come down the stairs at two a.m. for a week. For more than half of that week he is back home. But on the last day, he is there. 

He looks tired. Which of course he looks tired. He’s had people shove cameras in his face and he probably had to go over wills and estate hearings or whatever it is he needed to do. 

“I’m not coming back,” he tells Jim. 

“For the year, or for a long time?” he asks, because that kind of thing is something he’d like to know. 

“Ever. They don’t want me to start running the company.” 

“Why not?” 

“They say I’m too young. But that’s not the real reason.” 

“Okay.” 

And James leaves it at that. Because he is very much so not looking for any drama, it’s already drama enough that Tony’s parents died and there are already conspiracy gossip magazines just running with it. 

Tony is CEO, or at least co-CEO. He graces the covers of Forbes and Vogue and any other magazine that has any sort of interest in him. 

Another “and then” moment: 

He goes missing. 

He said he was ready for more responsibility, according to an article from Forbes. 

(What? James can keep up with news.) 

Tony Stark was ready for more responsibility, to prove that he could do what everyone said he couldn’t, to prove that he could further a legacy he didn’t want in the first place. 

So there was the Jericho missile. The demonstration went fine, all things considered by the US military report. 

The problem was that the cars got hijacked and Tony Stark was presumed dead. 

Ah. 

Another American society family gone to history books, and James Rhodes knew one of them at least on a somewhat personal level. 

He wasn’t going to tell anyone. 

At least not until he needed to pay off a loan or something. He’s not even sure what people would do with the fact that Tony Stark was a night owl who liked spending time outdoors. 

Maybe it’s because James Rhodes is gearing up for the military (at least, he thinks?) or maybe it’s because when he can’t go to bed he spends his time watching conspiracy videos and he shouldn’t do that, especially with all of the misinformation out there. 

People don’t think that Tony disappearing was a coincidence. It makes sense. 

Months after his parents death, and he assumes the role of CEO a year earlier than anticipated? 

Obadiah Stane has been working at that company for Tony’s entire lifetime and then some. It had to sting knowing someone without the “proper” years of education and familiarity would take over and maybe ruin whatever it was you had planned. 

So James Rhodes is kind of Concerned. 

- 

“You’re doing what?” His mama says over the phone. 

“I’m not gonna join Air Force,” Jim says to his mother. 

She’s been trying to convince him not to for about a solid year now. The reason she gives him is that he’s a damned fool who would probably get sent home with a broken foot or something anyways. He rolls his eyes at this. 

(The real reason is that she doesn’t want to see an American flag draped across a coffin she shouldn’t have had to consider.) 

“So what made you change your mind?” Dad asks. 

“Career opportunity. I’m going to work at Stark Industries.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Research and Development, plus a little bit of testing. I’ve been talking with a couple of friends.” 

“Which friends?” 

“You don’t know them, Ma.” 

“Why not?” 

James lets out a frustrated breath. 

“Because they’re from college.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know them.” Mama scoffs, and he can hear her moving around the kitchen.

“You-I’m not gonna argue. You don’t know them, I do, and I’m going to see if I can get hired at Stark Industries or not. I’ll call you as soon as I get news.” 

- 

Stark Industries is hiring him as soon as he walks in for the department. With Tony gone, they need all the help they can get, even from someone with almost no experience. 

He learns. 

He learns a hell of a lot. 

He learns that Howard Stark was a fucking asshole who had no idea how anything worked, and everyone loves Tony because he’s fun and hardworking and he knows what the company needs. 

James hasn’t forgotten the message. 

They say I’m too young to be CEO. But that’s not the real reason. 

He doesn’t know what Tony means by that. 

Until Obadiah Stane starts talking. He’s always had a loose tongue, it’s part of why many SI employees can jump ahead of the curve on decisions and pick up loose ends. 

“The boy was always a jokester,” Obadiah says to his old colleagues, the ones who reek of cigar smoke and outrageously expensive alcohol. “Never wanted to play it seriously, and that’s how it was with the Jericho, you know? Just like his old man, Anthony was.” 

He gets a bad taste in his mouth. 

Tony was never someone to joke, at least not all the time. He had quips for the cameras, but he never once spoke out of turn. He was almost impossible to get a negative reaction out of, had never really had any press scandals that James knew of. No one spoke about anything if it had happened.

James decides to do something that is most definitely illegal, and will most likely make him homeless: 

He accesses files that he’s not supposed to. Files on Stane’s computer, files that no one else has access to besides a remote access somewhere in Afghanistan. 

Tony Stark. 

Sitting in a ripped up tank top, blood all over him. He’s looking to the camera with a sort of determination. 

Obadiah should be turning this into the FBI or CIA or whatever underground organization there is. 

But he isn’t. 

Which means that he probably paid for this to happen, and now there’s something to be done. 

-

“What are you doing in this office?” 

James’ head snaps up to see the PA of Tony, Pepper Potts. Said to have the fury of all the dragons in the world, impeccable fashion sense, and a competency that would scare off God. 

James is terrified. 

“Um. I kind of got evidence against Stane.” 

“You found the files too?” 

“Yeah? Wait, you know? Please tell me you’re not on his side.” 

“He wouldn’t ever be my choice of an ally,” Pepper says, wrinkling her nose. She whips out a flash drive, tapping some things into the computer before shutting it down. “No, you’ll be helping me get my old boss back. I refuse to quit, I hate job hunting.” 

James is pretty sure that this is not the only reason, but job-hunting does suck. 

There are voices coming down the hallway. Pepper freezes. 

“What should we do? I’m not getting fired, oh my god-” 

Obadiah walks into the hallway with the higher-up offices, and there’s Rhodes and Miss Potts discussing some sort of thing that the R&D department probably needs marketing help on. 

He doesn’t notice Pepper slip a USB into her purse, thinking it’s lipstick. 

Obadiah always jumps to conclusions far too quickly, Howard used to tell him that that was what was going to do him in. 

- 

The US military takes care of it. Or someone like it. 

Pepper knows someone named Phillip Coulson, which sounds honestly like a name that shouldn’t be the name of an American man. 

“We’ll get him back as soon as possible,” says Mr. Coulson, who has a bland smile that betrays nothing and makes James feel uneasy. 

- 

Tony comes back in one piece. He comes back with bonus material. 

Rhodes shouldn’t have thought that. But now he has, and that is that. 

Pepper Potts made him come onto the tarmac with her. 

Tony stills. 

“What the absolute hell are you doing here?” 

There’s no heat to the statement, can’t be when he’s as exhausted as he is. 

“Moral support,” Pepper says. “He also works for you, I thought that’s how you knew each other.” 

Tony gives Rhodes a hard look. 

“Sure.” 

They’ll have a discussion later. 

- 

He shuts down weapons-manufacturing. Rhodes can see Stane’s eyes glint with anger from where he’s standing. 

“We’re all just tired,” he says, chortling as if Tony coming back after being captured for three months is all one gigantic joke that’s just waiting for the punchline. 

“No,” Tony says. 

For the first time in his life, he says no for himself. 

“I’m not tired,” he states plainly. “Well, I’m tired of sand in my hair.” 

Cue uneasy laughs. 

Tony continues on. “I have been complacent for too long. And I want my legacy to not be a continuation of my father’s, but a better legacy. Which is why, effective immediately, weapons manufacturing is being shut down.” 

Flash go the cameras, and Rhodes doesn’t know how he’s swung it, but he’s helping stuff Tony into a car, and that can’t be- 

It’s a burger. 

“You want fries or something?” Tony asks. “You can have fries. I don’t really like the fries they serve, not my deal.” 

Rhodey eats a cold fry that honestly sucks, but it’s better than no food at all. 

“You’re back and you’re already causing a Mount-Everest-level of work,” Pepper says. “I’ve missed that.” 

“What, they’ve been boring you to death?” 

“Nearly,” she says. “Let’s get you home.” 

James is not sure what to do in this situation. Because he probably shouldn’t be going to his technically-boss’s-place-of-residence, but he’s kind of gotten caught up in the drama of this whole situation, and he’s not sure if he remembered to get his apartment key from his office. 

Tony Stark keeps looking at him. 

“Why did you...? I thought you were going to fight for the Air Force or whatever. I didn’t think you wanted a job with us.” 

“I didn’t,” he says simply. “But you said that they didn’t want you to be CEO, and it wasn’t just because you were on the young side. I figured that you needed someone to at least find out.” 

“Did you think I was dead?” 

“I was about seventy-five percent sure you weren’t,” James says. 

“And why is that? Because I’m an inventor?” 

“No. It’s because you would go out in freezing temperatures for an hour in nothing but slacks and a white button-down in college, which was weird. What were you doing, anyways?” 

“Not important,” Tony says. “Pepper, can you order more food? I’ve dearly missed American cuisine and all the sodium.” 

“You need to go to a hospital.” 

“Yeah, not happening.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’ll...” Tony sends a look to James. 

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” he says quietly. 

“Do you have a phone I can use for a taxi ride?” James asks. 

“You can take one of my cars.” 

James has seen the various articles on Tony Stark’s ever-growing car collection. All of them are worth more than his entire life, and he is petrified of them. 

“I can call a taxi.” 

“What, scared you’ll screw up the paint job?” 

“Scared I’ll crash.” 

Tony laughs, and then winces. It seems that something’s weighing on him. 

“That’s the least of my worries. I’ll set you up with a Ferrari, then.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” 

“It should! It’s my least favorite.” 

“And you still have one anyways?” 

"They tend to be for appearances only, although occasionally they can get the job done. I wouldn’t take one for a road trip.” 

- 

So James is driving a Ferrari and trying not to die, even though his boss told him he wouldn’t. 

He makes it home and leans against the wall of his apartment. 

His neighbor had stared at him. 

“You get a pay bonus or something?” 

“Or something, Clint. Or something.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it. No questions asked.” 

- 

Returning to work is...an ordeal. 

“You bought a Ferrari?” Wesley asks, looking over the car. “How? I thought you hated them!” 

“I do, and that doesn’t change anything,” James says. “Now hands off the car unless you want Tony Stark himself to smite you down.” 

“He wouldn’t smite me down,” they scoff. “At the most, he’ll give me a strong talking-to that in no way rivals my mother’s reactions to anything I do.” 

James grins, laughing. 

“I’d hate to meet your mother.” 

“Believe me, so did I.” 

The conversation is cut short by Pepper entering the offices. 

“Rhodes, with me please?” 

“Of course,” he responds. 

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the click of Pepper’s heels and the steady thump of Rhodes’ work boots. 

“So. What’s going on, Ms. Potts?” 

“I need you to sign some NDAs.” 

“For?” 

“...you’ll find out.” 

- 

James is led to Tony’s personal work workshop, which is something incredibly fun to say twice as fast as you normally would. 

There is also something protruding from his chest, and Rhodes just stares. 

“So, is this like. A new thing?” 

“Relatively,” Tony says dryly. “I didn’t have it in college, safe to assume.” 

“I would’ve felt a bit like an idiot if you had had it and I failed to notice.” 

“Well, now you know. Pep, the paperwork?” 

Rhodes is slipped quite the stack of sheets, and is handed a pen that probably costs more than his pair of shoes. 

“So, what’s the reason for this?” 

"Well, you’re getting an NDA for this thing, and for a couple of other things,” Tony starts out. “I’m going to be letting you in on a secret that no one can find out about. And if they do find out, you are not going to like what I do to you.” 

“Noted.” 

“Meet me for dinner at seven,” Tony says. “Bring the car back, won’t you?” 

“Gladly, so long as you don’t call me Jamie.” 

“Not a nickname kinda guy?” 

“Not that nickname kinda guy,” he says with a wince. 

Tony smiles. 

“And Rhodey?” 

“I suppose I can’t petition for Jim?” 

“I know far too many ‘Jims’ in my lifetime, darling.” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about this, any of this. He doesn’t think his life is in danger, or else Pepper might have a sharper smile on her face like when she’s about to tear apart someone she doesn’t like. 

His boots make a steady rhythm on the floor as he exits, and he wonders if he should fill up the gas tank all the way as a courtesy. (When a man is richer than God, maybe, you ask a lot of questions.) 

-

James Rhodes, for once in his life, does not know what to wear. 

Usually, the nicest outfit he ever wore was a suit to his grandparents’ funerals, and then for church or any other event it was a polo shirt or a button-down and black pants with reasonably nice loafers. 

Tony Stark probably has on a suit that is more than a very nice, reasonably priced used car. Which is quite a lot, in Rhodey’s opinion. 

Oh god. He’s started thinking about himself with the nickname. 

He settles on a dark green button-down with no tie, and he drives the Ferrari about five miles under the speed limit and causes quite a bit of trouble for traffic. People honk. Someone in a lifted truck calls him a name that was really quite creative and unexpected. 

He arrives in one piece, which is a great deal. 

Tony is lounging in jeans and an old t-shirt, and Rhodey feels a bit guilty about his own outfit choice. 

“Sorry for the...shirt. Here are your keys.” 

“What’s wrong with your shirt? Looks great from where I’m laying,” Tony says, a hint of a grin on his face. 

“You want some pizza?” 

He relaxes slightly. 

Tony Stark is a very guarded man. His shoulders are tense even though he’s reclining as if he’s relaxing, and he’s looking at Rhodey with a look of curiosity. 

“So, why am I here?” Rhodey asks. “Besides pizza and returning car keys.” 

“We can get to that soon. For now, pizza. And talk with Pepper.” 

Pepper comes in, holding a wine bottle and balancing three wine glasses expertly in the other hand. 

She has to be a magician or a goddess or something. There’s no way someone can be that grateful. She also looks like a model in simple red shorts and an over-sized t-shirt advertising some old running event. 

“I see you forgot to tell him the dress code,” Pepper says. “You want a different shirt, Rhodes? It’ll be easier for later.” 

“If I could,” he says, slowly. “What’s it for?”

“Green not your color?” Tony asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, but button-downs aren’t my favorite.” 

He eats a piece of pizza and makes small-talk about pizza toppings. Tony loves pepperoni and absolutely hates Canadian bacon. 

“It is ham, call it what it is, and then never put it on pizza again,” he whines. 

Rhodey smiles. 

“I still stand by green bell peppers being the worst.” 

“Have you ever had good pizza?” Tony asks. “I don’t think you have, otherwise you wouldn’t be saying those things.” 

Pepper chucks a t-shirt at Rhodey. 

“It might fit a bit tight, but it should be fine.” 

“What exactly is this for?” 

Tony turns away as Rhodey changes into the shirt. He looks again when it’s all on, and Rhodey’s shifting a bit. It is a bit tight, but not bad. 

Tony is staring. 

Rhodey does not notice this, because sometimes Rhodey is very bad at observations. 

“Come with me,” Tony says. “I’m about to show you what will be, I think, the world-changing thing.” 

“A thing?” 

“A thing,” Tony says with a smile. “My legacy.” 

Inside is a treasure trove of toys and machines and Rhodey can see Dum-E, the robot that had been submitted to a robotics contest at MIT. He didn’t know he was still around. 

And then, the opus magnum of it all: 

(At least, Rhodey thinks.) 

“This is a flyable suit of armor,” Tony says. “And I need to make an offer to you.” 

Rhodey turns, looks at him. 

Tony breathes in, breathes out. 

“My father’s legacy was building weapons for the war, helping out wherever he could. He’s been hailed as a hero for years, and I was expected to fill his shoes. And I tried, I really did.” His face hardens as he looks down at the blue light emanating from his chest. 

“My attempt at becoming my father was perhaps the worst thing I’ve ever done, because it resulted in innocent lives being lost and my own ignorance to become someone I should never have been in the first place. This? This is the answer to it all.” 

“And what are you hoping to get out of me?” Rhodey asks. 

“Flying lessons.” 

“Flying lessons,” Rhodey deadpans. “You just built a knight-in-armor with jets or whatever, and you want me to give you flying lessons.” 

“Well, it’d be helpful,” Tony says. “You nearly went into the Air Force. You have to know more than most.” 

“Only sometimes.” 

“Better than never,” Tony says. 

“Why me?” Rhodey asks. “You could’ve asked anyone with military clearance or someone that knows you better.” 

“You never once questioned me in college,” Tony says simply. 

Rhodey stares. 

“That’s your reasoning?” 

“The reason why I’m his PA is because I didn’t bullshit on wrong answers, and Happy--his driver--got hired because he liked him more than other people,” Pepper says. “He has good intuition.” 

Rhodey takes another look at Tony. 

He looks determined. 

And he looks like he knows what he wants to do, and he’s going to make his own path. 

Rhodey can’t lie. He can’t say he doesn’t want to be there for that. He can’t lie and say he isn’t itching to get a look at the suit design, see where improvements can be made. 

He takes a deep breath. 

“So,” he starts, grinning, “When do I get my own suit? Can’t let you have all the fun.” 

Tony cracks a grin. 

“Let’s just try this one out first, pilot.” 

Rhodey grins, looking at the progress. Tony grins back, just as wide. 

“Well,” Rhodey says, nearly giddy. “Let’s start the future.” 

[raniiaaa]

walk me home

A gut feeling. That was what people who trusted themselves called the inner mechanism that helps them decide what’s right. You never had an inner compass telling you what to do. Actually, no, that's inaccurate. You had a compass, but its needle flitted wildly around, drawn to multiple unknown magnetic fields, leaving you to decipher which direction it stayed on for a millisecond longer. Nonetheless, you had this flawed sense of direction, but then he walked through that door for the first time. The effect was instantaneous. He was like neodymium, resolving your case of reversed polarity. 

The swanky party had progressed under the light of a surprisingly prominent New York full moon. Tinkling clinks of champagne glasses and gentle chatter played as a secondary soundtrack to a jazz quartet. As caterer staff, you needed to blend in with whatever wall you were positioned at. The table you were unofficially assigned to was taken care of right now, which meant you may be able to sneak out for a minute to just rest. The thought of it made your head loll slightly. This had been a long night and an unusual event. The attendees were the bigwigs of New York, which is saying a lot. There was a pre-event meeting where your boss outlined all the necessary procedures, your rush plan, and the times each of you would be cut. They didn’t need staff sitting around, which meant you could get out of these shoes soon and settle into your couch with some takeout and a movie on. You were just preparing for your last stretch when he arrived. 

...

You had been wondering who the empty seat at the table was for, which was now no longer a mystery. His entrance had been through a side entrance, not the elaborate front door like all the other party guests. Everything about how he carried himself led you to believe he was trying to draw the least amount of attention to himself. It wouldn’t be possible though, no one that beautiful could ever hide effectively. The spare glance he gave you when settling down in his chair held you in place, almost like it was his own arms pinning you to the wall you were backed up against. You quickly turned your head to face another direction, heat blooming at the apples of your cheeks. Just an hour and then you’d be gone. With the arrival of this stranger, you weren’t as excited to leave. 

...

Though consciously avoiding him for the rest of your time, your attention (and interest) didn’t turn away from him. You knew who he was, how could you not. The solemn eyes were more of a giveaway than the metal arm should have been, but there was so much about James Buchannan Barnes for you to notice. He was quiet, sipping on a glass of water and observing all the others. You had been wrong, this man could hide in a desert. 

You remained hyper-aware of him. 

It was your job to be attentive, you told yourself, that the business guests bring helps pay your salary. Yet there was no reason for you to observe the subtle way he leaned back in his chair, like putting space between him and others. Or the length of his lush eyelashes, how they frame that icy gaze. Said gaze flitted over you now, as you filled the glasses at his abandoned table. The glass in front of him was next, empty enough to require your attention. “Would you like some water sir?” your tone is cordial and removed, like a digital assistant’s pre recorded dialogue. He shakes his head, swirling the water in his glass carefully. You move to leave, but his voice stops you. “Why did you fill those other glasses?” his tone lacks any animosity, but you feel embarrassed nonetheless. You gape a little, prompting him to look away from the whirlpool in his glass and to you. His direct attention does not help with your answer at all. “It’s policy,” you say, an appeasing smile on your face. You want to tell him that you thought it was stupid too, even talked to your manager about it being a waste. Then one party guest complained about an empty water glass after coming back from the dance floor and you were back to seeing ridiculous amounts of water wasted. You couldn’t say any of this, though. Could you? Maybe, but you wanted this night to be a textbook one. You extracted yourself from the table, but there was a pull to stay. You defied it and left. 

 ...

He was here again, for another soiree with the rich and famous. You couldn’t tamp down the little flutter of excitement in your chest at the sight of him, chastising yourself for it immediately after. Adjusting your uniform ever so slightly, you set off to work another event, trying to ignore how your attention kept drawing itself to the northwest area of the lanai. 

...

The glass must have an optical illusion type design to it because there was much more bourbon in it than you thought. Or maybe you felt that way since it was running down your chest at the moment. The drunk party guest was nice at least, offering up an enthusiastic apology, swatting you with a tissue. Trying to extract their fondling hands graciously, you excused yourself and left.

 You rush to get a spare shirt from your locker and then go to the staff bathroom. The door was locked. Fuck, you need to get out of this shirt fast. Trying the guest bathrooms, you were actually thankful for the locked doors. Guessing from the noises coming through from the other side, the risqué situation wasn’t one you’d want to interrupt. That left one choice. 

...

Your hands fumbled, trying to extract yourself from your sodden prison. Stripping in a dark alleyway wasn’t something you expected to do tonight. Just when the fabric slipped from your shoulders, you heard a cough. Fuck.

You spun around to see. 

It was him. 

Double fuck. 

Your hands went to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.” you both say at the same time. He averts his eyes while you hurriedly pat yourself dry and put your shirt back on. “I wouldn’t have been here if I’d known it was the changing room.” he has a nervous smile on his face. The belated realization that he made a joke jolts you out of your frozen state. You sound a genuine laugh but it comes out strangled. Now it’s your turn to say something and you fall back on your previously assigned social roles. “Why are you back here Sir? We have a smoking room upstairs if you need a space for that,” you said, smoothing out the front of your uniform. Your hands slow as he stays silent, just looking at you. Are you imagining the way his eyes rove over your frame? Surely you must be. He looks up, sees how you’ve stilled and straightens up a bit. Shaking his head a bit, he nervously motions his hands in your general direction. “I’m sorry, it’s just that-” he pauses again, and you watch him with bated breath. “Your uniform isn’t on right.” Oh. 

Now you’re looking down at yourself in a frenzy, trying to right whatever mistake you made. He seems to take pity on you after a few minutes of not having located what it is. “I can,” he clears his throat, trying to rid it of the anxious growl it held, “Can I help you?” 

Your hands fall to your sides, a brief nod is all you can manage. He steps forward on the balls of his toes, like he anticipates you’ll run. The problem was in your collar, the back folded awkwardly within itself. You try not to think about how close he now is to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. Here you are, observing him again. Except you notice everything you couldn’t see from a distance. There’s a slight stubble across his chin and his eyelashes curl more than you thought. 

His nimble fingers fix it quickly, withdrawing from their previous position quickly. This action causes his hands to graze your neck. The sensitive skin there reacts, sending electric shocks all throughout your body and you jolt back. His reaction follows within the next few seconds. Before you can say anything, he’s already disappeared through a back door of some kind, into the sights and sounds of the crowd. 

...

You should have known not to carpool with Jack tonight. Unfortunately, he was the only one on the crew tonight who lived in your general vicinity. Also unfortunately, he got a salacious call from his girlfriend. Before you could even comprehend his words, you were dumped on the sidewalk. 

The night wasn’t ready to be over, it seemed. 

Following the bright blue line of the GPS on your phone, you began the trek to your home. Chilly air bit at your ears and you wished something warmer was between you and the elements. Hugging the thin jacket to yourself, your attention was tunnel visioned to the path directly in front of you. ‘Right, left. right, left’ you repeated, hoping this rhythm would get you through the 45 minute walk that lay ahead of you. Having just acclimated to your situation, something collided with you. Pushed to the ground, your heart didn’t have time to race before you were pulled upright again. The arms steadying you felt … familiar? Lo and behold, James Buchannan Barnes was before you, equally shocked to see your face. “Hello,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you lost the courage. Seeing him in the glitter of high profile parties while you worked was one thing, but running into a person of his stature out in the regular world was another thing. The suit he had been wearing a few hours before was now semi deconstructed. The top two buttons were undone, giving you just a hint of the skin beneath. His tie lay around his neck, the jacket (which you were sure was too expensive to be) slung behind his shoulder, hanging precariously from one finger. You tried not to stare at his forearms, exposed by how he rolled up his sleeves. You just ended up staring at his face then, which really wasn’t a good idea if not getting flustered was your goal. His eyes were now squarely on you, the heat your body was so deprived of earlier now beginning to grow in your chest. “I hadn’t been able to say this earlier, but thank you,” you began, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. “I would have probably been stuck with my arms over my head trying to get out of that shirt if you hadn’t helped me. If I ever need to change again, I’ll call you.” What the fuck? It’s ok, you can ride it out if you don’t start rambling. 

There was silence for a few minutes, so obviously you started to ramble. 

“Not that I can’t take my clothes off myself, just that you might be better at it.” Bad. “Not that I want for you to take my clothes off,” that’s a lie, you do, “I mean that it’s definitely not your responsibility, that's what I meant you know. And that definitely doesn’t happen usually, it’s just cause the shirt was wet. But yeah, it’s my responsibility. And I’m sure you have much more important things to do…” Oh god.

“No problem.” he said, his voice just barely at an octave the human ear could comprehend. The previous silence fell back onto you both, your embarrassed gaze affixed on the ground. Decorum be damned, you were just going to turn around and start running away. While contemplating this, you felt something heavy rest itself around your shoulders. Lifting a hand to touch it, you felt silky fabric overlaid by wool. Looking up, you saw how close he was to you now, arms encasing your sides while laying the jacket onto you. After adjusting it to make sure it didn’t slip, he drew his arms back, slipping his hands into his pockets. His scent, which had intoxicated you the entire night, pervaded your senses. By reflex, you snuggled into fabric before realizing how it may look. “You were shivering.” he said.

 “I wasn’t planning on walking home tonight, so I didn’t layer up right,” you said after a brief pause. The tilt of his head prompted you to recount your night’s woes. After regaling him, his demeanor shifted. “ If you would allow me,” he said, “I would like to walk you home.” 

You tried not to look too shocked. Your night was veering into fiction. Then the truth of your situation hit you. New York at night was not kind to anyone, you had to have some kind of protection. What was better for the job than a fucking Avenger?! The words were caught in your throat for a few seconds, but you eventually managed to speak, “Yes I, uh, thank you. That would be - that would be great.” For the next few seconds, you both just stood. “Oh, right,” you had forgotten he didn’t know what direction to go. Neither did you, really, but google maps said northwards so that’s where you continued to go. 

Silence was right there beside you two, in the middle. You didn’t know how to cross that gorge, or if you even should. Then you remembered. 

“I tried to change the policy,” you said, before you could stop and consider your words. His steps faltered for only a second till returning to normal. That was too vague a statement, what were you thinking? “The water glasses, I mean.” He now paused for more than a second. “You remembered that?” he sounded puzzled. You couldn’t understand why he thought you wouldn’t. Did he really not know how memorable he was? “Of course, I had a lot more to say that I couldn’t get into.” He gave only a nod and you thought it was the end. “Why?” he said, clearing his throat as if to get the words out. “Why couldn’t you get into it?” 

You considered this, but eventually just shrugged. “I guess I’m quiet when working.” 

Silence threatened to fall back into place so you asked, “Do you like them? The parties?” 

It had always been something you were curious about, seeing as he had never participated in the fanfare and festivities of the numerous parties he attended. Not all of them were galas and fundraisers, some were your regular end of the week party for people rich enough to rent the building regularly. He would drift in with a few people (sometimes the faces you saw on billboards after they saved the city and sometimes others), stay with them for a little before they went to the dancefloor and he stayed at the table. Sometimes, he would get prompted to the dancefloor or into conversation with a beautiful woman. Still, there seemed to be a string drawing and holding him to the table. 

He remained quiet for a while, weighing his words like he was trying to find the right number of kilos to match his budget. When he spoke, you were shocked to hear how solemn it sounded

“I’m trying to find someone.” The longing was apparent in his voice. You had the distinct feeling that you were currently privy to something few people had ever even caught a glimpse of. You didn’t say anything, hoping to allow him the space he needed if any other words came out of hiding. 

He struggled with the following ones that did, “Before it all happened,” it was obvious what it all was, “I loved parties.” Clearing his throat, he probed further. “Seeing people and being seen, meeting others for the first time despite having been introduced last week, letting a few hours escape from a dull week.” He paused again, clearly struggling. There was something akin to wistfulness in his eyes, made glassy by past memories. “I’m trying to see if I can love them again, I guess.” He sighed and you tried not to pay too much attention to its musical quality, “It doesn’t seem to be coming back.” 

“Maybe that’s ok.” You don’t know if that’s the right thing to say. However, the pain he felt was so apparent in his words and you just wanted to alleviate it in any way possible. “Even if you don’t like parties now, are there new things you like?” you said. He paused to consider this. “I guess I read more.” he said with a slight chuckle. You grabbed the chance, “What books have you been reading?”

...

Along the way, your task to cheer him up dissolved and all that was left was a deep desire to get to know him better. You don’t know what prompted you to do it, whether insanity or pure genius, but you asked if he wanted to join your book club. 

To your surprise, he asked when the next meeting was.  

Your apartment building reared into view as you told him. With a nod, he escorted you to the wire gates leading to the central courtyard. “Oh, here.” you tried to shrug off his jacket, but his hands landed on your shoulders to stop you. “Keep it for now. You can return it during the next book club meeting.” Your shock at his acceptance of your invitation dissipated after seeing the mischievous smile on his face. “You don’t even know where it is.” you said, with mock exasperation. A sly smile lifting the corners of your mouth, you took out the pen from tonight’s shift. “Arm?” You said, motioning the drawing of the pen as you said it. He brought up the right one. The feel of his skin on yours was intoxicating and you tried to ignore the tension hanging in the air as you began to gently write the digits of your phone number. “Text me with this number and I’ll add you to our group chat,”. You both looked at each other, his arm still in your grasp long after you had finished. “I really hope to see you,” you said, before letting his arm drop and going inside. 

You, unfortunately, didn’t get to see the shy smile he walked with for the rest of the night.

[booksarelife-stuff]

The Story of Us-Chapter 4

Jily (James Potter/ Lily Evans), minor wolfstar

Word Count: 2,566

Modern Muggle AU. When Lily Evans meets the man across the hall due to a fire alarm, she has no idea that a new chapter of her life has begun. Featuring a librarian Lily and sports journalist James.

Masterlist      Read on A03      Chapter 5

Chapter 4- there’s glitter on the floor after the party

Lily decided to come in a little early to James’s flat to see if he needed any help. When she knocked, she expected James, not the tall man with shoulder length curly hair and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. 

“You must be Lily,” he said, charm oozing out of her voice. 

“Let me guess,” Lily replied. “Sirius?”

“So he’s told you about me?” he said, raising his eyebrows. 

“And he’s told you about me?” Lily fired back. Sirius smiled and stepped out of the way, gesturing her in with an extension of his arm. 

Buttercream meowed loudly from James’s couch. Lily knew she’d get his ginger fur on her black sweater if she picked him up, but she determined it would be worth it. She set the bottle wine she brought down and scooped up Buttercream who started purring loudly in her arms. 

“He likes you?” Sirius asked, closing the front door.

“Buttercream?” Lily asked, turning around to face him. “Yeah. I give him the best pets.”

Lily continued on petting Buttercream. 

“So, you’re the one who has been indulging James with period pieces?” Sirius asked, he leaned against the door, crossing his arms. 

“That would be me,” she said. “Unless he’s watching Outlander with another Lily.”

“Hmm,” he said. “He did tell me you were a spitfire.”

Lily glanced up at him. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Sirius said. 

“Where’s James?” 

“He’s getting ready,” Sirius said, nodding to James’s bedroom door. 

James had great timing as his bedroom door opened. He was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, his taunt muscles showing on his dark skin. His hair was still damp, but Lily could see that the stubborn pieces in the back were already starting to stick up. 

Lily quickly averted her eyes, hoping her cheeks didn’t flush. 

“Sirius, do you think Lil—” James saw Lily standing there. “Oh hey! Do you like my shirt?”

Lily took along second, mostly to make James squirm for a second. It was a red flannel that he had rolled up the sleeves. He looked great in it. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “Why would you care about what I think of your shirt?”

“Because it’s mostly your friends coming,” he said. “I want to make a good impression.”

“You’ve already met Remus and Marlene.”

“Yeah, but not in an official capacity!”

Lily rolled her eyes and turned back to Buttercream, who was snuggling against her neck. She sent him down and watched as Sirius strode over to James.

“James, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sirius drawled. Lily could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Ah yes. Lily, Sirius. Sirius, Lily.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sirius said. He stepped forward and grabbed Lily’s hand and kissed it. She laughed at James’s grimace on his face. 

“Ever the flirt, like James said,” Lily said, laughing at the man. Sirius seemed unphased. 

“Flirting is part of my charm,” he said, shooting her a wink. “You’d think James would be better at it, seeing is how he spent his formative years with me.”

“I can flirt!” James said adamantly. “I just don’t do it to everything that moves.”

They started bickering and Lily grabbed the bottle wine and put it in his fridge. James had set out little appetizers for the guests who were coming. James had been really excited when Lily had told him that Remus and Marlene were going to come. Something about it made sure that James loved company and was probably a frequent partier in uni, though he had never told her that. 

There was a knock on the door and James stopped nagging Sirius about his “bloody loud music” and went to open the door. James opened it and there stood Remus, holding some board games and smiling. 

“Remus, nice to see you again. Come in,” James said, moving out of the way of the doorframe. Remus came in and he smiled at Lily. 

“Thank you for the invitation, James. The girls said I need to get out more,” he said. 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Sirius said.

When Lily looked at Sirius, she could only think of one way to describe the look in his eyes as he looked upon Remus. Like a wolf, ready to devour. 

Remus looked up at him and he smiled again, though significantly less wider. 

“Oh I don’t believe I’ve met you,” Remus said, ever the polite one. “I’m Remus. I work  with Lily in the library.”

Sirius went and kissed his hand just as he did with Lily. Lily met James’s eyes and they both rolled it. 

“Lily, I think I need your help in the kitchen,” James said. She followed him as he walked past. The apartment was an open one, no walls to separate the kitchen in the living room, but it was centerly enough for her and James to quietly whisper. 

“I think my brother has set sights on your friend,” James whispered, sneaking a glance over there. Lily turned around and looked at them, watching the flush spread across Remus’s cheeks.

“I can tell,” Lily whispered back. “I think Remus is into it though. He hasn’t pulled away.”

“Leave it to Sirius to pick someone up before the party even starts.”

“He seems like the type to ditch you at the bar,” Lily said. James laughed a little.

“Yes, but chances are he’ll come. He tends to strike out a lot.”

Marlene came with Dorcas, her girlfriend of two years. They made a stunning pair, Lily always thought so. They both were tall enough to be models and had the looks for it as well. Dorcas’s dark skin and natural curls were something that had captured Marlene immediately when they met at an art show. 

Lily let James just embrace them. He fell into easy conversation with Marlene, as she was a football player in her uni days. Lily was talking to Dorcas when there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Oh, Mary!” James said, running to the door. He opened the door and embraced the woman standing there. Lily tried to not watch, but he hugged her tightly. 

“This is Mary! She’s the last one for today,” James said, pulling her in. Mary was beautiful. Her hair was purple but her makeup was flawless, He had bright colors on her eyes that made the deep brown ones shine. 

“Oi, Jamie! Why are you wearing red? I’ve told you a million times to wear colors that compliments your eyes!”

“Oh come off it,” James said, playfully shoving her. 

“I have a degree in this!” Mary said. “If you listened, you would have been fighting girls back for miles. Instead they run away because of your sense of fashion.”

Whatever knot that had been tightening in Lily’s chest loosened a bit at Mary’s words. 

James started introducing everyone to her. When he got to Lily, she watched Mary’s eyes sparkle. 

“You’re the one he hasn’t been shutting up about then?” she asked. “I feel like I already know you.”

Lily laughed a little, accepting her extended hand. 

“I’m not sure what he said,” Lily said. “I hope it’s only good things.”

“Oh, trust me,” she said. “I would have thought you hung the moon.”

“Alright you two,” James said. Lily smiled a little about the blush that was on his cheeks. 

They ate and got through three bottles of wine. They played games like Cards Against Humanity, Remus surprisingly winning with ease. 

James and Mary were engaged in a game of Twister. Lily was watching them by the back of the couch. Dorcas was calling out the moves while Marlene refereed, paying close attention. Remus was sneaking glances at Sirius, thinking he was being subtle. 

Sirius sauntered over to Lily, watching James twist around Mary to put his left hand on red. 

“Getting tipsy yet?” he asked, taking a sip of deep red in his cup. 

“I think I’m there,” she replied. She knew her cheeks were flushed and there was a fuzzy feeling in her head. 

“I may have to cut you off,” he said. 

“I can hold my own Black,” she replied. Sirius had given the colorful tale of he ended up getting adopted by James’ family and he kept his own last name to spite his mother. 

“Oh I know. It’s for Mary’s sake,” he whispered. Lily turned and looked at him. She wanted to wipe that all-knowing look off his face. 

“What does that mean?”

“I saw the daggers you shot Mary when she arrived.”

Lily took a big sip of her wine. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. Sirius draped his arm over Lily. 

“Helpful tip about my brother,” he whispered leaning in. “He loves with his whole heart. He gives it his all. And he has a one track mind.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered, despite her heart rate picking up. 

“So you know that Mary is a friend. And James has no interest in her,” Sirius replied. 

Lily watched as Mary fell on the mat and Marlene called it a James victory. 

“I still don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Lily said, swallowing. 

James turned to Lily. 

“Lily I won!” he said, a face splitting grin on his face. She instantly matched his smile. 

“Good job, James!” she called back. 

“I hope you like living in denial. Please don’t hurt him,” Sirius whispered to her. 

“And don’t hurt Remus,” she replied. She turned and looked at Sirius, only to see his eyes shining. 

“Touche,” he said. He tipped his glass and finished what was left in his cup before walking away. 

James walked her way, sporting a big smile and two cookies. He handed Lily one. 

“What was Sirius talking to you about?” he asked, settling where the other man had been only seconds before. He didn’t get as close as him, but their elbows brushed. 

“Oh, just that he’s making eyes at Remus,” she replied. 

“Oh, I could tell!” James said, excitedly. “Though, Sirius doesn’t have the best track record.”

They watched as Sirius sat next to Remus on the floor as Marlene and Dorcas were playing Twister, Mary watching as Remus called the moves. 

“If he breaks Remus’s heart, you’ll be the first to feel my wrath,” Lily said. James chuckled. 

“How about I give you Sirius' address and help hide the body?” he offered instead. 

Lily sighed, dramatically, like she was actually considering this deal. 

“No, you get my wrath first,” she said. James lightly elbowed her. 

It fell silent, the only sound was the sounds of the twister mat and Remus’s calls. Marlene took this seriously, whether or not she was playing her girlfriend. 

“Have you gotten to chat with Mary much?” James asked. Her heart clenched. 

“A little. She seems great,” Lily said, hoping her tone didn’t betray her. 

“She is. She’s been like my little sister since school,” James said. “Always knew she would be a fashion designer, that one. Once after a game, she didn’t even tell me about my good job, just said ‘Those uniform colors are horrid’.”

Lily giggled. 

“I bet they were,” she said. 

As the party went on, Lily did bond with Mary over Project Runway and the fact that Lily’s skirt was made of suede. Remus and Sirius snuck out early, Remus leaving the board games he brought. Lily shared a knowing look with James. 

Mary left not too long after that. She hugged everyone and Lily hoped she would come back again. She was the life of the party and seemed to to get on with Dorcas and Marlene, who left not too long after that. 

Lily insisted on staying and helping him clean up, since Sirius had bailed on him. Lily was washing out everyone’s wine glasses while James was putting away the leftovers. 

“I love your friends,” he said, his voice quiet. 

“You all exchanged numbers,” Lily said. “I think they’re your friends now too.”

James chuckled, the sound low in his throat. It was probably the wine that made her incredibly attracted to the sound. 

“I suppose so,” he said. 

The sound of a phone vibrating on the table made Lily turn. It was hers. 

“It says Petunia is calling,” James said. 

“Oh shit,” Lily muttered. “Answer it for me and tell her I’ll be there in a second.”

Lily doesn't know what possessed her to allow James to answer the call to her sister while she washed the soap off her hands and dried them. But she just didn’t think. 

“Hello, Lily will be here in a second, she’s cleaning her hands,” James answered the phone pleasantly. 

Lily turned around to see James grimace at whatever Petunia was saying. She mouthed a “sorry” and reached for the phone. 

“Hey Tuney, I’m here,” she said, walking to James’s living room. 

“Who was that man?” Petunia asked. Lily could hear the sneer in her voice. 

“Nevermind him,” Lily said. “What are you calling about?”

Petunia only called for one of three reasons. One, Lily had pissed her off. Two, She felt the need to piss Lily off. Three, their mother made her. 

“To remind you of the engagement party next week for Vernon and I,” she said. Lily sighed. She had forgotten all about that. 

“Yes, I remember,” she lied. 

“Do you have your dress picked out? Remember it’s a black tie event. I won’t have you showing up in a sundress, like you did to Vernon’s birthday.”

Fuck, Lily thought. She didn’t have a dress. 

“Yes, Tuney. I will wear something appropriate.” 

“And your date?”

“My date?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunched together. Lily never remembered getting a plus one. 

“Lily, for God’s sake,” Petunia spat out. “I told you to bring a date! I don’t want you mingling too much with Vernon’s family and you need someone to occupy your time.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Lily said, shaking a little. She wanted nothing more to punch Petunia. 

“Well too bad. Date or you’re not coming. Ask the bloke who answered the phone,” Petunia said. “Unless he has bad manners.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of it Tuney,” Lily said with a sigh. 

Petunia hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Lily groaned loudly, slipping her phone into her pocket. 

“Everything good Evans?”James called out. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame. 

“Yep, just peachy,” she replied. 

“Petunia is your sister right?” he asked, approaching her. 

“Sure is,” Lily replied. James stood in front of her, looking soft.

“What did she want?”

Lily sighed. She had explained to James vaguely about her relationship with Petunia. She didn’t want him to think she was less than, like Petunia had. 

“She was reminding me about her engagement party,” Lily said. “Which I did forget about. But it’s black-tie and I have to bring a date.”

James raised his eyebrows. 

“Why do you have to bring a date?”

“Tuney thinks I’m less likely to ruin things if I have someone with me,” Lily replied. 

“When’s the party?” James asked, pulling his phone out. 

“Next Saturday,” Lily replied. James smiled. 

“I’m free,” he said, turning his smile to Lily.

“You’ll be my date?” she asked. 

“Yep,” he said. 

“It’ll be boring.”

James rolled his eyes. 

“Not when you’re with me,” he said. 

[stonecoldhedwig]

Caraway Street: 1

Decided to start master-listing my fics on Tumblr, so here we go with the big WIP! 

_________________________ Chapter 1: Shotgun  Sirius looked around him, as the floorboard creaked beneath his feet. The room was surprisingly airy, with a sloping ceiling and whitewashed walls, and a little window that looked out over a somewhat-bedraggled back garden. The August day was hot and bright, beating down on the flagstones below, and through the open window Sirius could hear the sounds of the city alive with activity.

He and Remus had taken a room together in a flat along with James, at the top of a slightly-crumbling Edwardian house in London’s Muswell Hill. The house belonged to a bumbling man called Elphias Doge, who Sirius was quite convinced was over a hundred years old, and who had a penchant for remarkable hats. They’d found the advert for the place on a noticeboard in a coffee shop early in the summer, after a terrible viewing of a flat with so much black mould that Remus had walked out midway through. The first time they’d visited the house, Sirius had declared it perfect, even with the peeling paint in the bathroom and the front door that required a hard shove to open; the slim cupboard door in the hall that revealed stairs up to the roof had been the icing on the cake. Even better, the bigger flat below (which was in considerably better condition, James pointed out), had come available at the same time, and Lily, Dorcas and Marlene were set to move in.

Together. The word didn’t get old. Hadn’t got old for nearly a year now, Sirius thought. The word still had the capacity to send a frisson of excitement through him, make his heart beat a little faster. Remus, him, together. Sirius grinned in spite of himself. He turned, and cast his eyes over the piles of boxes, the bare mattress on the wrought iron bed frame, and the detritus of his life that lay scattered about, waiting to be unpacked. Their lives. Together.

“That’s everything, and I’ve finally got rid of Elphias,” Remus said as he walked into the room. He pulled his sunglasses off the top of his head, running a hand through his sandy blond hair. He shoved them into the pocket on his shirt, and walked over to where Sirius stood by the window.

“Elphias is such a legend,” Sirius grinned.

“God, he can talk though,” Remus replied. “I feel like I know his family inside out, and it’s only the second time I’ve met the man.”

Sirius barked out a laugh.

“He just likes a chat,” he said, good-naturedly. “Anyway, enough about Elphias. We’ve got a week until Prongs gets back from his holiday with Evans. What do you want to do with all this free time now we’re here? Christen the bed? Shag on every possible surface?” Sirius wiggled his eyes suggestively, and Remus swatted him on the arm.

“We should unpack,” Remus said finally, looking at the boxes and suitcases that littered the room.

“It’ll wait,” Sirius said, pulling him closer. “Why don’t we go explore the new hood?”

“The hood,” Remus repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Sirius grinned, “the new hood. The ends, the neighby, the homestead, the turf.”

“You are so white.”

“I shall ignore that comment, and direct you to the front door. C’mon.” Sirius held out a hand, and Remus took it, smiling in spite of himself.

They made their way down the two flights of stairs, passing the front door to what would soon be the girls’ flat, and the accountants whose office occupied the ground floor. Stepping out into the hot summer sunshine, Sirius glanced back at the building. Even the name sounded good, he thought. 11, Caraway Street.

“Can you believe we’ve actually done it? Graduated, I mean,” Remus asked, smiling gratefully as Sirius held the garden gate open for him as he stepped onto the street.

“It feels bizarre, doesn’t it?” Sirius hummed, lacing their fingers together as they crossed the road. It was a wide, quiet street on a slight incline, with plane trees in bloom along the pavement and the houses on either side replicas of their own - albeit, somewhat less scruffy.

“I feel a bit bad about Pete, to be honest,” Remus admitted, as they strolled. “It can’t be fun having most of your friends move to London and you’ve moved to Bristol.”

“Eh,” Sirius shrugged, “that’s graduate life, isn’t it? You go where the jobs are. Plus, his job pays so well that he can afford to come visit!”

“True, and I guess it’s not just him who’s not living with friends anymore. Mary and Reg have finally found a flat in Edinburgh.”

“Oh good! I know Mary was worried - Marlene mentioned it the other day on Skype.”

“How is Marlene?”

“She’s doing well,” Sirius said, “tanned as anything. She’s back in the country in the next couple of days, and not happy about it - I think Spain suits her.”

“Sun, sea, and sangria would suit me too,” Remus replied.

“Getting bored of me already, Lupin?” Sirius teased.

Remus was about to reply with a sarcastic comment, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the door to number 26 swung open. He and Sirius stopped at the sound of a rather fake sounding cough.

“Hem, hem.”

They turned, and found themselves face-to-face with a woman who Remus could only describe as looking remarkably like a toad in a cardigan. She had a wide, pallid face with a broad, lipstick-coated mouth that was plastered into such an unpleasant smile that Remus didn’t know where to look. Perched atop her head was a pink velvet bow, matching the fuchsia dress she was wearing, and the sickly, baby pink knitwear she had draped about her shoulders.

“Have you just moved into number eleven?” she asked, in an uncomfortably girlish tone. Remus glanced at Sirius out the corner of his eye.

“Er, yes, we have,” he said.

“Dolores Umbridge, how do you do,” she simpered, stepping forward and extending a hand over the low garden wall.

“How do you do,” Sirius replied, taking her hand. “Sirius Black.”

“Remus Lupin,” Remus said, doing the same in turn.

“So lovely to see such bright smiling faces move into the area,” she said, looking at Sirius appraisingly. Remus bit his lip to stifle his grin - he was never going to let Sirius live this down, that he was getting checked out by an amphibian in argyle.

“What is it that you’ve moved to Muswell Hill to do?” Umbridge continued.

“I’ve just got a job working as a buyer in a gallery,” Sirius said. “Remus is studying for his masters in History.”

“I see,” Umbridge breathed. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“What is it you do?” Remus asked politely.

“Oh I’m very involved in the local community,” Umbridge simpered, puffing up. “I run the local Conservative association ladies club, you know, and..."

Sirius zoned out, unable to keep his attention on what she was saying when her hands were so distracting. She counted on her stubby little fingers as she spoke, bedecked with some of the most unattractive costume jewellery Sirius had ever seen. One of the rings seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it - amber, with a kind of serpent set in the middle of it.

“And I run the women’s union at the church,” she continued, before enquiring, “have you a faith?”

“Oh yes, hail Satan,” Sirius said, in such a sweet and unassuming tone of voice that Umbridge did a double take to make sure she’d heard him correctly. She paled, her toad-like eyes growing wide with horror.

“He was joking,” Remus said quickly. “Quirky sense of humour, you know.”

“Yes, well…” Umbridge trailed off, looking quickly between the two boys as though she couldn’t work out if they were mocking her.

“Anyway, we must be off,” Sirius said jovially. “It was lovely to meet you, Delilah.”

“Dolores,” Remus muttered.

“Yes! Dolores!”

“And you,” Umbridge replied, her simpering tone returned.

“Goodbye now,” Remus said, and they turned. They walked away with Remus feeling as though Umbridge was watching their every move as they passed further down the street.

“Hail Satan?” Remus said under his breath, once they were out of earshot.

“I couldn’t resist!”

“Well, something tells me that woman is insane.”

“Total fruitcake,” Sirius replied. _________________________

Remus and Sirius spent the afternoon exploring their new home. They walked down Muswell Hill towards Alexandra Palace, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city and browsing the shops as they went. At one point, Sirius tried to buy them ice creams at a little shop run by a very enthusiastic man, who had introduced himself as Florian Fortescue. Upon finding out they had just moved into the area, he had plied them with an ice cream each and categorically insisted that they didn’t pay. They spent a happy few hours lounging in the park, before meandering home.

Later that evening, and once they’d returned to the flat to begin their mammoth task of unpacking, Sirius stepped out to collect their take out food that had been delivered. He walked to the curb, handing over the cash in his hand to the driver and receiving their delivery in return. He had just pushed open the low iron gate, which squeaked horrendously, when a figure seemed to emerge from nowhere in next-door’s garden, springing up. Whatever the figure was wearing seemed to billow about them in the evening breeze, giving an ethereal appearance out the corner of Sirius’ eye. When it spoke, its voice was loud and clear.

“You must be one of our new neighbours!”

Sirius yelped, nearly dropping the bag he was carrying full of take out food. He spun round, and came face-to-face with what was, in fact, an old man. He was tall, and looked rather friendly, as Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest.

“Bloody hell,” he cried, “you scared the life out of me!”

“Sorry,” the old man chuckled. Now Sirius had a chance to look at him properly, he noted the man’s incredible appearance. He had a long white beard, and had on a pair of gold-rimmed, half-moon spectacles, behind which were a pair of electric blue eyes. They were surrounded by wrinkles, and glittered with amusement and inquisitiveness. Atop his equally long white hair was perched a little hat with a gold tassel, and what had seemed like eerie robes were in fact a rather striking midnight blue dressing gown, embroidered with constellations.

“Albus Dumbledore,” he said, extending a hand. Sirius took it, surprised by the strength of the old man’s grip.

“Sirius Black,” he replied.

“Black, Black,” Dumbledore repeated, looking like he was searching his mind as though it were a filing cabinet. He scanned Sirius’ face. “Not the Grimmauld Blacks?”

“Unfortunately,” Sirius smiled ruefully.

“Orion Black?”

“My father. Again, unfortunately.”

“I think I saw your father in court, once.”

“Really?” Sirius frowned.

“I was a lawyer for a long time,” Dumbledore said, “before I became a professor.”

“Oh, well then, you’d have got the full force of my father’s stellar personality, he hates lawyers. Let me guess, it was tax evasion, or something like that?”

“Something like that, yes,” Dumbledore smiled softly. He lifted his left hand, and Sirius saw him holding a trowel. “I’m sorry for scaring you, I should have thought that you weren’t expecting anyone. I have to do the gardening at night at the moment, as it’s too hot during the day.”

Sirius was about to reply, when the front door of Dumbledore’s house opened, and out stepped a woman who he would have described as old, but nowhere near as old as the gentleman standing in front of him. She had a lined and somewhat stern face, and was dressed in a dark green shirtwaist dress, with her dark hair pulled back into a bun.

“Albus, did you- oh!”

She had a clipped Scottish accent, and looked surprised to see Dumbledore speaking to someone. She stepped out of the front door, and crossed the garden.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said warmly, as she approached. “This is one of our new neighbours - I’m afraid I’ve just frightened the life out of the poor boy.”

“No harm done,” Sirius said kindly, and smiled at the woman.

“Minerva McGonagall,” she said.

“Sirius,” he replied, deciding to leave off his surname. No doubt the old man would share it later.

“Have you lived here long?” Sirius asked, politely, while acutely aware that the takeaway in his bag was cooling.

“Minerva’s lived here for, what, twenty years?” Dumbledore said, turning to look at her.

“Twenty three.”

“She’s an old friend,” Dumbledore continued, “and very kindly offered to let me lodge with her. I moved in only last year. We practiced law together for many years.”

“Lovely.”

“You’ve just moved in then?” McGonagall asked, albeit a little suspiciously.

“Yes, just me and my boyfriend at the moment. Lazy first night, you know, thought we’d order in,” Sirius said, lifting the takeout bag up.

“We’ll let you get on,” Dumbledore said warmly, “and hopefully we’ll meet again soon.”

“It was lovely to meet you,” Sirius said to them both, and stepped back across the flowerbed he’d been standing in to the garden path.

“Cheerio, then,” Dumbledore smiled, and Sirius waved. He turned, and fished about in his pocket for his house keys. Remus would wonder where he’d got to, he thought. Finding the keys, he stepped onto the front step, and just as he was about to put the key into the lock, Sirius heard a hushed tone from the next-door garden.

“Do you know, Minerva, that young man is the son of Orion Black?”

“No!” Sirius heard the woman reply. “He seemed positively pleasant!”

Always the tone of surprise, Sirius thought, grinning and letting himself into the house.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

A pretty woman AU???

Sirius was having a shit day. It had started with his father coming into his office and requesting that Sirius do a specific task for him. Talking to Orion was punishment enough, but he was sending Sirius on a two week trip to get his 'personal opinion on the situation' since apparently the people Orion hired to oversee that branch were trustworthy enough to be running the place but not trustworthy enough to believe their figures. "It'll be an easy visit," Orion had said. 

"Then why do I have to be there for two weeks?" 

"It's always good to remind them that we are watching." 

Sirius had thought that was so sodding stupid, and he'd said so, but Orion was-- unsurprisingly-- standing firm. 

Then Regulus called him up and said that he'd gotten a gig over in bloody America and could Sirius cover for him? Thanks. Then he'd hung up. So Sirius had to run by their flat and make sure Reg had remembered to lock the buggering door-- he hadn't-- and call their usual dog sitter (Remus, who put up with them for god only knows why) to see if he was free. He wasn't, so Sirius had to bring Snuffles to a fucking dog spa place that he barely had time to look up on his phone, let alone see if he trusted them for shite. He trusted them not to kill Snuffles, and that was going to have to be good enough. 

The silver lining was that Gilderoy had broken up with him a few days ago so he didn't have to worry about that. The not silver lining was that Gilderoy had dumped him for someone "more glamorous, less ashamed of himself, you know what I mean?" and it's not like Sirius had been in love with the bloke or anything, but talk about insulting. Sirius was plenty glamorous, he just didn't paint everything with pink and gold glitter. And he wasn't fucking ashamed of himself, but he didn't want to grind on his boyfriend in public either. He was glad to be rid of him honestly, but it still made Sirius angry to think about. 

So Sirius was in a pretty piss poor mood when he got in the car, and he couldn't imagine that the next two weeks would make him feel much better. He was a god damn business man. It's not like he hated his life or anything, but a business man? He could very honestly say that this was never what he imagined for himself. Hell, Reg was out living the dream more than he was. Him and his mates had made a band together, and they played enough shit locations until someone saw the talent and started paying them. They weren't anywhere near rock star levels, but he was making money off of it, able to get a new piercing when he wanted instead of asking Sirius for some cash-- not that Sirius minded, fuck knows their father paid him more than enough to finance whatever whim Regulus was having that week. The part that really got to him about his job was that it was so boring. He didn't need to be excited all day every day or summat, but it would be nice to tell people what he did every day without them nodding and immediately excusing themselves. 

He was in a shite mood when he got in the car, and he'd finally started to feel better when he felt a headache start to form behind his eyes. Sodding hell this was the icing on the bloody cake, wasn't it? It started to get worse in a hurry, the sunlight seeming far too bright behind his sunglasses. He pulled into the first gas station he saw, figuring he might as well refuel while he looked for medicine-- and maybe a snack, because c'mon, all driving longer than ten minutes required a snack. 

He found powdered sugar donuts, but no headache relief. Marvelous. He was not going to be able to make the rest of this drive like this. He was going to have to wait until it went away or risk crashing. Sirius had just about resigned himself to wasting a couple hours when he saw someone standing by the side of the road, poking at his phone aimlessly. He had dark skin, messy black hair, thick glasses, and if Sirius weren't fighting off nausea, flirting might be on the table. But thinking about his powdered donuts made him want to sick up his lunch, so he was going to keep any and all flirting ideology to himself. 

"This is going to sound weird," Sirius said as he walked up next to him, rubbing at his temple as it pounded, "but can you drive me to my hotel? It's not very far, you'd be driving my car, I just need to get there before I feel any worse." 

"Er." 

"Please? It's all aboveboard, I promise. I'm not going to murder you or whatever." 

"Shouldn't you be worried about me kidnapping you? If I'm the one driving, I mean." 

Sirius gave him a look. "What would you even do with me? I'm a pain when I'm playing nice, do you really want to see what I'm like when I'm trying to be contrary?" 

"That's a fair point." He bit his lip, thinking. Then he sighed. "Where to?" 

Sirius rattled off the address, then pulled it up on his phone and showed it to the man. "Business bullshit, I just need to get there and hope this bloody headache fucks off to greener pastures." 

"Best of luck to you," he said. He sighed again. "Alright, I'll take you, but only because I've got nothing better to do. My mate just canceled on me." 

"Rude of him, good for me." 

He snorted, raising a hand to muss his hair. It made Sirius wonder if his hair was naturally messy or if he was causing it by messing with it all the time. Either way, it was a good look on him. Any time Sirius had a single hair out of place he looked awful, but this made the bloke even more attractive. What an arse. Being interested in him was just making his headache worse. Or maybe the headache was getting worse for completely unrelated reasons. Either way, Sirius wanted some bloody shuteye. He squinted his eyes against the light that suddenly seemed piercing, and he somehow managed to get to the car and toss his keys on the dashboard. 

There was the distinct possibility that this guy would like, steal his car or summat, but in the moment he didn't give a single fuck. It all worked out in the end, he parked the car in the hotel's lot and turned off the car, setting the keys in front of Sirius. "Hope you feel better mate," he said, but Sirius grabbed his arm before he could leave. 

It's not like he'd meant to grab his arm, but he needed to stop him from leaving before Sirius could thank him. Words weren't working so well. Hence, grabbing his arm. He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a bill and handing it out to him. 

"Er." 

Sirius shook his hand a little in invitation. "For driving me," he managed to get out. 

"That's twenty quid." 

"Yeah," Sirius grunted. 

"Are you... sure?" 

Sirius just kept holding it out to him. 

"If you're sure," he said with a shrug. Or at least what Sirius assumed was a shrug, it's not like he was looking at him. 

He left, but Sirius stayed in the car for a while, waiting for it to get to a manageable enough level for him to make his way into the hotel. He managed to get in there and check into his room, but if he was asked how he did it, he wouldn't have been able to say. The time from car to his hotel room was a blur, and all he knew was that he managed to pass out face-first onto the bed in a blissfully dark room. 

Somehow he'd been smart enough to set an alarm for the meeting he needed to get to on his first day. His headache was gone by that time thank fuck, and he rolled off the bed, figuring he could use a quick shower before he went down to strike fear in the hearts of these people that Orion didn't want to deal with himself. He turned on the water then stripped, ducking under and giving himself a quick scrub with the body wash provided. There wasn't going to be time to properly dry his hair-- even if he used the blowdrier-- so he'd tie it back and call it a day. 

*

Sirius had been in this place for just over one day when he saw him again. Now that it didn't feel like his head was going to split open, it was a lot easier to appreciate how attractive he was. Broad shoulders and a tilt to his hips that looked very inviting. He wasn't wearing his glasses right now, which made his nose look bigger and his jaw more square. His trousers were so tight they looked painted on, and his button up shirt was half undone and translucent besides. He had a brief flash of what it would be like to push him against a wall and peel him out of those trousers, but they weren't at a club and that was a damn shame because Sirius would give his right leg to get some time with him. 

He was so caught up in appreciating all this that it took him a minute to recognise exactly what was going on. Men didn't stand on street corners dressed like that for no reason. He was a rent boy. Which meant... that Sirius didn't have to give his right leg for some time, he could purchase it nice and easy with cash. And that was pretty damn great. He did a quick check to make sure that yes, he had enough cash, but also that he didn't have anything else to do tonight. He didn't have to go back to the office, he never did, so he wasn't sure why he bothered to double check, but he always did. 

The man saw Sirius approaching and he grinned. "I see you got to your hotel safely." 

"It was a pain in the arse, but I made it instead of dying in a car crash thanks to you." 

"You already paid me for that," he pointed out. 

"Consider this a completely separate offer. Are you busy tonight?" 

He shrugged. "Difficult to have plans when you don't know how much time people want." 

"How much to get you until tomorrow morning?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "That'd be pretty expensive." 

"I can pay." 

"I'm sure you can, mister twenty-quid-for-a-car-ride." 

"I'm going by Sirius these days." 

"James. You gonna take me to your room, or are we getting started here on the street?" 

"Tempting as that is, the hotel's not very far away." 

A few people they passed gave them strange looks, but Sirius couldn't care less. It hardly mattered that James was dressed like he'd been clubbing and Sirius was in a full suit-- vest, tie, even the bloody jacket on top with the three buttons and perfectly pressed trousers. Maybe Sirius had gotten boring the more adult he became, but he was pretty sure this was about to be the best night he'd had in a bloody long time. 

*

When James woke, Sirius was trailing circles against his shoulder. "Everything alright?" James asked at the concentrated look on his face. 

"I was thinking, if you're not otherwise engaged..." Sirius trailed off, but James wasn't going to make a leap because being wrong would be ridiculously embarrassing for him. "I'm in town for the next two weeks," he continued. "Would you like to keep me company? It would only be nights and the morning after, I'll be working all day." Normally he had Saturday's off for Shabbat-- not that he observed it most of the time-- but since this was a special assignment he'd be working straight through. 

"You sure you can deal with me that long?" James joked. 

"I think the real question is if the money's good enough for you to put up with me for that long." 

"You realise you're not hideously unattractive, right?" 

Sirius snorted. "Right, cause my face is always the problem." 

"Not to make assumptions about your relationships, but it kinda sounds like the people you dated were absolute pricks." 

Sirius shrugged instead of answering because he didn't really want to get into it. Gilderoy had been an arse, Marlene had wanted a casual relationship when he wanted something more committed, and the less said about the shit show with Lucius, the better. He'd been on dates with several other people, but those were his three main relationships and even though Marlene had liked him, it had still ended in a disaster. Maybe this was what he needed, a fun affair with no strings. Sirius had more money than he knew what to do with, and James could probably use it if only to take it easy for a couple weeks while he was here. Or, hell, he could put some aside when business was slow; Sirius didn't really know how all that worked, only that it was too stressful for him as a job. "You can think about it." 

"Don't need to. I'll give you my number and you can ring when you're ready." 

"Sounds good," Sirius said, leaning down from where he was propped up on his elbow to kiss James. 

*

Sirius had texted James, asking him to come by, and he looked at the clock in worry as the phone rang. The hotel gave him two keys so he'd given one to James, which meant that if he needed an extra minute, it was going to look like he called James up just to waste his time. He thought about ignoring the call, but it was Regulus's name and picture showing up on his screen and he couldn't leave him hanging, especially not when Reg was on a bloody different continent. "Hey." 

"Hey so er," Reg said, and he only sounded like this when he was about to say something he thought Sirius would be uncomfortable with. Used to be that he only used that tone when he needed money, but those days were behind them. Nowadays, Reg used that tone when he was asking Sirius to let down his hookup from the night before or to cover for him to their parents. Considering that he was in another country already, both of those options were unlikely. 

"What?" 

Regulus cleared his throat. "I met someone." 

"Congrats?" 

"He's Irish, he was over here for university but he's done now. He's so sodding wonderful, Sirius, he's the perfect boyfriend, I swear." 

"Okay?" None of this information was telling him why Reg was sharing it in the first place. 

What Reg said next was spoken too quickly for him to make it out over the fun. 

"Take a fucking breath and say that slow enough that I can hear you." 

"I want to bring him home with me." 

The world screeched to a halt. "What?" 

"Sirius," Reg said, a distinctly pleading note in his voice, "I love him. He's so great, and he actually likes my music! I know you love me, but you don't give a shite about it. He- he likes me, he actually likes me! Nobody sodding likes me, and he's smart, it's not like he'll be in the way, he just doesn't have a place to stay since he's been over here for four years." 

Sirius rubbed tiredly at his eyes. It had been a pretty long day-- he'd had to fucking fire someone and now everyone else there was acting paranoid as if the bloke hadn't completely deserved it-- and he had been looking forward to unwinding tonight. Not sex or anything, probably, but the company would be nice and James was always so sweet to him that he didn't much care that it was fake-- that was James's job, after all, to be there for him and make him believe it was real. "Reg, how long have you known this guy?" 

"Don't give me that. I know when something's real and when it's not, I'm not a child." 

"Yeah that's great, you're not a kid anymore-- I noticed, funnily enough-- but I also don't want some stranger living in our flat, I don't care how in love with him you think you are, it's bloody stupid." He heard the lock click and the door open, and he turned around, giving James an apologetic smile. He covered the speaker to his phone and whispered, "My brother, I'll only be a minute." 

James nodded, came over to give him a quick kiss, then went back to the door to take off his shoes. 

"Can't you meet him before you make that sort of judgement? When you meet Remus, I swear you'll understand. He's perfectly trustworthy." 

"How the hell do you know if he's trustworthy? You've known him a week." 

"I seem to remember you trying to run off to marry Lucius after you'd been dating a week." 

A familiar feeling of shame crept in, and Sirius started to feel frustrated; Reg wasn't listening to him, he was just trying to piss Sirius off enough that he gave in. It usually worked for him, but Sirius wasn't in the goddamn mood to deal with it right now. "We'd been dating a week, we'd known each other longer than that, and if you recall, it ended terribly." 

"All your relationships end terribly, maybe it's not them that's the problem, maybe it's you. If you don't want him there, fine, I'll move out and you won't have to deal with either of us any more and you can be happy in your stuffy flat with your boring friends after coming home from a job you hate," Regulus spat, then hung up. 

Sirius grit his teeth, pushing down the urge to scream or throw something. He knew that Regulus didn't mean it, he was just in a mood and upset that he'd found someone he thought was perfect for him but Sirius wasn't falling in line with his dream. It happened a few times a year, and after they both calmed down a little, it was fine. Knowing all of this didn't make it any fucking easier to deal with, and his hand tightened around his phone until his knuckles whitened. 

"You okay?" James asked gently. 

"Brilliant," Sirius growled. He threw his phone at the couch and stomped off to the closet. He'd texted James before he changed out of his suit, and now he wanted little more than to rip it apart with his bare hands. Not that he'd be able to even if he tried. So he settled for angrily undressing. 

"You wanna talk about it." 

Sirius huffed out an irritable breath, ready to say no, but he started bitching about Regulus instead. "It's like he's so busy trying to have a romantic, adventurous life that he forgets he can get hurt! Did you know that he moved in with someone that tried to kill him? The fucking arsehole was already hitting him, and he thought it would stop if he committed. Have you ever heard of something so sodding stupid? And now he's picked up someone over in the States where he's fucking around playing with his band-- which he didn't tell me about until he was already gone, by the way-- and he wants to bring some berk back with him to live in our flat! He knows nothing about this guy, but he knows this is how love stories go so he's- fucking going in head first without thinking about it." 

"There's something to be said for romance," James said with a crooked smile, but he dropped the expression after a moment. "Do you know how much he knows about him? Maybe they've been spending every minute together so he knows him pretty well." 

Sirius glared at him. "Are you on his side?" 

"'Course not, I'm on your side because you're the person I know, and it sounds like yes, maybe he's going into this too quickly and he's going to get hurt. But mostly I was trying to offer an explanation that would make him seem less stupid." 

"You don't need to, I already knows he's a fucking idiot," Sirius grumbled, but he was less angry than he'd been twenty seconds ago. 

"Hmm, you say that, but I sense forgiveness in your tone," James said, coming up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Sirius's stomach and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Are you going to call him back and let him know?" 

Sirius leaned into him, starting to relax from the stress of the day. "No. He's already planning to bring him back and so long as I don't kick him out he won't go anywhere." 

James hummed again, a comfortable warmth against him. Sirius was going to miss the hell out of this when he went back to London. "Not to sound too judgmental, but you're not the best at relationships, so you could let him try to enjoy this. Maybe it'll turn out for the best." 

Sirius frowned, the beginnings of relaxation vanishing in an instant. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"Maybe that bloke he found is as perfect as he thinks and they'll get to live happily ever after. Get married and annoy the shite out of you," he said with a chuckle. 

"What do you mean I'm 'not the best at relationships'?" 

"Hm? You said that the other day didn't you?" 

Yeah, but he'd sort of hoped that James wouldn't agree. That somehow, in the week of their acquaintance, James would have gotten a different experience out of what it meant to be dating Sirius Black. He'd been wrong. And that buggering hurt. He took a careful breath in, released it, and accepted that it didn't matter. What he had with James wasn't a romantic relationship and thinking about it that way would only get him hurt. He was starting to catch feelings, but that sort of thing happened, right? Sirius might be a complete dumb arse, but he knew not to think about this as anything other than what it was. That being said, he could use some fucking cuddles right now, and James had that on offer. 

*

Sirius blinked, and it felt like the bottom of the world had been tugged out from under him. "What?" 

"I knew you wouldn't approve, that's why I didn't invite you," Regulus said over the phone. 

Sirius couldn't believe it. He really fucking couldn't. He couldn't even form words. 

"And I know it was rather stupid," Reg continued, "but Sirius, I swear, once you meet Remus you'll understand. He's so wonderful, you'll love him, I know it. There wasn't even a ceremony, you know? We signed a paper in front of the judge with one of those witnesses they offer, and that was it. I did want you there if that helps, I just knew that you'd try to talk me out of it. And- you know, I was thinking, I could get a job between all the band stuff-- it's not like it takes that much time anyways-- and I'll be able to move out soon. Stop bothering you all the time, yeah? I know you don't want me around messing up your flat and using all your money, so this'll get me out of your hair. You'll finally have the space to bring your dates home, listen to your own music, just- I don't know, have your own life without having to take care of me." Regulus stopped talking, clearly waiting for a response. "Sirius? Are you going to say anything? Anything at all?" 

Another long pause. It's not like Sirius wanted to keep him worrying, but his throat worked and nothing came out. Next to him, James stirred awake. He saw Sirius, leaning up, body tensed with his cell against his ear. 

Regulus blew out a breath. "Alright, you need some time to process. That's fair, I've dropped a lot of information on you, you need to think it over. Just- fuck Sirius, don't shut me out. You're still my brother and I love you, I just love Remus too, you know?" More silence. "I'm gonna go. Er. Thanks for listening. I had someone take a picture. I can send it to you or show you when you get back home, if you want. Bye." 

Sirius swallowed thickly, his hand falling in front of him. Reg was leaving. A few days from now, Sirius would go back home and he'd never see James again. He hadn't seen his friends from university in years. Walburga was dead and good fucking riddance, but Orion was still there and Orion didn't give a shit about him as he was, only Sirius as his heir. Regulus had always been there, through all their family bullshit and Sirius's bad mistakes and his university issues. He found someone better to love and now he was leaving, it didn't matter what reassurances he was trying to give Sirius that he still cared, he was leaving and that's all there was to it. 

"You okay?" James mumbled, putting a hand on Sirius's back. 

Normally it was fine. Normally Sirius leaned into the touch and answered him as best he could, but right now wasn't fucking normal and he couldn't deal with this. James's affection was bought and paid for, and that was the only reason he was around. Sirius couldn't keep anyone around. No one cared about him, not really. All his dates, all his friends, the way his own damn father sent him away, he couldn't deal with this. He already had all the cash he owed James out and ready, and usually he gave it to him the morning after when they both got ready to leave. But he didn't want James around because it only reminded him of what he didn't have and that wasn't going to magically get better before he went back home. God even James knew what a disaster he was to date and that's not even what they were doing. A roll of money in hand, he turned back to James, holding it out. "Here. Just- just go, and thanks for your time. I don't need to see you for the rest of the time we agreed." 

James blinked in surprise, looking at the money like he didn't know what it was. "What?" 

"I don't want to kick you out-" but that's exactly what he was going to do "-but please take the money and go." 

"I-" 

"Please." 

James blinked at him some more, then nodded, taking the money from him. It was awkward as he got dressed, and it probably looked real bad for him to run to the loo, but it would've been worse if James had seen him start to cry. He didn't want for Reg to leave and possibly ruin his life if Remus turned out to be any less perfect than Regulus thought he was, he didn't want to kick out James and never see him again, and he didn't want to be doing any of this. 

"Sirius?" James was knocking on the door. "I'll leave if you want, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Bad phone conversation? Everything alright?" A pause, then, "Is it your brother?" 

Sensing that he wasn't going to go away until Sirius answered, he opened the door-- he'd forgotten to check how his face looked before opening it, but it couldn't be good. "I appreciate the thought, I really do, but please just go." 

"Are you okay?" 

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll be fine." No matter what happened, no matter who left him, he'd be fine. He always was. 

"Alright," James said softly. "I guess I'll leave now. I know you won't believe it, but I had a good time with you. Look me up if you're ever in town, yeah?" He sounded hopeful, but he didn't wait for an answer before he left, clearly understanding that Sirius wasn't going to. 

He left and Sirius closed the washroom door again. It felt safer that way. 

When he eventually came out, he saw that James had left his key on the bed's side table. Sirius blew out a breath. That was good; he should have asked for it, but he'd forgotten. James was always so collected, always keeping track of all these details that Sirius forgot about. 

*

Sirius was leaving town, finally. He could get back home, meet Regulus's husband, and get back to reality. Reg might be leaving soon, but his couch would always be there to welcome him home after an exhausting day at work. He folded another tie and piled it on top, taking a quick scan of the room to see if he'd left anything out. He still needed to scan the washroom, but it looked like he had all his clothes gathered up on the bed. 

A knock sounded on the door, and he frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. He walked over and opened the door, his mouth open and ready to tell them that they had the wrong room, but it died in his throat. James. 

James was standing on the other side of the door, glasses-- Sirius had only seen him wear them once, that day he'd driven Sirius to the hotel-- and a sheepish expression on his face. "Hey." 

Sirius blinked, then blinked again. "Did I short change you? Sorry, I didn't mean to," he said, turning around to grab his wallet. 

"No, it's nothing like that," James said, stepping inside. The door swung closed behind him, but he didn't move further into the room. "I'm not here in a professional capacity. I'm here for... me. Y'know, us." 

"O... kay?" Sirius turned back to face him, confused. 

"It's-" James stopped, chewing on his bottom lip. Sirius had never seen him do that before. "It's kinda stupid, because I know you don't believe your brother fell in love with someone in week, so why would you believe I did it?" 

"You're not in love with me," Sirius denied automatically. "You said I was a disaster in relationships." 

"No, I said that's what you said, and that's not the same," James defended, walking closer. "You don't have to like it, but can't you accept that I feel that way about you?" 

If he were a good person, he'd say yes. "No, because you don't." 

James's eyes narrowed, and he started to look annoyed. "Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the arse?" 

"Constantly." 

"Well maybe you should've listened to them a little more. For fuck's sake Sirius, aren't you going to say anything about it?" 

"I did." Did he miss that part? It seemed impossible, because he'd replied, but anything could happen-- except James being in love with him, that didn't make any sense. 

"I-" James started to say, but then he stopped, looking heart-broken. It made Sirius's heart crumple in on itself, and he twitched his nose to ward off the tears that wanted to work their way in. "I guess that's my answer." James looked away, making his way slowly to the door. "Is it too stupid to admit I actually thought you'd feel the same? I don't take risks, not about this and-." He stopped again, shaking his head. He pushed his fingers under his glasses and wiped at his eyes. "Sorry," he said, voice thick. "I'll go. Have a safe trip." 

James put his hand on the doorknob, and all Sirius had to do was keep it in for a few more seconds, that's all he had to do- "Don't," Sirius blurted, and it wasn't loud, but it was enough for James to hear that he'd spoken and he paused, turning his head back around. 

"Did you say something?" 

"Don't go," Sirius said. 

James didn't leave, but he also didn't take his hand away from the door. "Don't mess with me Sirius," he said desperately. "If you want me to stay, I need you to mean it." 

"I mean it." He walked over to him in large stride, then cupped James's face in his hands. "Don't go, stay with me." He leaned in and kissed him. They'd kissed dozens of times. There had been better kisses, better times where they fit together like they'd been made for each other. But James had started crying and Sirius was halfway there as well, and he wasn't used to kissing James with glasses on. It was stuffy, messy, a little pokey, and absolutely perfect. "Kinda wish we'd done this earlier so we could figure it out." 

"Figure what out?" 

"I don't live here; you do." Sirius kissed him again because he didn't want to move away. "Are we texting? Making trips every month? I don't... I don't know." 

"I can move to London." 

"I can't ask you to do that." 

"You're not asking, I'm offering," James said. He leaned against the door, and when Sirius's hands dropped from his face he caught them. "I take care of my great uncle and I've been living with him while I do that, so it won't take much for me to hire someone else for him. I've got clothes and shite, but no furniture, no lease to deal with. 'Course I don't have a place in London so that'll-" 

"You're living with me." 

"I am?" 

"If Reg can bring his fucking husband with him, I can bring you. Er, if you want, that is." 

"Hell yes I want to, but I can't ask you to make room in your flat for me." 

"As someone I know once said, you're not asking, I'm offering." 

James laughed, half pulling Sirius into a hug and half bringing himself away from the door to meet him. "Thanks. And I do love you. That wasn't an exaggeration." 

"I er," Sirius took a deep breath, released it, but couldn't say it back even though he wanted to. "Me too." 

*

Regulus stared at his brother and a stranger comfortably lounging on each other on the couch. "Sirius who the hell is that?" 

"I'm James," the stranger said with a wide smile and a wave. 

"And who's James to you? Sirius?" 

"My sugar baby, now shut it, we're watching the telly." 

James snorted but didn't deny it. 

"How well do you know this guy?" 

"As well as you know Remus," Sirius said, deigning to glance at him with a superior expression thrown in for free, but he turned it into a smile as he looked at Remus. "Hey, how's it going?" 

Remus smiled back and shrugged. "No complaints." 

"That's not fair to bring him into this," Regulus said, but he knew that he wasn't going to win this. Any argument he could make would be just as true for himself, and he didn't want to go that route. 

"If you say so," Sirius said, turning back to the television. 

"Let it go, love," Remus said, putting a hand on Regulus's shoulder. 

"Hmph." Reg started walking to his room, Remus following behind him. He only had a few boxes, but he hadn't bothered to unpack since they were planning on leaving fairly soon. 

"Hey Reg?" Sirius called, not moving from where he had his head pillowed on James's shoulder. 

"Yeah?" 

"Unpack your husband's boxes already, you make it seem like he's homeless." 

Regulus blinked, then huffed out a laugh. "Yeah Sirius, you got it." 

[theangrypokemaniac]

Contests Part 2/2

6. Loser Jessie

Screechy harpie Jessay has even more of a raw deal than Mavis and Dawn of the Dead.

From the outset I knew she'd never be champion, but she ought to rise above the tiresome berks clogging up procedure.

Sufficient popularity at Pokémon Towers ensured the girls were allotted coverage of all their award ceremonies. They had a moment in the sun.

What has Jessie in comparison?

I can't recall Hoenn, but I don't expect it was much.

Sinnoh however carried naught but a single paltry episode.

This for a main character.

This for someone there from the beginning.

This for an ardent fan favourite.

This for a wench who, should we include all her various mutations, has featured in more installments than either of 'em.

But no, treat Jesseee as worthless, even lower than Dawn's groupies. It's not like anyone watches it for her.

Looking back, it's obvious what they were intending to do come Unova.

What's the score then?

• One paltry Contest on screen.

• A couple happen elsewhere, marked by a few seconds per mention when the script oh-so generously moves away from the thrilling main plot.

It's gotta be the small-town concerns for Jessuhleenuh, nothing major. She deserves no better.

• One won by James, so not hers. Press her inadequacy upon us!

• One obtained as a gesture of pity from Kate Middleton.

And how did that work? What's the good of allowing 'Dawn' entry again?

She'd already qualified. If winning here, that gives her six, therefore there aren't enough Co-ordinators for the culmination.

And when Jessie showed up with a Ribbon recorded as belonging to Dawn, how was she taken as fulfilling the quota?

The slapdash way these Contests are run!

God forbid Jess should be shown as excelling at anything. It must be scraping into the final undeservedly.

Bitch gotta know her place.

7. Bumpkin Jessie

...

Ain't no description I can give that don't rhyme with 'hit', or variations of the theme.

You thought the shafting Jessica got coverage wise was bad enough? Yer ain't heard the 'alf of it.

Sinnoh was a period of peak Moron Team Rocket, where the one surprise was how stupid they could be.

You may remember an early episode when James designed her clothes for the catwalk. She thought it'd complement his work by applying lipstick all across her mug.

Obviously Jessie would do that, clueless as to how make-up functions.

Come on kids, she's thick!

Even at that numskull nadir it's difficult to comprehend anyone choosing this get up without severe duress.

Picture the scene: you debut on stage, before an audience of thousands and television cameras, in an event preoccupied with superficiality.

What do you wear?

• Giant, oversized glasses out of fashion since the Seventies.

• Bootlace tie last worn in the nineteenth century Wild West by a barman serving sarsaparillas.

• Colour scheme of brown and orange, the nation's favourite hues.

• A man's old shirt fraying at the cuffs.

• Voluminous apron dress.

• Massive yellow bows last seen decorating an Easter Egg. Always a winner.

• Heavy, clod-hopping boots.

• PIGTAILS!!!

Even the name is unattractive.

Ah yes, very common for those under six. Unheard of later.

You have reached puberty haven't yer Jessie? I can't tell anymore.

They couldn't get enough of that combination in Cosmo, which is why it's no longer in print.

Not only is Jessie denied success, she's deprived of the chance to be pretty in a realm where nothing but that carries weight.

Worse, given how her face disintegrated, this is the best she's been for five generations.

Yeah, because the inbred milkmaid style is such a good look, eh?

SEXAY!!!

8. So Long, Tsundere

Remember tsunderes? What happened to 'em?

The curse of Pokémon was draining the well of inspiration too quickly, throwing away interesting characters as mere guests.

This is particularly noticeable regarding the ladies. Back then, we got Misty, Jessie, Jessibelle, Cassidy, Aya, Giselle, Tyra, Sabrina, assorted crones Brutella, Nastina and Lacy, plus Joy, Jenny and Dame Ketchum provided parental authority.

How did a series that began with ball-breaking birds like that end up with insipid, glassy-eyed dullards like Zuhreena, Banana Lana, Marsh Mallow and Lilliput?

Ooh, Zuhreena is a pwincess!

Ooh, Banana Lana bwows big bwubbles!

Ooh, Marsh Mallow wuvs phallic waddishes!

Ooh, Lilliput won't pwet wanimals bwecause of Secwet Pain!

Can you imagine such weak specimens finding any place in the anarchic atmosphere of the classics?

It's SO boring!

Where's the punch? Where's the human spirit?

Where's the entertainment gone?

This squishy attitude began in Hoenn. Misty left, Jessie's hair symbolically changed from volcanic red to pink, and Contests introduced a cuddly theme where glitter glue and sequins are top priority.

Every sharp corner, every jagged point has been filed smooth. Now its substance hasn't the hardness to even develop edges, not when it's all cushions and candyfloss, where catching Pokémon rests on them deigning to grant permission, rather than 'avin it out.

Tsunderes, exuding untamed charisma and independence, besides a soupçon of danger, simply don't fit the cardboard box we habit now.

Nor do yanderes, kuuderes, tsuntsuns, or even derederes. It's just nothing but smiley-smiley creeps.

I wouldn't mind any of these tropes as long as there was some sign of colour to be had.

9. The Sacrifice of Misty

Misty bid farewell under the feeble justification that the lack of a longterm goal made her vulnerable to sacking.

Such a line uttered as if her own choice, being beyond them as writers to invent a purpose.

This implied her replacement would have an exciting quest aiming for excellence, something just beyond Misty's capabilities.

What did we get?

Dressing up and collecting Ribbons!

Is that...is that it? Is that the great idea? Is that all the girls are worth?

I lost Misty for THIS?!

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

Going by the greasy-toothed bastardisation that swanned up in Alola, Misty was simply too wild for the safe, stifling atmosphere of today.

Her departure ensued she remains frozen as a funny, beloved presence, unlike those she left behind.

Now there was a lucky escape, as once the fanny-flapping starts, the bints have it on the brain.

May had Max to beat on the side, but Dawn developed monomania.

Hardly an episode went by without some reference to Contests, or how today's plot spurred her on to the next opportunity.

Yer need help, love!

Rather than Ash's new friend being a fascinating person who so happened to enter vanity projects, the competition defined them to the exclusion of life.

It is but moths drawn to the candle flame waiting to engulf them.

Contests are this world's version of Tom Riddle's diary: they promise sympathy and validation, but they eat your soul.

Like Tumblr.

10. Completely Unoriginal

Seems to me it wasn't so much Misty had no goal, it was more that Contests were the supposedly hot concept wedged into an existing property.

If earlier aspects failed to accommodate the invader, the onus certainly wasn't on the new kid to change. Oh no, stuff it in and chop off whatever gets in the way.

In the eyes of the post-Shudo regime, Misty was too volatile to last, and so had to go.

What idiots.

She's a tsundere. The softer, more feminine side is a defining component.

Would it really have been so problematic to retain her as an entrant? If Jessie can, why not?

Even if failing to fit, so what? Since when was established characterisation a barrier?

Isn't twisting likeable folk into unrecognisable pods the modus operandi of the writers?

That canon is immaterial, and must always give in to whatever fancy they currently have?

Well then, what's the big deal in infantilising Misty to promote it rather than pensioning her off?

Viewers will be more invested in the challenges awaiting a familiar face rather than a stranger.

What reduces the above to the risible is the original Misty and Jessie both participated in the Princess Festival.

All Contests are is that very scenario on repeat and robbed of all meaning.

Think about it:

• Beauty round

• Battle round

• Jessie loses

Same bloody thing.

Not only have I got to suffer this draining spectacle, it's got the nerve to possess not one iota of fresh ideas!

Contests are a low rent rip-off. The Princess Festival had a worthy reward in the shape of one-of-a-kind Dolls.

It'd already been revealed that ordinary Princess Dolls were ruinously expensive, therefore the special Pokémon edition have to be priceless.

What d'yer get for the trouble of a Contest but a bit of plastic tat taped to bargain basement frippery?

And they demand you get five of 'em!

Contests themselves were then resurrected as Showcases, although mercifully slimmed down to only three, with the emptiness ramped up in compensation.

Perhaps ironically, Princess Versus Princess is one of my favourite episodes. I love its critique of female avarice and accurate portrayal of clothing sales as reminiscent of the zombie apocalypse.

I don't mind the Festival as a single adventure, but I may have felt less favourable had it been a constant presence.

Except it isn't the competition at stake. This is a framework to explore Jessie and Misty as people.

Through its device we learn their history and therefore how they came to develop as the girls we know.

The setting serves as an opportunity for both to confront the misery and isolation of their childhoods, with the promise of overcoming that old torment with the balm of victory.

In the final, they aren't so much battling an opponent as fighting to be free of the past.

The tragedy is only one can be granted that reprieve. The other must remain unhappy in the ruins of memory.

It matters, unlike vapid Contests, where posturing is king. What depth can they provide in comparison?

Despite identical content, they are inverse counterparts, with the Festival presented as merely a light affair concealing a rather dark tale of neglect.

Contests however are paraded as this worthy nourishment for body and mind, a major point in one's journey towards enlightenment, when all they really amount to is an organ grinder and his monkey arsing about for the slack-gobbed plebs.

Bread and circuses.

Best of all, Misty won, not some side twat, as it should be.

Note how Jessie dressed: in delicate, vivid robes and golden decoration. The boys thought her beautiful.

Not as a gormless dweeb you'd cross the street to avoid!

And why the need to disguise herself anyway?

The Twerps had no issue with Jessie of Team Rocket joining the fun back then, so what happened?

At least she received the consolation of gaining Lickitung as a friend, with James and Meowth desperate to comfort her.

What do Contests bring? Sod all!

[fathertaurus]

Kitten (part 1) - ⛈️

JAJDOSJDJSJSNZJD I’m so excited. So, if you don’t know, I originally wrote a sugar daddy! David smut and then a stripper!reader smut. I kept coming up with new ways to keep both stories going, and decided to keep going with the sugar daddy one because that one got more of a response, BUT then an idea for a scene of angst (not in this part) came to me with the reader being his sugar baby and a stripper and I decided to combine the two stories. This is the beginning, it’s very slow, nothing really happens except meeting most of the VS. as always, this is trash but I hope you guys enjoy. also s/o to that one anon that said Kitten as her stripper name cause I fuCKING CHOKED!!

“Babygirl!” Zane calls through your apartment, you hear that door slam close and footsteps coming through towards you’re living room. You pop your head around the corner seeing that Heath is with him too.

“What’s up guys?” you ask. You had given them a key to your apartment for emergencies only, but they never really used it for that.

“Wanna go to a party with us tonight?” asks Heath.

“Ugh guys, I’ve worked all week and was technically supposed to work today-”

“But you aren’t and you’re not staying in! When was the last time you partied?” Zane interrupts.

“Yesterday, when I was working! My feet hurt and I’m tired guys, maybe next time.” you whine. Both boys shake their heads and look at each other and back to you.

“You’re going, that’s final.” says Heath. He turns to your bedroom and walks in Zane following after.

“Hey! What are you doing!?” you yell, shooting up from your spot to follow them through your door.

“Looking for something for you to wear!” Zane says. They go through your clothes deciding some pieces were too revealing or not revealing enough. Heath pulls out a sheer diamond studded top gasping.

“This! You’re wearing this honey!” he shouts.

“Oh my God that would go so good with those thigh high boots I bought last week! Oh and black jeans, I can wear a fur coat, or is that extra- wait I’m not going!” you ramble. They laugh at you and Zane throws a pair of dark black jeans at you.

“Yes you are. Now get ready, we have to be there in an hour.”

You spend the next hour doing your hair and makeup, making sure you looked good, your tiredness faded away and was replaced by excitedness. You didn’t get to go out often, only really partying at the club when you were working, and you were ready to have a night with your friends and meet new people. Zane opens the bathroom door as your finished putting in some diamond studs into your ear piercing.

“I gotta pee babe.” he says and goes to the toilet. “You look good, oh my! Were you being serious about the fur coat?”

You turn back to the mirror making sure you didn’t miss a hair or anything, “I don’t know, it’s my first time meeting your friends. I don’t want to overwhelm them or make them think I’m snobbish.”

“I think you should wear it. It’s apart of your personality, and honestly they’ll probably love it.” he says finishing up and flushing the toilet, he walks to the sink and washes his hands, “Plus, imagine the type of impression you’ll make? Dripping in diamonds and wear a fur coat? A queen.”

You giggle, “Yeah I guess. Black or white?”

“Heath! Black or white coat to go with miss thangs outfit?” Zane yells, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the bathroom.

“White, it’ll give you a sense of purity. And you can yell at someone for stepping on it and make it a bigger deal.” he says. You throw your head back laughing.

“If someone steps on my coat or my shoes I’m fighting, period.” you say still laughing. You go back to your room and grab a long white fur coat from your closet, then reach under your bed for your shoe box. You slide the boots up your thigh, zip the side, repeating the action to the other side, then slip on the coat. Looking on your full length mirror you think you look extra, a diamond studded sheer shirt, white fur coat, thigh highs, and diamond covered jewelry? It’s a little much, but that’s your personality. You go to your dresser sliding on a few rings and a heavy silver necklace with diamonds glittering everywhere and walk back to your living room where Zane and Heath wait.

“Damn bitch! You look like a real rich bitch!” Heath says, making you snort.

“Is the fur real?” he asks.

“God no, I would never.” you place your hand over your heart mocking offensive. He rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

“Okay, let’s go. We’re already running late!” Zane ushers us out of my apartment. We make our way to the garage and hop into Zane’s G-Wagon.

“You gotta let me drive GiGi one day, I kinda want one.” you say.

“Oh for sure, yeah.” he says.

“I thought you wanted a Tesla?” Heath questions.

“Yeah i still do but I want to test drive one first and I don’t know if they allow that at the dealership.”

“One if our friends has a Tesla, we could ask him to let you test it out.” he says.

“You know David isn’t going to let her drive his car, he doesn’t even let us.” Zane says laughing.

“That’s because we’re boys, she’s a pretty girl. He’ll probably let her do whatever she wants just for smiling.” he says while rolling down his window and blowing vape smoke out.

“I’d do a lot more than smile to test out his car.” you say. Zane lets out a loud laugh and Heath starts choking on smoke. You guys start talking about the club and how you’re getting more tips and they talk about vlogging and their friends.

“You should pick up a Vlog camera, y/n. People would probably be interested in the daily life of a LA stripper.” says Zane.

“Oh yeah”, you snort “waking up at 1pm, eating leftovers, showering and then getting all dolled up just to sweat it all off on a pole. Real interesting.”

“Then do beauty videos, show people how to do your dramatic ass looks. You’ll put Jeffree Star and James Charles to shame.” adds Heath.

“You just should put videos up, you have such an amazing personality and people would love you. Hell our fans love when you join coffee talk!” says Zane.

“Maybe, I just don’t know where I’d begin. And then if someone finds out what club I work at then what?”

“It’s not like they could get in, most of them would probably be under age.”

“Exactly, then I’d be considered a bad role model.”

Zane looks back to you through the rearview mirror “Are you ashamed of your job?”

“No, bu-”

“Then who gives a fuck? Do YouTube if you want, we both think you should. We’ll help you pick out equipment and set up and edit. It’ll be a bonding experience!” Heath says, turning in his seat to look back at you. You throw your head back and sigh.

“I’ll think about it.” they cheer from the front and start talking about the best cameras for you to use and you roll your eyes. Minutes later you’re pulling up to a mansion, Zane parks his car on the street lined up with cars. You hop out the backseat, closing the door and straighten out your clothes. You feel the vibrations of the music as you walk around the car standing in between the two.

“Okay, if for any reason you feel uncomfortable and want to go home, tell me and we’ll go home. Don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go anywhere with someone you don’t know. If you feel like someone is getting a little to close just punch them, if you feel like something happened to your drink but you drank it already go to the nearest room and lock yourself in and text us. If you-”

“Jesus Zane! I’m 21, and work at a freaking strip club. I’ll be fine. Since when did you become daddy bear?” you laugh.

“Actually, we prefer brother bears but whatever.” says Heath. You guys start walking towards the house and he holds the door open for you. You’re immediately engulfed in the sound and smell of the party, beer cans and red cups littering the floor and smoke coming from all directions.

“Remember what I said!” Zane leans down and shouts in your ear, you nod your head. You feel Heath’s hand snake into yours and pull you along, reaching back you grab Zane’s and pull him too. Heath’s leading you out the back door to the backyard.

“Carly said they were back here, let’s go find them and introduce you to everyone.” he shouts over the music. You start to get nervous, Zane and Heath were your only real friends in LA, all others were fake or stopped hanging out with you once they found out that you strip, you were scared that their friends weren’t going to like you and that would be it.

“Heath! Zane!” a girl shouts, you look over and see a short girl with short red hair waving you guys over. You guys make you way, the boys hugging her when you reach her.

“Carly! How are you babe?” Zane asks, moving to stand on the side of you.

“I’m good, how about you guys?”

“We’re good. Oh! This is our friend that we’re always talking about, y/n” say Heath.

She smiles at you and opens her arms for a hug you step forward and are engulfed in her embrace. “It’s so good to finally meet you! We were beginning to think you didn’t exist.” she laughs.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” you say.

“Where’s everyone else?” asks Heath.

“Oh, some are sitting over here . Others are walking around filming bits . They can never just relax, always have to have a camera attached to their hand.” she says rolling her eyes. She starts walking back towards a few people sitting on some couches, a boy with blonde hair and a nose piercing and has his arm thrown over a girl with brown hair and a nose piercing. On the opposite couch there’s a boy with dark hair and a girl with blonde hair holding hands. There’s a few other people scattered about that you recognize.

“Alright! Introductions!” shouts Zane. He starts pointing at people and naming them. “Scotty Sire, and Kristen McAtee vlog squads only functioning couple.” he points blonde boy and his girlfriend, you wave and they wave back. “That’s Todd Smith and Corinna Kopf, our very own drama series.” he points to the opposite couch, the guy flips him off and the girl waves at you. “That over there is Erin Gilfoy, her and Carly are best friends. The guy standing next to her is Alex Ernst, you probably know him as the Doritos guy.”

“The one from the vine!?” you ask.

“The one and only.” you throw your head back laughing.

“You’re friends with Doritos guy and didn’t tell me, I would have came sooner.” the rest laugh along with you.

“I don’t know where everyone else is and I’m not chasing them down looking so this is your group for the night. I’m gonna go get a drink, stay here.” Zane says and drags Heath along with him. Kristen pats the open spot next to her.

“Sit here.” she says and moves over to give you more room. You sit and smile at her in thanks.

“So how do you know Zane and Heath?” Todd asks, leaning forward.

“Oh I’m used to live nextdoor to them, one night they were like, insanely drunk, and trying to open my apartment. I was terrified at first and didn’t want to open the door but when Heath started singing some country rap song I dragged them inside and let them sleep in my living room. Been friends ever since.” They all laugh at the story finding it hilarious.

“Yeah, that sounds like them.” he says.

“Are you a YouTuber?” asks Kristen.

“Nope, I’m a stripper.” you say casually. Scott laughs loudly while Todd chokes on his sip of beer.

“I knew you had to be a stripper, that fur coat is beautiful and extra.” says Corinna as she rubs his back trying to calm him down.

“It’s not real fur, is it?” asks Kristen.

“No, it’s not. And thanks, I was going for the extra vibe tonight, hence the whole outfit.” you gesture to your necklace and shirt.

“That’s good, where’d you get it?” asks Corinna.

“This one I believe I got in London from Jakke.”

“You’ve been to London?” Scott asks and you nod. “How was it?”

“Cold and rainy.” you say laughing “but really fun. I would love to go back.” For the next few minutes you sit talking about places you’ve been and where you want to go, you learn that they’re all YouTubers and that Scott makes music and is going on tour soon. Alex and Erin join in the conversation and Zane and Heath come back with bottles of beer and a handle of vodka.

“Let’s get fucking drunk!” they screamed. The next hour and a half is full of conversation and drinking, some people leaving to dance and others coming back after getting footage for their videos. You meet Durte Dom and BigNik,Dom already trying t o make a move on you but you quickly shut him down. You were now sitting down in between Zane and Heath as Zane talks, waving his hands about wildly telling a story. Your head is resting on Heath’s shoulder, and you’re falling asleep when a boy with all black, even a black baseball cap, on and a camera in his hand walks up.

“Heath, can you come film a bit with me really quick?” he asks.

“Uh I don’t know, I think y/n is sleeping on me.” you sit up and shake your head.

“Go ahead I’ll just fall asleep on Zane.” you say.

“Actually, you wanna come film it with us? I need a girl for it.” he asks. You look up at him taking him in, he’s cute, in a dorky way.

“Are you going to pay me?” you ask and Heath chuckles.

The boy looks you up and down and scoffs “I don’t think you need me to pay you, sweetheart.”

“I might not need it, but I want it.” you stare at him and he stares at you, quirking up an eyebrow at the very obvious double meaning. You don’t know where this random burst of confidence came from. Heath clears his throat interrupting the weird staring contest.

“Let’s go so we can get you home baby girl. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink tonight.” Heath reaches for you hand and pulls you up dragging you to the front the house. It takes a few minutes for you guys to understand what to do and then a few takes to get it right. By the time you’re done Zane is walking out calling for you guys to hurry up so you can go.

You turn back to the boy. “Well I hope you got the footage you need.”

“I did, thanks. My name’s David by the way.” he looks down messing with something on the camera.

“My friends call me y/n, but the special ones call me Kitten.” you say, suddenly confident again. His head shoots up and opens his mouth and closes it again thinking of something to say, but you’re already walking away.

“See you around, David.” you call over your shoulder. You get into Zane’s car, him and Heath already inside.

“What did you say to the poor boy?” asks Zane.

“My name. And my other name.” you say looking out the window at the boy still standing dumbfounded. They both start laughing loudly and the car pulls off as you join them.

[thou-crusty-batch-of-nature]

A light in the darkness - Part 2

Pairing Remus x reader Warnings language, cuteness overloaded A/N Thank you @futurewriter2000 for all your help! Here comes part two. I hope you will like it! Feel free to send me feedback and requests! 

GIF NOT MINE

When I arrived in the great hall, everyone was waiting for me. Aza, Lily and Remus were discussing upon a book they've recently read, while Zoe, James, Peter and Sirius were arguing over quidditch. Zoe seemed the most devastated. "Oh, Peter; even they've realised that they are the worst! They've even changed their motto to: "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best!" On the other hand, Ballycastle Bats is the second most successful team in the League's history!" "Slow down, Miss Fruitbat! There will only be one champion! Your team may be the second, but Puddlemere United has twenty-two League wins!" James interrupted. "Yeah, and another two at the Quidditch World Cup!" Sirius added, before turning to me. "Look, the queen has finally decided to come! I was ready to send your servant to escort you!" "You are too kind, but we all know there'll only be one true queen here!" "Yes, a drama queen!" Remus snorted. "I bet the ladies at the palace would kill for your hair, Snuffles!" James said. "Where shall we go?" "I really need to buy some quills, as a very annoying dog decided to destroy all of them!" I announced. "In my defence, the ulm wood is very tasty!" "I need to buy some parchments, we can go together to Scrivenshaft's." Remus said. James rolled his eyes. "Nerds." "Then we will all meet at the Three Broomsticks in an hour, is that okay?" Lily asked. After everyone had agreed, Remus and I headed for the shop. It was a warm late-autumn day. The sun was shining shyly. I was looking at the quills, trying to choose between a white and a black one, when I heard my name being called. "You won't believe what I've found!" "If it's a very interesting book, you can just say!" "Then I guess I'll just leave with the newest AC/DC album, what a cruel life!" "What!?" He was one of the few friends who knew my love for rock. Growing up in the Black family, I hadn't had access to any kind of muggle stuff, but having Zoe as my roommate soon made me love music as much as her. We paid for our stuff, then we walked for a while, letting the scrunching leaves bring back our happiest memories, slowly getting closer. "Did Padfoot really destroy your quills?" "Yeah, and most of my shoes. Once I've found him on my bed, ready to play with my History of Magic essay! After I'd worked 3 hour for that, I was ready to make him a coat!" "He chewed my wand a few times, too." We were walking up the hill. The village was painted in tones of red and orange. "I know. He came running to my room, begging me to let him hide there. I haven't seen him more frightened before." We laughed. "I still don't know how you managed to find the spell for entering the girls' dorms." "A gentleman never tells his secrets." "Come on, I want to take revenge! He destroyed my favourite trainers!" I tried to nudge him gently, but I accidentally tripped over a root and fell on the ground. Remus attempted to catch me, but he was too slow. "Are you okay?" he asked panicked. He took my hands, helping me stand. "Yes, it's just my foot. I think I sprained my ankle, but I can walk-" "Nonsense! There's no way I'm going to let you limp until we get there!" That's how I ended up on Remus' back, my hands around his neck, while he was carrying me through the sleepy village. My chin rested on his light brown curls. In a few minutes, we arrived at the three broomsticks. When he gently put me down, I didn't hesitate to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Thank you so much!"  "Don't mention it, love!" Roses bloomed on his face, looking so stoic against his freckled cheeks. "Well, you two obviously had some fun!" Lily cheered. "Oh, will you shut up already!" We sat down at the corner table. "Where are the rest?" "Sirius and Peter are at Zonko's, and Zoe and Aza went to Honeydukes to 'refill the emergency stash' whatever that means." James said, "Would you like anything to drink? I was ready to go give the order when you came." "A butterbeer." "I want one, too, but I am coming with you." Remus answered. Seeing the boys leave, I turned to Lily. "So, how did your first date go?" "It was amazing, we went to Madam Puddifoot's." she mused, glancing at James. "Didn't you two hate that place?" "I for sure do, but he doesn't have to know that. I had to see if he was willing to do what I wanted, even if it was pure torture for him." "You know he's been at your feet since our second year; why did you bother?" Lily smirked mischievously. "It was hilarious to see him covered in pink confetti and glitter, not to mention the group of first year's who stalked him all the way here."

"Your order, ladies!" Remus said, putting the beverages down. The others came after that, and we spent the rest of the day talking and laughing. Soon the sun was setting and we needed to go back. As I stepped outside, I realised that wearing a shirt wasn't the wisest decision. The wind was blowing violently, but it wasn't the only thing sending shivers through my body. Remus' hand was around my shoulders 'just in case I needed support to step' as he said. However, I almost fell again when he moved it on the small of my back. "Are you alright there, little one?" my brother asked, noticing my behaviour. "Just a bit chilly, that's it!" Remus removed his hand, only to take off his coat and put it over my shoulders. It smelt like his musky cologne. It's strange how cozy and happy I've felt under his touch. I looked in his eyes, smiling sweetly. "Thank you!" "The pleasure is mine!" he answered, taking my hand in his. 'I used to think love was bound by numbers: first kisses, second dances, infinite heartbreaks. I used to think numbers outlasted the love itself, surviving in the dark corners of the demolished heart. I used to think love was heavy and hard. I don’t think those things anymore.' -David Arnold, Kids of Appetite

Time flew by like a petal in the wind. The Christmas break was only a couple of days away. My friends and I hadn't planned anything this year, so we had to go home. The classes have just finished. Aza, Zoe and I decided to celebrate the winter wonderland by going outside. With thick, woollen socks, scarves and beanies, you could say we were ready to move on a glacier. We were just finishing a snowman, when I felt something cold landing on my back. As I turned to see the attacker, another snowball hit my face. "You blithering idiots!" I took the snow out of my now freezing face, turning to the source of the brutal attack. I immediately saw the innocent faces of the marauders. "It was Remus!" Sirius denounced, hands up in surrender. "Y/N I am truly, terribly sorry! Are you hurt?" "You better fucking start running!" "Oh- I get it." With that, he sprinted through the snow, without a destination. Still, I didn't need more than a minute to catch him. I quickly made the biggest snowball I could, from which he dodged easily. However, when he threw his, I was so taken aback that I fell, sprawling over him. "Hi," I whispered innocently, my thighs around his waist. "'Ello, little one! Got yourself cosy here, didn't you?" "I suppose I did, " I said, slowly grazing my fingers over his face and neck, following the pattern of a scar. I let my eyes turn the same greenish colour as his, observing how they dilated. Frozen as in a spell, he didn't see the fist of snow I managed to take and smash in his face. "Oh, you little minx!" That's not fair!" "Only losers say that!" "Fine, I surrender, you've won!" We went to our rooms wet and filled with joy. With the winter outside, we couldn't ignore the summer from our souls. "Are you going to be okay?" Aza asked. "Yes." "You know, if they do anything to you, you can always send me an owl and I'll be ready to beat their ass." Zoe said.

"I will be fine, I'll be with Sirius." We were in our dorm, packing our stuff. It was a rather cloudy night. Snowflakes were peacefully making their way to the ground, turning the world in a enormous chess board. I finished drying and packing my clothes from today's snowball fight. I was exhausted. "I am off to bed!" I announced.

TAGLIST @futurewriter2000  @booksbeforebois  @puppycat714

[lids-flutter-open]

gay goth boy trans ftm4ftm story chapter 4 under cut. 

content warning: f*g used by gays in punk songs/underage substance use

Chapter 4

Goat Mansion already had a lot of people sitting outside when I got there, which was way too early. The sun was still on the edge of the horizon. I parked my car two streets away, since I don’t like being a designated driver for more than my friends. I walked over to the house, approaching from the street side, and saw the gaggle of people from half a block away. They were sitting on the sidewalk and gathered in a little circle near the fence that divides Goat Mansion space from the edge of the public lands by the train tracks. The teenage goth kids were fraternizing with some crust punks and some people who might have been homeless teenagers from the group that lives in the train tunnel downtown. I didn’t recognize anyone, which made sense because OVID was coming from out of town so probably brought out different fans. One of the teenage goth kids had a thing of cheap boxed red wine but had taken the wine bag out of the box and was passing it around to her friends, having everyone chug, shouting BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD. One of the girls with her let the wine overflow her mouth and run down to soak into her black mesh shirt. They were all about my age or a little younger. I thought it looked like fun, but I don’t like drinking, so I didn’t get too close as I made my way around the house to the back. I knew people would be starting a bonfire. 

Bonfires in late summer are hard, because lately there’s been a burn ban for longer and longer into the autumn. This September, there hadn’t been enough rain to totally put everyone in the clear. And nobody wants to start a wildfire. But Goat Mansion has a rock pit that’s pretty big, and it’s easy to put out the fire with sand and water if it gets too much or starts sparking. When I got there, Acorn was piling the logs up and working with a piece of flint to spark it. Xie doesn’t use any gasoline because, again, too much risk for a big burn that gets out of control. 

“Hey,” I said to Acorn. “Seen anyone from Rocketpizza yet?”

Acorn turned. “Oh, hey, James,” xie said. Xie nodded hir head towards the sliding doors at the back of the house. “Just Ian. I think he was with Ken earlier, but Ken said something about 4Lokos and walked to the store and hasn’t come back.”

“Who’s buying Ken 4Lokos? That sounds like a bad start to the night,” I said. “Has anyone here brought up that sober space thing they’re trying at Fleur’s North? Suggested having a sober only show sometimes?”

“No, we’ve always kinda been a party house. Not likely to change. Somewhere needs to be messy. People don’t like it, they move. Why?”

“There’s definitely some visible and intense public underage drinking happening out front right now.”

“Shit,” Acorn said. “Is it those goth kids?” Xie pushed hir hair out of hir eyes. Acorn has really long hair and a beard that increases in both length and glossy volume every time I see hir.  Xie wears mascara to shows. Tonight xie had on a Carly Rae Jepsen shirt and a plaid skirt. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Nobody from Compton, but definitely under eighteen. You want me to go tell them to come back here and be more discreet?”

“Just like, get them some water and tell them to chill. They’re gonna pass out before the show even starts, or start moshing and hurting someone. I hate when there’s too many teens at shows. No offense,” xie added. “I forget you’re a teen because you’re chill.”

“I don’t drink much. If I did I’d probably be rowdier. It is a teen band tonight. Or like, two, actually. With Quince Quest.”

“Maybe I’ll make some food and cultivate a chill pre-show vibe and get some calories in the kids. Some bread. It’s not that I don’t want them to enjoy music.” Acorn prodded the little fire that was starting in the pit. “Just like, read the agreements for the space that we put on all the doors of the space, you know?”

The agreements, for Goat Mansion, on all the doors, were as follows:

NO NAZIS OR RAPISTS.

DO NOT fucking come to a show looking to start a fucking fight. 

NO COPS

Don’t get fucking wasted before 10 PM. 

Don’t touch anyone without asking

NO SMOKING OR DRINKING ON THE STOOP. Come to the backyard.

DO NOT MESS AROUND ON THE STREET! Come to the backyard.

IF YOU MAKE A MESS HELP CLEAN IT.

IF THERE IS NO TOILET PAPER, OR THE TOILET FLOODS, PLEASE YELL FOR ASSISTANCE. DO NOT SNEAK AWAY. 

FOR REAL ABSOLUTELY NO DRINKING OR SMOKING ON STOOP. FOR REAL. THERE IS A BACKYARD.

It was a pretty concise list that covered most things that anyone cared about. And it was pretty easy to follow, though of course I had no way of knowing if any nazis or rapists ignored the first bullet point. 

I went around the corner of the house and into the kitchen. I filled a big old plastic pitcher that seemed relatively clean with tap water and grabbed a sleeve of plastic cups from under the sink. I knew where everything was here, even though I didn’t have any friends who lived here any more except Acorn. Last year I had been the one to clean the kitchen for the first time in a decade and stock it with plastic cups. If you don’t have cups everyone ends up drinking out of the tap like dogs or just getting disgustingly dehydrated. 

“Hey,” I called to the goth kids, stepping out on the front porch, “You all look like you might need some water soon.”

“Thanks,” the mesh shirt girl said. 

“You’re starting early. Can you bring the party around back? We don’t like annoying neighbor people too much. They call the cops sometimes,” I said. “There’s more room back there, too.” I felt okay bossing them because none of the goth kids would have the nerve to question the authority of someone who was wearing safety pin earrings like they were. 

“No problem,” the girl holding the blood bag of wine said. She giggled to her friends, probably about how messy they were being. 

I sat around with the goths by the smoking baby bonfire and smoked a bowl alone before I saw Ian. He was walking quickly around the corner of the house, looking like the human embodiment of that cat meme where the cat is grimacing. I got up and jogged after him. 

“What’s the deal with Ken?” I asked, catching him by the elbow. “Heard he like left and didn’t come back?”

“Don’t fucking ask,” Ian said. He had glitter makeup on, which I thought was cute, if a little 2012. He looked really good. “Ken’s fucking gone as far as I’m concerned. Which is whatever. We knew this day was coming.”

“Wait, Rocketpizza is still performing, right?”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Some kid from Centralia who’s playing drums for Quince Quest is here, she said she’d do drums for me.  We went over the basic stuff with the songs earlier. She can’t be any worse than Ken would be. He was getting plastered at noon when I went over there today. I have no idea where he is.”

“Dude, that fucking sucks,” I said. 

“I mean, you guys were all absolutely correct about him. I’m stressed right now but I’ll be fine.”

“Where’s swimmer boy?”

“We broke up.”

“Shit, dude.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll process with you tomorrow.”

“You need help with merch?”

“Yes, absolutely. Later, though. No point right now. After the show. Right now we’re doing music setup shit since we’re on first.”

“At least you’ll have a crowd.”

“These druggy Seattle kids?” Ian rolled his eyes.

“They’re just drunk. I’m working on hydrating them.”

The sun was going down, and more people were arriving. I put Ian’s merch in a taped up box underneath the table by the door that had been set up to collect people’s pay-what-you-can donations to Goat Mansion. I wanted to talk to him more, but it was clear that wasn’t gonna happen. I sat with the table. Acorn was drawing smiley faces on the hands of people who paid. People who didn’t pay and didn’t get smiley faces wouldn’t get kicked out, but they might get snarked at by someone if they were being obnoxious and they wouldn’t be allowed to drink any house alcohol. Everyone expected the show to start one to three hours after the posted start time, but everyone turned up at the time on the posters anyway to smoke or catch up with people or drop their backpacks and walk eighteen blocks away to the store to buy beer. The sun slanted through the windows like liquid gold and someone put a VHS of Fire Walk With Me on in the living room, where it already smelled like cigarettes. It was all cis men in there, who seemed like they all knew each other and might be shitheads, so I stayed outside once the merch was set up. Everyone in the backyard was vivid shades of gold and pink and brown against the bright green of the trees. The smoke was rising more and more out of the fire pit. That was when I saw the guy from King David’s. Orsino. He was getting out of a pickup truck.

His hair was still fucked up and wispy orange and crackly from bleach, and he had a fucked up little mustache still, but he was wearing a different stupid shirt. This one was black, had a big gray alien head on it, and it said ROSWELL. It was tighter around his chest and stomach and arms than the dolphin shirt had been at the diner. He was wearing ripped up pants that terminated just below his knee. They looked like they’d been chewed by dogs. His calves were thick and covered in dark hair. He had on hiking boots with wool socks. He didn’t see me. As soon as he got out of the car, he turned back and started talking to someone on the driver’s side of the car. He was still somewhere between pretty hot and extremely hot. 

I saw the person get out on the other side of the car and realized that it was Jukebox. Jukebox had a guitar case with them and stuck around for just a second before heading into the garage, where I knew that Ian was setting up. Orsino said something to them and then walked toward the house, lighting a cigarette as he went.

I wondered what Orsino’s personality was like. I didn’t know Orsino at all. But I felt something about him already—something sort of like what Therese feels for Carol when she first sees Carol in The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith or Carol (2015). When her eyes go wide and she knows it doesn’t matter what happens next, because the important thing has already happened. She’s seen her. Or maybe that was dramatic, but like, I was a little stoned. I wondered if I should go say hi. 

“James!” Opal shouted at me from across the yard. 

I looked over to see Opal and Barb and Goober coming towards me, accompanied by a dude I didn’t know. Opal was wheeling their chair over the mangled grass. I hoped that there weren’t any nails around that might puncture the tires.

“Oh hey,” I said, waving. 

“Jamie!” Barb rushed in and gave me a hug. She has pink short hair and lots of sun freckles and deep wrinkles around her eyes. If you ignore her skin, she looks like she’s about sixteen. She’s always sort of manic and I think she’s really smart but you probably have to wait until four in the morning for her to start talking about smart people things. She reminds me of a version of my mom that took up dance and punk music and boxing instead of becoming a teacher. 

“This is Duke,” Opal said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the man. I looked up at him. He didn’t look trans. He had a really curly head of long back hair and a thick beard and a lot of tattoos and smiley eyes. He looked like a biker that a country singer would date.

“Sup,” Duke said. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re meeting everyone tonight,” Goober said, throwing her blond hair over one shoulder. “James works at Compton House too, with the teen council thing.”

“Hey Duke,” I said. “Nice to meet you. You like OVID?” I gave him a man handshake, with a firm grip. He looked like he would respect that.

“Yeah, since they got started I’ve come to almost every show,” Duke said. “Me and Stacey go way back.”

“Barb used to date Stacey, right?” I asked. “Is that how you guys know each other?” I wasn’t going to allude to the fact that Barb and Duke were fucking. 

“Kind of,” Barb said. She sat down on a stump next to me. “I love that we’re all here at this show together. I feel a great kind of continuity.” She grinned up at Duke, who looked at her with the most disgustingly lovey gaze I have ever seen in this world. I looked at Opal, who shrugged. 

“You seen Ian yet?” I asked Opal. 

“No. What’s up?” Opal could tell in my voice that something was wrong. 

“Ken is drunk somewhere and Ian is gonna do the show with a replacement drummer,” I said. 

“What? Who?”

“Some kid from the other band. Quince Quest.”

“The fuck he is. I’m gonna drum for him. I have to join his band,” Opal said. They started rolling their chair backward and pivoting it toward the garage.

“Maybe later,” I said. “Not tonight. He’s stressed. Swimmer boy troubles. Drummer troubles. Too much. He’ll snap at you.”

“I know his songs, dude,” Opal said. “I know he’s stressed, but I can do it better than a quince kid. I’ve been practicing on the drums at Barb’s.” 

“Do you need help getting to the garage?” I asked. There was a lot of gravel between here and there.

“I’m good, dude.” Opal turned away from me, and I felt a little abandoned.

“Do you want backup?”

“Let them go talk to him,” Goober said. “You’ll be all touchy feely and Opal will just boss him. That’s what he needs.”

“You said it,” Opal yelled over their shoulder. 

Duke turned to me. His eyes were irrepressibly crinkly. “So James. Barb talks about you and Opal and Compton House all the time. How long have you been on the Compton House teen council? What do you think of it?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to give this guy too much of a leg up on the competition if he was really applying to be director. “I mean, it’s very important. We did an awareness training for a church two weeks ago about mental health and teens. I feel like I’m connected to local politics and stuff, even if it means I know the dirt about everyone.”

Barb laughed. 

“You remind me of me. I was involved in the first committee for Ladyfest when it happened here in 2000,” Duke said. “I was on security. I sat in on all the meetings for planning.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “Continuity.” 

I looked away from Duke and Barb, hoping they’d see someone they knew and go talk to them. 

***

It was two hours later when word spread slowly through the mass of people that the show was starting. The sun had gone down and I had three mosquito bites, even though it should have been too cold. There was standing water in one of the barrels behind Goat Mansion, and that always meant the mosquitos survived longer here than anywhere. Everyone but me was getting drunk. I hadn’t gotten any closer to Orsino, though he’d caught my eye just before everyone went down to the garage and crowded in through the single side door. I thought I saw him smile, but I could have been wrong. 

The room was dark and ugly and packed. There are lights on the stage and then a tangle of wires near the stage that some fire safety expert was supposed to probably evaluate at some point after the Ghost Ship fire, but I don’t think it ever happened. There’s a lot of random piles of shit near the door that should be a main point of egress, and people sit on it like it’s benches at a ball game. It’s definitely not structurally stable. The lights that shine down on the tiny little stage are beautiful. Tonight there was pink and red gels over them, so it looked like a sex party or a weird pretty Hell. 

Ian was wearing his fishnet arm wraps, a lot of glitter, and Goober’s leather miniskirt that that she’d worn to Pride in June. His wrists were covered in bangles. His chest was bare. His hair was sort of flopping over his face. He was fumbling with a lot of wires onstage. Opal was behind the drums. I hadn’t actually heard Opal play before, since they’d only started after they moved to Barb’s house. I didn’t know if they were good or not, but I guessed that they might be if they were going up. Opal was pretty clear-headed and wouldn’t put themselves on the spot if they thought they’d fail. Devon had on his normal clothes and looked pissed as fuck, but he was tuning his bass just the same. 

“ROCKETPIZZA!!!!!” Barb yelled. Some of the goths yelled too, as did the cis men who had been watching a movie inside. There were suddenly a lot of people around me, and I was worried about my feet getting stepped on by the dudes with the steel toed boots. I’m not dumb enough to wear non-sturdy footwear to a show, but I’m small.

Ian looked into the crowd, squinting. I don’t know if he knows Barb’s voice well enough to recognize a screech. He dropped some wires and stepped to the mic. 

“HEY BITCHES AND BABES AND FAGGOTS,” he yelled into the crowd. His voice got soft on the last word. There was a mix of cheers and uncomfortable muttering. Ian was oblivious to the latter. “HOW ARE YOU DOING?”

Barb and Duke both bellowed at the stage, incoherent jumbled exuberance. Old punks at least know how to bellow. 

“I’LL TELL YOU HOW I’M DOING,” Ian yelled into the mic, which twanged painfully over the speakers. “MY BOYFRIEND AND I JUST BROKE UP AND I LOST MY OLD DRUMMER BECAUSE HE IS A DUMBASS.”

There were some confused boos and apologetic noises, particularly from the goths near the front of the stage. All the teen goths were pretty far gone. I saw one of them swaying in her heels.

“BUT THAT IS OKAY,” Ian continued. “ROCKETPIZZA DIED TONIGHT. I LOOK GREAT. OPAL LOOKS GREAT ON DRUMS. GIVE IT UP FOR OPAL.”

I yelled at the top of my lungs, feeling like it was a kind of weird ecstatic prayer. The guy with a beard next to me moved away from me in surprise.

“WE ARE A NEW GROUP NOW. OUR NAME IS MISS SAN JUAN AND THE DUSTIES. YOU’RE HERE TO WITNESS THE BIRTH OF A GOOFY NEW QUEERCORE BAND. ISN’T THAT EXCITING?”

Ian was good at riling up a crowd. People were getting more interested in this seventeen year old twink yelling at them. 

“ALSO YOU WILL PROBABLY WITNESS THE DEATH OF MY VOCAL CHORDS BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO SCREAM MY GUTS OUT. THIS IS A NEW SONG. IT IS CALLED FOOLSLUT IN RETROGRADE.” Ian shook his head and smiled and blinked in the way that had made me fall sort of in love with him when we were fifteen. 

The drunk baby goths went hog wild, and I screamed at the top of my lungs again and whistled through the gap in my teeth, like my grandmother had taught me to do when I was five.

Then Ian opened his mouth to sing. 

(insert here: a piece of torn notebook paper, with the title: FOOLSLUT IN RETROGRADE LYRICS)

THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA SHAKE ME 

FROM THE POOL OF BLACK INK

ATOP YOUR FIRE ESCAPE

I BREATHE IN THE STINK

OF YOUR SMELLY BALLS

I FEEL NOTHING AT ALL 

THE PLANETS WERE ALIGNED

NOW WE’RE BADLY COMBINED

SOLO QUIERO LLEVAR TUS BRAGAS

SOLO QUIERO TOCAR TU BOCA

SOLO QUIERO TENER TUS LLAGAS

PARA TERMINAR ESTA EPOCA

I’M IN PAIN I’M INSANE

WE ARE SMASHING THE WORLD

I’M IN PAIN I’M INSANE

YOUR DEPRESSED BITCH GIRL

BOY 

SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING

BOY

SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING

FILL MY MIND WITH SMOKE 

SMOKE IT IN YOUR BONG

GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE

SO LONG SO LONG

WE DON’T WANT IT OR NEED IT

I NEED YOU TO BEAT IT

END THE WORLD

END THE WORLD

END THE WORLD

FUCK 

(end paper)

When Ian’s set ended fifteen minutes later, the pit had fully opened up. 

People were swaying and had been punching and pushing into each other. I’d gotten slammed against the wall twice and had been shoved into someone’s armpit four times. Which was like, not normal for an opening band. Usually people just stood awkwardly staring with their PBRs in their hands, rocking a little or jamming their heads if the band was good. But some combination of everyone already being wasted and of Opal’s drumming—which was actually really good—and of Ian jumping fully into the air…everyone got electrified somehow. I felt my B.O swelling up toward the ceiling with everyone else’s and the heat from us all supercharging the air like it was some kind of ancient magically charged sweat house made of old cedar in the deep wilderness of the Russian steppe. Ian’s glitter was dripping down his chest in waves. I felt my own shirt soaking with the sweat. My lungs hurt from yelling, and I was reeling still. I watched Ian turn and unplug his amp and walk offstage just before the crush of bodies trying to get out into the cold air totally obscured my view of him. I tried to keep my head above the crowd, thanking god that I wasn’t super sensitive to noise, smells, or sensory overstimulation.

“That was incredible,” a voice behind me said. I didn’t recognize it. I turned slightly. Jukebox January was behind me, smiling. Their chin hairs were darker than I remembered them.  They were shorter than me. They had smudged pink eyeliner in one long band around their eyes. Their shirt was torn so I could see one of their nipples through the fabric.

“Yeah,” I said. “It got so hot in here so fast. We gotta wait a bit for the air to cool down before yours, huh.”

“That set!” Jukebox exclaimed. “Like, that was phenomenal! So good and raw but also like, they’re real! They’re so good. We gotta get this kid a record deal so fast if he wants to sell out! He’s your friend, right?”

I smiled. I felt so happy for Ian. He loved OVID. Tonight had been hard, but it was going to turn out so good for him.  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m James. We go to school together. I’ve known him a long ass time. He’s so good.”

“What’s going on with the band?” Jukebox asked. Their teeth were all showing in their smile. “Some shuffling stuff? Do you think the current situation will hold together? They literally sounded so so good.”

“I literally don’t even know,” I said. “But he loves you, he loves OVID. Like he and his  followed you to the Gorge this summer and then down to the Bay when you were on tour. You should talk to him.” I was glad I was able to be so chill when my heart was pounding into my ears from the adrenaline. 

“Let’s go,” Jukebox said. “I gotta touch base with my bandmates in a second but I wanna give him props. What’s his full name? Does he go by Miss San Juan? Or she?”

“Ian,” I said. “Ian Arroyo. And he uses he/him, at least for now.”

“Cool. What about you?”

“James,” I said. I led Jukebox out into the yard. The cool night air with the smell of decay and everything hit my skin and my mouth all at the same time. It was a second before I saw Ian over by the truck with Opal in the dark. Opal was smoking, and Ian was moving something in the bed of the truck. I screamed loud and high pitched as we got close so he could hear me. 

“That was incredible, bitch!” 

Ian turned. He smiled weakly. “I’m so so so shaking,” he yelled back. His bare chest was getting goosebumps in the cold. He was so beautiful. 

“Look who I brought,” I yelled, thrusting a thumb back at Jukebox, who lifted a hand in greeting. Ian stood up immediately. He leapt over the side of the truck bed to land on both feet in the gravel in front of us. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” Jukebox said. “That was incredible. I wanted to make sure you knew. I’m Jukebox.”

“I know,” Ian said. “I can’t wait for your set. I’m so so tired but I’m gonna stay here till the end.”

“I literally haven’t ever played drums live before,” Opal said.

“You were great for all that,” Jukebox said.

I turned away from them and turned toward the bonfire. I tried to make out through the dark who was still here that I knew. People were dancing a little near the fire and there was a cluster of lit cigarette ends floating in the shadows just beyond my field of vision.

“Come hang out with me,” Jukebox was saying to Ian. “My friends are over here. My girlfriend Robin was loving your set too, but she has issues with moshing so had to step out when it got intense. Someone threw a bottle and it nearly hit her.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Opal said. 

We moved over toward the patch of the yard where Jukebox’s friends were. I could smell the smoke and the blackberries and the wood and sweat and smoke and I felt like I was still on some kind of crazy high. Orsino was sitting there, like I knew he would be. There was a space next to him on the log he was sitting on. He looked up and smirked at me and I sat down next to him without a second thought.