#// Imagine her as champion; and walks next to her Son; and she just says those words: instant bunch of feelsies ;; v ;;

[angelicxlly]

{ Sett's Mom / Sayuri's Tag Dump: }

• Motherhood is the greatest thing and the hardest thing ;; Sayuri IC • Let me love you a little more before you are not little anymore ;; Sayuri Aesthetics • Mother is a verb; It’s something you do; not just who you are ;; Sayuri Headcanons • No matter how much I say I love you I always love you more than that ;; Sayuri Musings

[morganaspendragonss]

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

or

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

*

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

*

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

*

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

*

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

*

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

*

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

*

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

*

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

*

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

*

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

*

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

[startanewdream]

*Harry looked at his mother."Stay close to me," he said quietly.* Could you write something about Harry having this moment with Lily, but in your world where Jily lives? Perhaps after Dumbledore's death, or at the end of the War, after Voldemort died. I don't know, I feel that Harry would be very attached to his mother in these important moments, and maybe if you want, your world where Jily lives is just perfect <3

Hey! Thank you so much for this prompt @sweeethinny! I love writing Lily and Harry’s moments together and this one is so special in the books!

Now, in the world I imagine, there are actually few moments that Harry needs his mother and she isn’t there. Then I thought about Voldemort’s ressurrection and the duel after, because this version of Priori Incantatem would have no James or Lily appearing. So Harry is alone... and he really needs his mother afterwards.

And then I finally wrote a version of the Third Task through Lily’s eyes, which is pure angst, really, but full of Lily’s mother love.

It’s on AO3 or below:

Their hug is so fleeting that Lily wonders if that moment will haunt her later.

She admonishes herself for ever thinking about that. Nothing will happen; it’s the Third Task and soon, whether Harry wins or not, this damn tournament will be over.

So for now, she hugs Harry but lets him go quickly, knowing he feels embarrassed of being hugged in public, and watches as James slids his hand fondly through Harry’s hair to mess it as much as he can. Harry smiles at them, nervous and a little excited too, and then he leaves them with the other champions.

James squeezes her hand as they sit again at the table, though neither is hungry anymore. In front of them, Hermione gives her a comforting smile, while Ron shakes his head.

‘Wanna bet he will end up winning this thing after all?’, he asks, turning to his brothers. Lily watches as they start betting on how long it will take for Harry to get out of the maze with the Cup in his hand, coins passing through their hands.

Her heart fills with a warm glee. They are betting on Harry. Never against him. 

They walk to the Quidditch Field, James and Ron complaining about the mess they’ve made in the field and discussing how it will be the next season, how much Harry will need to train in the Summer for making up for the year he lost without any match.

‘He caught an egg dragon’, Ginny notes brightly, right next to Hermione. ‘What is a Golden Snitch after that?’

They laugh and Lily lets that sound warm her too; she has been shivering ever since they left the castle, though the summer night is warm. There is just something in the air tonight that makes her feel ill. A calm before the storm, with just the wind announcing the change that will come.

It’s probably just the nervousness. She couldn’t show to Harry, during their free day at Hogwarts, how apprehensive she was, but now her nerves are probably catching on with her. These tasks seemed so dangerous after all, and Harry is still so young…

The air around her is calmer than in the other tasks, however. People are talking excitedly, everyone wondering who will be the champion; now and then, even amongst students of other schools, she hears Harry’s name. He was the underdog, but now he is a favourite - not because of being the Boy-Who-Lived, but because of his achievements so far. First with that dragon, with the way Harry had flown nearly perfect, acting smart and dancing around it, much better than his parents’ original suggestion of attacking it in the eye; and then, during that boring Second Task, when it was announced that Harry had taken longer only because he was worried about all other hostages, not just his.

Lily had been worried with his delay, but she had no heart to chide him later. He was never in danger after all, and Harry was just being his usual selfless; he always had a tendency to defend others. Lily could not complain about her son being a fair player.

‘He will be okay’, James whispers to her as they take their places at the stands, and Lily forces herself to smile. 

The sound of the whistle, marking the beginning of the Third Task, makes her jump, but with all the noise and confusion around her, no one seems to notice it. That’s better. She doesn’t need to infect her worries with others.

There doesn’t seem to be anything for her to worry, though. The first hour passes quickly. They can’t see anything inside the maze, but Bagman provides a few commentaries about what the champions have just faced - a boggart, an acromantula, a hole in the ground, blast-ended skrewts (though Lily is not sure she knows that), a disorientation fog, riddles, giant snakes.

And then it’s announced that the Beauxbatons champion is out. Lily remembers seeing that beautiful girl and wonders what happened to her, feels sorry she had to leave.

Ten minutes later, when Bagman announces the Durmstrang champion has left too, the crowd explodes in glee and noises around her. Now it’s only Harry and the Diggory boy on the run, which means a Hogwarts’ win in any case.

And now, for the first time, so close to the end, Lily really wonders how it would be if Harry really wins the tournament, instead of just surviving it. She can see the way he would beam, surprised and proud, how he would raise the cup and people would cheer around him; how Harry would be really happy because he won on his merits, and not because of something he did when he was one-year-old. That would be Harry’s victory, only his.

James will make sure to keep the cup in the middle of their living room; he will tell everyone how his son just won the Triwizard Tournament (‘and all the other champions were already of age, but Harry did not let that scare him, he fought bravely and won all the tasks! My son! Triwizard Champion!’).

And Lily can’t help but think that it’s her son, the son of a muggleborn witch, who will win the most traditional tournament, and what this means to her and other people like her. Oh, she will not mind gloating about this for once.

But the minutes go on, and there are no more announcements, Bagman’s voice silent and the excitement from the crowd is turning into whispers, questions, worries.

There is something wrong, Lily thinks, and she doesn’t need to say out loud because now not even James is frowning, quiet.

There is a commotion in the field, a bright colourful light that lasts for a second (‘Was that a portkey?’, James asks, confused), then she watches Dumbledore and the Minister rushing forward, but she can’t really see anything else. Then the whispers begin, those same words repeated in a crescendo as more people know about it and pass it on, a deadly song.

‘He is dead. Dead!’

She holds James’ hand as not to fall now. Everything is dark around her, and Lily is in a nightmare she can’t wake up, thinking of that last fleeting hug she gave on Harry; she should have hugged him more, refusing to let him leave the safety of her arms for the unknown. Why did she let him go? She feels the fire of the dragon burning her skin alive, the coldness of the deep of the lake and the still air of the maze that Harry entered to never come out -

‘Cedric Diggory! Dead!’

And it’s the first breath of air as she leaves that horrible nightmare, a relief beyond words, a lightness that comes to her as Lily understands it is not Harry that died…

Then it is guilt, a horrible feeling of being the worst person on the planet, because how can she be happy that someone else is dead? How can she actually smile when another parent will mourn their child today?

But there is no easy answer, no trying to understand what happened, just a primal urge to get to Harry and to make sure her son is safe.

She will worry about everything else later.

________________

‘Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything’. Dumbledore is saying, looking at them all, and Lily knows what he will ask even before he says it.

She glances at Harry instead.

His face is pale, his eyes more troubled than a fourteen-year-old should have the right to be, and yet she can see he is watching everything with attention. He is trying to understand what is happening right now, as if witnessing Voldemort’s return and the crazy lunatics of that fake Mad-Eye Moody was not enough.

He needs to sleep - a dreamless sleep so he can begin to recover, as hard as that it will be.

Dumbledore turns first to Snape, asking him to do something if he is ready, and from the corner of her eyes Lily sees Snape’s eyes flickering briefly in her direction. She pretends not to have noticed it, as she has done every time they happened to meet before - it is easy because most of the time Snape doesn’t even seem to be able to look at her. And tonight she has more pressing things in her mind than an old friendship.

She knows Dumbledore will turn to her and James as soon as Snape leaves the room.

And he does, asking for their help to gather the old gang. The Order of the Phoenix.

Lily thinks of everyone that won’t be there for this second time and tries not to let this crush her heart. She doesn’t have time for old grieves today either. Harry needs her.

And, by God, how he needs. She sees the bandages in his arm, in his head; there are dark spots under his eyes, giving him a spooky look - he slept so little before he was awakened with the cries in the hall. And now the world he knows is falling around him, even if he doesn’t understand the full extension yet…

Everything will change now.

‘I will go’, James says softly, and Lily sees him watching her and Harry. James looks somber, much more than she has seen him in the last thirteen years, with that expression she didn’t really miss: the face of a soldier that was getting in a war he didn’t want to, but he would because he believed in everything he was fighting for.

She doesn’t want him to go, but someone has to, Lily knows. It is very important that people know the truth before it can be muffled, and they need to be ready. They need as much advantage as they can get.

Still, the idea of being away from James right now hurts her almost physically, an old familiar feeling of the unknowns that a war brings.

‘But… Dad…’, Harry’s voice is weak, but it is his tone that scares Lily. Harry sounds afraid for the first time that night - as if he too understands the possibility that James will walk off the door and not return.

She thinks of Cedric Diggory. His parents watched him enter a maze and he never returned. She can’t promise safety for Harry, not anymore; his trust in it has been broken forever.

He has faced death now.

‘I will be back before you awake, Harry’, James says soothingly, patting Harry’s feet over the blanket. ‘Right now I must do what I can, okay?’

Harry doesn’t look like he agrees, but he whispers: ‘Okay’.

James glances back at Lily. In those few seconds, she can read the fear in his eyes, not for himself, but for them; being away from his family at this moment doesn’t feel right for him either. But there is a fierce resolution in his eyes too, a notion of duty that James Potter will do everything he can for them, and Lily answers with a soft kiss on his lips.

Come back for us, is what she says in that kiss. If you want to do something for us, then come back.

‘I love you’, James whispers quietly, only for her, and she hears his promise of return in his voice.

And then he is gone.

She turns to Harry, sitting at the edge of his bed. Dumbledore tells him he will talk to the Diggorys and Lily closes her eyes as he leaves, fighting back a will to cry. It is the easiest thing to imagine what the Diggorys are going through and that scares her a lot.

Oh, God, Lily thinks to herself. Voldemort has returned only for a couple of hours now, the war has not even really begun, and she is fearful of everything already.

But she puts on her brave face. Later, when she is alone (or rather with James, his arms around her, preferably in the bedroom of the house they built together), she will let her feelings flow. Now, she needs to be there for Harry.

Lily opens her eyes, looking around. Ron and Hermione are staring at Harry, biting their lips as if they are on the edge of speech, but Harry’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling and nobody talks for a while.

She grabs the bottle of potion in the bedside cabinet, brushing the sack of gold as she does it. The sack falls in the ground, the sounds of metal coins echoing in the room. Harry winces as if that pains him.

‘You need to take your potion, Harry’, Lily tells him kindly, picking up the sack on the floor.

‘I don’t want it’, Harry murmurs. ‘The gold, I mean, I shouldn’t have won it. Ced… Cedric should have it’.

Lily tries to stop her hand from shaking as she uncorks the bottle of potion. It doesn’t work, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice as he holds the potion she gives him.

His brows are furrowed as if he is trying very hard to control himself. 

‘It wasn’t your fault, Harry’, she tells him, knowing she will have to repeat it a thousand times until he believes it.

‘It is’, he argues emotionless. ‘I told him to come with me. He was… the spare’.

Lily doesn’t know what he means by that, but she can’t ask right now. Harry is breathing through his mouth now, his lips trembling and he absolutely refuses to look at anyone. She knows his expression.

It’s the same on her face when she can’t cry at the moment.

Harry doesn’t want an audience. He was never one to feel comfortable with his emotions in public.

‘Drink your potion’, she orders gently, trying to force him to lie down, though he remains sitted. ‘We will let you rest -’

‘No’, he cuts her off, taking her hand in his. Harry looks around briefly, his head down as if he doesn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes, and then he whispers: ‘Stay... stay close to me’.

It’s the way Harry says it that breaks her. His voice is guilty as if he doesn’t want to be this weak, this dependant, the words seemingly escaping his mouth against his will. He is pleading to her, asking for comfort as he did when he was three-year-old and the thunder scared him and he was ashamed of it; Lily remembers him refusing James’ company, asking specifically for hers instead.

It is a son’s plea for his mother.

‘I’m always with you, Harry’, she promises him, bending down and placing her arms around her. She thinks Harry should hate her, because she feels a liar - she wasn’t there for her son tonight. Harry faced everything alone, as brave as he could, but all by himself, him against Voldemort, no lingering ghost of his parents to support him.

And yet Harry doesn’t yell, doesn’t accuse her of anything. He accepts her, raising his arms to hug her too almost desperately, and Lily hears him sobbing. It is a cry of misery, a cry that speaks how tired her teenage son is and how sorrowful he is for everything that happened, even when it is not his fault.

‘I’m here’, she tells him softly, caressing his hair, urging him to feel he is loved and protected by his mother.

There is a loud noise and they break apart. Harry’s face is drenched with tears and, as Lily blinks hers away, she realizes she was crying too. She dries them away quickly, before quietly wiping Harry’s face too. He is refusing to meet her eyes now, looking embarrassed and so young.

She kisses his forehead tenderly.

'Sleep, Harry', she whispers.

Harry takes the potion, drinking it in one gulp, and then his head is falling heavily on the pillow. Lily arranges his hair, then smoothes his blanket. Now, at least, in a dreamless sleep, Harry looks calmer, more like the fourteen-year-old boy he should be and yet never will.

She sits back on the chair, in a quiet vigil, waiting for James to return so they can be there, together, for when Harry wakes up.

[hollenka99]

A Mislabeled Hourglass

Summary: Fundy grows up faster than Wilbur was expecting but he is going to make the most of his son’s shorter childhood regardless.

Warnings: Mentions of hunting animals, implied character death

Wilbur is no stranger to growing up faster than most. In the midst of learning survival skills as a child, he was still able to play to his heart's content. His mum, and later Phil, never cared too much if he got dirty. Kids will be kids. Despite that, his first experience with grief is at 6, he causes an animal's death sooner than most would and he dies himself for the first time at the age of only 9 (stupid accident, he should have watched his step). He is perhaps 8 when Phil gives him his first taste of independence. At 11, Tommy enters their life and makes him a big brother. Phil's day trips gradually get more frequent, sometimes stretching out for longer durations too. Whenever it's just him and Tommy, he has to be responsible, has to play a more adult role despite being in his early teens when it becomes a noticeable habit. Then Technoblade shows up. You could argue that from around 17 or 18, Wilbur is practically becomes a young carer on a full time basis. However, this accelerated maturation was all mental. The earth had gone around the sun once when he spoke his first word, five times when he began deciphering sequences of letters as words, ten times when Phil told him what to expect over the next several years and it had completed its 19th revolution shortly before Fundy came into the world. Fundy was... different. First of all, he was a shapeshifter so right off the bat, he was never going to look fully human. Sally had fins and naturally red hair. Fundy was born with a substantial amount of ginger hair and ears that seemed slightly more pointed than they should be. When his son gets older, it will become apparent that his senses are stronger than Wilbur's too. Speaking of Fundy getting older... Wilbur has a hunch that something isn't quite right when his baby rapidly outgrows clothes meant for his age group. He initially dismisses it as Fundy likely inheriting his ridiculously tall genes. Because what else could it be, right? Then he is crawling at 2 months old. Wilbur's far from a baby expert but he's sure infants don't become that mobile that soon. A month or so later, Fundy takes his first clumsy steps towards him. Now that? Yeah, that undoubtedly raises alarm bells. He knows for a fact that that milestone was for those around 12 months old. Okay yep, something was definitely up. The books say Fundy should have been introduced to solid foods by now. He guesses that puts him in the Bad Dad category, along with temporarily using cows to feed him when he first got Fundy. He'd defend himself by pointing out he didn't have formula on hand the moment he became a father and was yet to learn non-human milk wasn't actually good for the baby but those excuses don't seem credible. He knows he's been going about this blinder than he would liked since day 1 but the accelerated aging might end up screwing him over even more. Ha, imagine having time to settle into parenting a baby before they graduate into toddlerhood. It's fine, he swears it's fine. It just means he gets to start having comprehensible, reciprocated conversations sooner than most, not to mention going through less nappies. There are stumbles for the first week or two after Fundy learns to walk but his son soon gets the hang of it. Only days after his first steps comes his first word. Noisy pattering paired with cries of "Daddy!" get more common. He could certainly get used to this. A one year old's way of running is potentially one of the silliest things he's ever witnessed. But look at his little champion go! When Fundy learns to crouch, Wilbur is crouching right beside him. Tommy comments that he looks and sounds like an idiot whenever he plays with Fundy. Wilbur pays him no heed because his brother is an absolute hypocrite. He has to say, Tommy is doing a great job for someone who was thrown in at the deep end just as much as he was and his brother doesn't even have the responsibility of having to care for a kid. He's always been a bit... rough and ready when it comes to playing with others. But with Fundy, he makes sure to be gentle around the toddler. Wilbur isn't entirely sure whether hanging upside down from someone's grip on a near daily basis is healthy for a little kid but Fundy's eruption of giggles each time suggest otherwise. When Tommy turned 11, he was not yet an uncle. The following April, he has a two year old nephew who complains he wants to help blow out the candles, nearly fighting for his right to do it instead of the actual birthday boy. It somehow leads to a pillow fight between them. So all in all, Tommy is taking it in his stride. By Fundy's second Christmas, Wilbur is able to start calculating. A 14 month old kid is supposed to be getting the hang of being bipedal, not receiving books that will help them learn how to read. Given that his son was walking at 3 months old, his best guess is that Fundy's development rate was four times that of other children. It seems consistent too since Fundy is approximately the equivalent of a 4 or 5 year old boy now. He recalls Sally once joking about how shapeshifters tended to live fast and die 'young'. He thinks he gets what she means now. Quadruple speed for Fundy though? Fuck. If he's got the maths right, they will be the same physical age when Wilbur is 25. The gap will only grow more and more from then on. At 30, he will have a child who is roughly 40. And when Wilbur himself is 40... he'd rather not dwell on the heartache his early 40s are set to bring. He has been given a 60 second hourglass that's been labelled as a 4 minute one. He's begun to comprehend this with 2 seconds' worth of sand already piling at the bottom. What is he even supposed to do? Does he bake a birthday cake every January, April, July and October 10th or just that last date? He guesses that will be for Fundy to decide in the future. Tommy has made a 'reverse leap day kid' joke before but it really is based in truth. While still a small child, one of Fundy's favourite places to rest is against his father's chest. There have been plenty of nights where the little boy has fallen asleep in his father's arms while being read a story. He's rapidly getting bigger and Wilbur frequently has to adapt how he holds him to accommodate. In the quietest of moments, his eyes will notice a tiny mischievous smile directed at him that will make his day or his ears will catch the softest of snores coming from beside him. As much as he tries to enjoy those occasions, peace often leads to a chance for overthinking to take place. When that happens, it all turns bittersweet with the desperate wish he could get several years of this, not feel lucky if he gets more than 2 or 3 of them. Of course, every time Fundy is resting against his chest is not necessarily positive. There are obviously the typical 'toddler having a breakdown because they scraped their knee' type stuff. Those are fine, all he has to do is soothe him and distract from what is usually an overthought 'injury'. But then there are the times where Fundy's fingers ache from the ordeal of slowly developing claws, Wilbur lets him dig his nails into his jumpers as hard as he feels the need to. The same happens whenever there is any significant growth with his ears too. The older Fundy gets, the more used to the flat of a small head pressing into his chest he becomes. He would do anything to alleviate his pain and discomfort if he could. And no, he definitely hasn't shed a tear or two when nobody is watching in regards to the matter. From here on in, it feels like he's on home soil. He's helped raise a kid from the age of 4 before. The only difference now is that this kid is his own flesh and blood. And a shapeshifter, which Tommy never was. They've begun entering the "Dad, look what I can do!" phase of Fundy's life, now that he is getting more capable with age. The first major instance is when he comes home from a hunt. Tommy has a smug look on his face and Fundy seems seconds from exploding with excitement. His son is let loose on him as soon as he's freshened up, dragging him to a chair where he is made to listen to the most drawn out reading session he has ever experienced. But Wilbur can't help but beam every time Fundy successfully gets through a word. The day he believes Fundy is old enough to start learn how to use a bow can't come soon enough. He knows fuck all about hybrids or shapeshifters other than the very basics. He can't tell you how to construct the most impressive of architectural structures. But this, archery and hunting? Now that he can impart wisdom on. He passes down second hand stories about Fundy's grandma and anecdotes about his trips with Phil when he was a young boy himself. As far as he can tell, Fundy laps it all up. Swordplay is soon added to the mix of training activities. The wooden sword he crafted for his son is slightly too big but eh, the kid will quickly grow into (then inevitably out of) it sooner than later. They gradually work up from technique and stance to improving accuracy and striking moving targets. Every bit of progress he makes, his dad is there cheering him on. Fundy only grows reluctant when it begins to get 'real'. That is to say, when Wilbur tries to take him on an actual hunt or attempts to introduce him to the subject of turning a kill into a meal. And yeah, he gets it. He wasn't the biggest fan of it either when he was being taught himself. Plus, he's aware Fundy's nose is more sensitive than his or Tommy's so yep, preparing a body's going to be even less pleasant for him. It's unfortunately a part of this sort of life. There's... well, there's always the option of heading down to the butcher's in town. Just keep in mind who got his first girlfriend indirectly due to the fact her dad would always give him money for helping supply produce. You've been doing great though. The important part is you're learning how to survive on your own if need be, not to mention how to defend yourself in case of an attack. Another part of Fundy's development to make him gush with pride is when he starts to really hone his shapeshifter nature. It's small at first, a furrier hand transforming into a paw here, a lump of a half formed tail spotted underneath a dressing gown there. He can't really describe how happy it makes him to see a child with a fox's head greet him one morning when Fundy jumps out from behind a door. There are features the young shapeshifter will keep in his human form obviously. Yet it's thrilling to have him keep coming over to show off a new shifting-related ability. The first time Fundy manages to morph fully into a fox, during the spring after his 2nd birthday, Wilbur promises the three of them can have an 'anything Fundy says, goes' type thing the following day in celebration. There are times where Fundy may, for instance, forget to include his tail as an animal or he'll walk around as his usual self, albeit with accidental fox eyes. It's simply a matter of practise, Wilbur believes. One of the best parts of Fundy gradually improving his shapeshifting is the fact he loves to curl up on his dad's lap while in fox form. Wilbur cherishes it. Fundy's getting older now (taller too, this kid is undoubtedly going to be at least 6 foot one day) but he'll always be smaller as a fox than as a human. Forgive a father with limited time to enjoy carrying his son around for wanting to prolong the inevitable. Fundy is 3 when he physically catches up with Tommy, age wise. It's not until he is the equivalent of maybe 15 that he passes his uncle's height. Tommy complains about it incessantly, especially whenever Fundy teases him about how much taller he's getting. It's all fun and games but Wilbur was an unusually large teenager once (only a few years ago really, though let's not dwell on that) so he understands what it's like. Going through growth spurts is hardly the most enjoyable thing out there and he can't imagine how it must feel to keep getting hit by them with even less time to settle into your new height. Not to mention growing pains. During a quiet evening, he checks in on his son and approaches the subject. It leads to him allowing Fundy to rant about the worst parts of growing up. Orange fur recedes on his arms to show a few stretch marks. Ah, he was wondering if the extra hair was deliberate or simply puberty taking hold. He assures Fundy stretch marks aren't something to be ashamed of. He got a bunch of them himself at his age. Although, they've pretty much all faded by now. It's fine, you don't need to stress about it. Besides, Tommy's going through the same kind of shit. The main problem with Fundy and Tommy being similar ages now is that they are arguably closer than ever. Which, no, isn't a bad thing. In fact, he's glad that for a few months they're able to hang out on more equal footing. The issue lies in the fact that Fundy takes after his uncle when it comes to causing mischief. The little rascal is turning into a bit of a prankster. And yeah, maybe Wilbur himself likes channelling hints of chaos into his life but you'll never hear the designated responsible adult admit to that in the others' presence. At one point, Fundy is a six year old gleefully explaining how Tommy helped him up so he could place that water bucket. Only a year later, there's an 11 year old revealing that yes, he was the one to make their chickens, cows and sheep switch enclosures during the night. He only gets more ambitious from there. God knows where he got all that dye from when he's in his mid-teens. Fundy is much like himself as a teenager. Both clearly love their respective fathers but both grow to varying degrees of resentment regarding the level of independence they are given. Wilbur always had too much. It was his job to take care of Tommy whenever Phil left on short trips until the avian hybrid pretty much said 'well, you're an adult now, you can take care of things all by yourself' before heading off with Technoblade for months on end. It's why Wilbur knows kids want a safety net, for an adult to be there to help them out if they need it (no matter how mature or independent they feel). Has he taken it further than he should have? Maybe. Fundy is the only one who can be the true judge of that. He just wants his little boy to be safe and happy. He didn't want him to grow up so quickly. However, even if this was happening in 15 years, he would have grown up too soon. It doesn't surprise him too much when Tommy and Fundy make the choice to go off on their own. He only allows it because they promise they will stick together throughout the journey. He supposes it was time. Phil snuck off to do the same around their age and his mum was roughly 18 when she set off to be a nomadic traveller. The thought to live a similar style life has crossed Wilbur's mind. His duty to the two boys under his care has always made him reconsider. But Tommy is 16 now and not as much of a child as Wilbur likes to say he is. As for Fundy, he's probably around the equivalent of 18 or 19 by this point. He hates to admit it but they've both grown up. Where the hell did the time go? So although it pains him to do so, he nevertheless sends them off with a smile. If they find anywhere nice in their adventures, they'll be sure to tell him. He might even join them if they choose to stick around in one area. He turns back into the house after they leave and fuck, has it always been this empty? He gets a letter in early July, telling him all about this place called the Dream SMP and their time there. He arrives and things seem to snowball as soon as he begins the 'drug business' bullshit. Suddenly, he's a general with his brother and son as soldiers, along with some new friends. They are at a disadvantage in this fight against tyranny but it's okay, Eret says she has a secret weapon. They might just pull through. Or... they might instead be brutally betrayed by a former friend and lose so much more than their possessions. He loses track of his battalion in the chaos. All he knows is screaming for everyone to flee. Then the agony a sword through his stomach. Tubbo's dead, as is Tommy. Where's Fundy? He can't see him anywhere. God, please say he managed to get the fuck out of here. Please let it be that he turned into a fox and scarpered away, something like that. Never mind his dad. If Fundy's alright, he'll be alright too. He loves his son, has done all he was able to ensure his little boy has never had reason to doubt this fact. Over the past few years, that love has been repaid in mischievous grins, unrestrained giggles and drowsy cuddles, among other quieter moments. It gets repaid once again as a boy playing a soldier struggles to join the side of his pretend general of a father in order to loosely grasp hands. It barely registers. Neither does the tiny pained smile or ginger hair that go largely missed by eyes preoccupied with the vain effort to keep them open. They all celebrate the independence they'd fought so hard for the next night. The bittersweet nature of this victory goes ignored. With all the cheerful chatter and singing declaring their land to be one of freedom from tyranny drifting in the evening air from the campfire, it feels like the good mood will never end. It feels like the only thing that may tear the father and son apart is Wilbur's desperation for just a bit more time with Fundy as his little boy, despite how painfully obvious he was already grown up into a man in less than 5 years. Arm slung around him as a toast is made, they are not yet a debilitatingly stressed president, increasingly suicidal exilee or secretly loyal spy. For tonight, they are still a relatively happy, loving pair. For tonight, there is hypothetically still so much time for them to stay like that.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Aight hear me out: 27) a kiss on the elbow. But for the dad!witchers with their kiddos? Like they're learning to walk or goofing off or learning to ride a horse and fall off? And it's dad to the rescue to make them feel better? or just Geralt if all three are too much for a drabble? You give us so much wholesome goodness in the dad!Witcher au and I just LOVE it. 💖💖

BABE you’re brilliant

Send in an ask with a number from this kiss prompt list!

Lambert 

“Daddy! Look!” Eva giggled excitedly. 

She was just learning to ride a horse on her own and you couldn’t be more proud of her. She was a quick learner, which was good because she had her father’s patience. 

“Good job, love!” You cheered from outside of the fence, clapping your hands softly. 

“Keep focused on where you want to go, Eva.” Lambert coached. He stood inside the fence but next to you, leaning against the wood. “And keep those shoulders back.”

“I’ve got it handled, daddy.” Eva rolled her eyes. 

“You’re slouching, kid. Sit up straighter.”

“Lambert, give her a break.” You placed your hand on his arm. “She’s doing well.”

“If she doesn’t learn the correct way now, she’ll learn the wrong way. My girl’s not gonna be one of those shitty riders.”

You smiled a little at him but shook your head. 

You weren’t too sure what happened while your focus was on your husband. One second, Eva was doing fine as she moved around the opposite side of the enclosure. The next, there was a shrill scream and a cry.

Lambert was sprinting across the enclosure to Eva, who was now on the ground. She sat up and clutched her elbow, crying out in pain.

You didn’t bother to go around and open the gate. You jumped the fence and raced to her side. 

“Is she okay?” You asked, kneeling down on the other side of your daughter.

Lambert was on the side of the elbow she was holding. 

“It hurts!” Tears trailed down her cheeks. 

“You didn’t break it, sweetheart.” Lambert assured her, rubbing her back. He hadn’t heard anything crack when she landed. His brows were drawn together in concern and fear even though he knew she was okay.

“But it hurts, daddy!”

“I’m sure it does, love, but you just jammed it really good.” Lambert brought her arm up and kissed her elbow. “There. Is that better?”

“No!” She leaned towards him, stuffing her face into his chest.

You rubbed her leg before looking back to the horse that had thrown her off. 

“Get her into the house.” You told Lambert, standing to your feet. “I’ll put Champion in the barn.”

Lambert nodded his head and easily picked the eight year old up. 

“You did good.” He quietly told her. “Even the best get thrown off sometimes. You should see how much Champ throws me.”

“That’s cause you deserve it, daddy.” Eva giggled. 

“Don’t make me drop you, kid.”

Geralt

“Geralt!” You called his name from the house, your tone frantic.

The witcher was crossing the yard in a matter of seconds, reaching the door just moments after you disappeared back into the house.

His heart raced and worry filled his blood. Had something happened to his son?

“Y/N! What-,”

“Shh!” You quickly hushed him, holding your hand up in his direction. Then you pointed across the room to Bram. 

The nine month old was holding on to a stool for support, looking around the room curiously. He had started to pull himself to his feet a while ago, but he had yet to try to walk. 

Bram’s eyes landed on Geralt and he giggled. 

The witcher smiled, a warmth spreading through his chest, and moved closer to his son. He knelt down a few feet away and motioned for Bram to come to him.

Bram cooed and then squealed, reaching one arm out for Geralt.

“Come on, love.” He gently encouraged, heart beating quick with excitement. 

Bram took a few steps around the stool and looked back to what he leaned against for support. He babbled something incoherent and took that one little step away from the stool.

Geralt had never felt so excited, so happy, so proud. His son, the son he never imagined he’d get, took his first steps towards him. 

You watched with bated breath, tears nearly coming to your eyes.

“That’s it, Bram.” Geralt fought the urge to pick up the baby and instead, continued to try to coax him into taking another step. 

Bram wobbled a little and Geralt flinched as if to get him. But then he took a few more steps. These ones were more rushed because he was starting to lose what little balance he had.

He fell into Geralt’s hands and the witcher caught him, pulling him in for a hug.

You moved to Geralt’s side as he stood up, brushing your hand over Bram’s back and kissing him. 

“He did so good.” You smiled proudly. 

Bram began to whine because he wanted down, so Geralt placed him back on the floor. This time, Geralt held on to his little hands and helped him to walk. Bram let go of Geralt’s fingers, he was a brave little baby, and started to take steps away from his father. 

He took a step that happened to be too wide and before either of you could react, Bram fell back, catching his elbow on the wooden floor. 

He began to cry immediately and Geralt was there to get him before you could. He picked your son up and held him close to his chest. 

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay.” He hushed Bram, rubbing his back. Bram made grabby hands at you, so Geralt had no choice but to give him up. 

“My poor baby.” You cooed, gently bouncing up and down. 

Geralt rubbed Bram’s elbow, feeling useless that he couldn’t make his baby feel better. He leaned down and kissed Bram’s elbow, which confused the baby. He looked at Geralt, little brows knit together and cheeks damp from tears. And then he burst out into laughter. 

Geralt smiled and kissed his elbow again. 

“He’ll be okay.” The witcher stated, though he was saying it mostly for himself. He needed reassurance that the little bump on the elbow wouldn’t harm his son.

“He will.” You nodded, smiling at both of them.

Eskel

“Daddy! Daddy!” Nadia squealed as she ran through the house. You were about to open your mouth to tell her to slow down when your husband spoke up.

“Nadia, what have I told you about running in the house?” Eskel scolded, looking up from the book he was reading.

“Daddy! Bleater is after me!” Nadia ran through the kitchen. A few heartbeats later, the goat was trotting through the kitchen.

“I told you bringing Lil Bleater into the house would be troublesome.” Eskel stood up and moved into the kitchen to see how dinner was coming along. You insisted on making the soup yourself and declined his offer to help.

“Yes, but it’s awfully cold outside during the nights. And her joints get stiff when she’s too cold.” You turned your head to look at him. 

“You just wanted her inside to wear Nadia out for bed.” Eskel placed a hand on the small of your back and kissed your cheek.

“It would be lovely if she went to be at a decent time.” You sighed a little. 

There was a sudden thunk in the other room and Eskel was gone from the kitchen. 

By the time you got to the living room, he was holding a crying Nadia in his lap on the floor. Lil Bleater curiously sniffed Nadia’s leg, wanting to know that the little girl would be okay. 

“What happened?” You asked, moving to them.

“Hit my elbow on the door.” Nadia whimpered, her bottom lip sticking out. Eskel rubbed her elbow and kissed her head.

“Maybe now you’ll stop running through the house.”

“Kiss it better, daddy.” Nadia stuck her elbow in Eskel’s face, nearly catching him in the nose. 

He pressed a kiss to her elbow. 

“Does it feel better now?”

“Yes.” Nadia smiled a little, sniffling and wiping her cheeks. 

She wiggled and writhed until Eskel let her go. Then she was running through the house again, Lil Bleater following close behind. 

Eskel sighed as he stood up. 

“She’s as stubborn as her father.” You told him, smiling softly. 

“What? I’m not stubborn.” He couldn’t hide the grin on his lips from you.

“Sure you aren’t.”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye  @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07  @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @crazybutconfidentaf @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural  @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @thefirelordm @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @runawayolives @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an–actual–human–disaster

[outoftimewriting]

Imagine (Son of Hades! Percy; Godswapped! Big Three's kids) The Lost Hero AU (1/7) (6/12)

Okay so before you read this, there's the whole PJO AU that I've wrote on this - check on the masterpost - that is more or less essential to this plot. So enjoy! Have a good reading, and leave reviews and ideas! And don't forget to check the warnings before reading :))

Jason wakes up on a bus - he doesn’t remember where he is. Why he is here? How is he here? He is not supposed to be here - where is he supposed to be? Who is this girl holding his hand?

Coach Hedge seems familiar - somehow. Something in his posture, in the way he walks a little wobbly, it’s strangely comforting. And he knows that Jason doesn’t belong here - it means he is not going crazy. Maybe. The jury is still out on that one.

He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know what a “Wilderness School” could possibly be - and who is this messy-haired hyperactive boy cracking jokes? Why is he with them - they're all seventeen? Sixteen? This boy looks young.

Piper. Leo. He has names now - information. Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. Say not always what you know, but always know what you say.

Jason has no idea where he learned that, but it seems like good advice. He doesn’t stutter - his back contracts with the phantom pain of lashes. He starts to ask - who are they, where are they, where are they going.

They are not helpful at all. Leo thinks he is joking - Piper is too busy defending her heritage, and he can’t really blame her for it - a flash of black skin, dark as night, crosses his mind, but is gone before he can connect it to anyone.

There's a pen in his pocket, a name carved onto it. It says Undisonus - which he knows means "resounding with waves".

They are in a Dam. The Hoover Dam. Jason ditches hyper kid, and goes to talk with the Coach - the man is a crackpot fool and Jason kind of thinks he is hopped up on cocaine or smh. He makes no sense - and he explains shit, like who lets this dude supervise children if he can't be clear.

At least Jason is not going crazy. Or not going crazy alone. There’s something evil in the storm - and the coach is a faun-...satyr-...Half-goat. Well, Jason hopes he is not traveling with his dude after this - the whole bus will smell like a barn.

They are fighting an evil storm. Jason's pen is not a pen - it's a sword, made of gold with green stones in its handle. Apparently, the rain doesn’t make him wet, and his sword can absorb energy.

He destroys the monster - Dylan was his name - By singing. He sings - it's not really singing as much as it's producing a very deep sound out of his chest - and the monster gets sloppy, erratic. The weaker ones - the venti - explode when the sound waves connect. It's like he is drawing the sound from the water itself.

Then he saves the girl from falling by using the tides to form something - a tornado? - and catch her. She seems cool. Kinda. Jason feels weird - he doesn’t know her last name. He doesn’t remember his last name.

Some teens come - three of them, in flying horses that he can hear on his mind, like badly connected radios. One of them is a tired blonde girl, who seems to take his presence as a personal offense. The second one is a buff girl who could probably break his neck by flexing her biceps, while the third one is a boy - a boy missing half a leg.

Jason tunes the rude girl out for a second - he is already getting punished for this mess by having to hear her. Apparently, she is after someone that is not Jason. But then, the boy missing half a leg - Alabaster - brings a name up, and Jason startles.

That’s the thing: He doesn’t remember anything - anything but a name. Perseus- no. It sounds wrong. Percy.

"Percy Jackson?" He asks.

Annabeth - or Commander Chase, how he thinks it would be right to call her - the rude blonde - looks like he just solved world hunger. Her voice cracks a little - Percy Jackson. Jason feels weirdly possessive of the name - it's his memory, his link to whoever he is.

"How do you know him? Do you know where he is?" She is on the verge of either fainting or crying, but Jason can't blame her - he would be bawling his eyes out too if only something inside of him didn't fear the sheer idea of sobbing.

Because Jason can’t tell why, or how, or who he is - but he knows that Percy is the key to unlock his memory. But he's been missing for a month.

He knows things. Jason knows they are demigods, what it means to be one - and Valdez (it sounds wrong to call him Leo in such an official situation) is a son of Vulc-... Hephaestus.

The blonde doesn't ask a lot of questions: he has been trained to follow orders, he has been hardwired to be a soldier. He stays in military parade rest the whole time until Commander Chase drags him to see an Oracle.

Jason is pretty sure it should've been called an augur. But they go anyway - and it's not the official person he is expecting. It's a redhead girl painting a face - a black teen, more or less Jason's age, with a purple and orange flower crown and a closed-off expression.

That's Perseus Jackson. He learns a lot about the boy in a conversation - Perseus is a son of Hades (Pluto, God of Riches and the Dead, his mind supplies). He is not sixteen/seventeen like Jason apparently is - he is eighteen and a high school graduate. He was - is, because Commander Chase is sure they're finding him - taking a sabbatical year before going to college - MIT or Stanford, the impossible choice, the Oracle jokes. No one calls him Percy - except for a select few close friends.

Something about this is wrong, just wrong. Augurs - Oracles, whatever - are not supposed to be girls in ripped jeans. They are not supposed to be planning to go to Parsons in the next summer - Aug- Oracles shouldn't even have close relationships to soldiers!

Something must show in his face - because the Cherokee girl, who followed them for a tour of the place, tries to grab his hand. He doesn't let her - Jason knows he shouldn't show affection in front of officers.

Commander Chase asks questions he can't answer. He doesn't know where Perseus had gone for a week without communication six months ago, nor why he came back with no memories of it. He doesn't remember meeting him. He doesn't know if he was in Kronos' side - even if a pit of rage opens in his gut at Saturn's - Kronos - name.

Perseus starts to sound wrong in his mind - Perseus is their leader, and it's clear in the way Commander Chase talks about him that she is his second in command - so he starts calling them General Jackson and Lieutenant Chase in his mind. He doesn't voice this - because even McLean is being called by her first name, and Jason follows as well.

Jason has a tattoo of a trident with bars - no, not a tattoo, a brand. So they split ways - Jason goes see (Senator? Consul? Magister? Consiliario?) Chiron, and McLean stays to be weaponized - It's bad management, Jason thinks, to give a soldier weapons before they know how to use them. But Jason is also just a foot soldier here - he has no opinion and no voice.

Piper is not having a good day - she is not having a good week. Her boyfriend, apparently, is not her boyfriend. Her mother, a goddess. She keeps having dreams - and the Queen of Gods just gave her a mission. To save her - or the whole world ends.

And Annabeth - the beautiful girl with the missing boyfriend (who Piper is not sure is hers or Rachel's, but she is pretty sure all priestesses must be virgins or something) - just rolls her eyes.

This happens all the time - the gods mess things up, and they clean it up. It'll have to wait until they have more information - and until there's an official quest.

They give her a weapon too - she has no idea how to use it, but it's a beautiful dagger. It even has a name, Katoptris. She feels like Arya Stark in that new show that aired in April - a true wolf.

Leo is also having a very weird experience - he has half-siblings. After all those years in the streets or being shoved in and out of foster homes, he has a family - and they think he is the second coming of Jesus or the Antichrist - no one is really sure yet.

Leo is a fire manipulator. Some of the younger kids there look at him with fear - but most of the older ones talk about Perseus Jackson (and isn't that a very popular person, jeez), and how he saved all of their collective asses with his own fire.

Leo gets curious - it's the boy Jason has never mentioned before, but is the only thing he remembers, his brother?

Jake Mason - their incapacitated leader - says that unofficially, yes. The dead counselor - the one that brought the curse - was Perseus's father figure, before he died in the war. But Perseus wasn't - isn't, they avoid using the past tense - a Hephaestus kid. He was the one and only son of Hades.

The thing is, Leo doesn't have a filter. So the first thing he blurts out is "Well, at least they did the fire right in the Hercules movie". Nyssa - and the idea he has a sister is equal parts amazing and terrifying - looks at him like he is crazy, but laughs anyway.

Jason has a vision of a goddess - he doesn't know her. She calls him her champion - but it sounds wrong - and she doesn't tell her anything, because why would her, really. Then, McLean enters, and, apparently, the Oracle was possessed (how is this any news, isn't the Oracle supposed to be possessed?).

This is all connected by the fact that Jupiter - Zeus - has closed off all mortal communications. Well, mostly - Magister Chiron says that it's possible the King still has some contact with his only mortal son, Nico di Angelo.

And isn't it just marvelous that the name makes something stir on him like everything else? Even so, Jason doesn't say anything - Magister Chiron is an officer. Di Angelo is clearly also an officer - and one who answers directly to Jup- Zeus.

Di Angelo appears - looking like a beggar in need of a shower and a haircut - and isn't this a blessing. Jason wants to interrogate him - but the moody teenager has important news - Hera is missing. And she is probably the goddess sending them the messages.

They go see a boy named Clovis, in the Hypnos Cabin - and that makes something stir in Jason - he feels happy. They're so relaxed - and while he has no memories, this feeling of comfort is foreign in his body.

Clovis - who Jason is half-sure is a zombie in human skin - tells him what he already knew - someone took his memories. News: It was Hera. Or Juno - because Jason didn't fall out of the railway yet and the gods have split personalities.

They go to sleep - all three of them because this has been a long day and none of them are in shape for the bonfire later.

Piper dreams of her father, and a fiery giant that tells her to go to a quest - and she is so, so tired of these all-powerful beings telling her to do something and not explaining anything. When she wakes up, she tells Rachel exactly that, and the redhead laughs.

"You and Percy, you'll be best friends. I don't even need to be an Oracle to tell you that" And then proceeds to tell Piper all about Perseus Jackson roasting the gods for being awful parents.

She thinks she might like him - Piper has never seen a black hero before. There's not much prejudice against color or gender or sexual orientation here - its harshly punished, and the person has to undergo classes about equality and prejudice. When Rachel spins her tale, it's clear Perseus was in love with Luke - and it's obviously unrequited but no less important for the decision that saved their civilization.

Leo is in a much similar situation - he dreams about his Aunt Rosa, and wakes up in a panic - he hated the woman. It's Nyssa - the acting counselor - who calms him down - she tells him all the newbies are like that, and once, it was Perseus who hold her.

It's weird how the hero seems like this larger than life person - everyone talks about him, all the time. He was their hero, an invincible wall of muscles and shadows with a giant ax, but most of the people his age see him as a big brother, a soft protective guy with big blue sweaters and horrible morning breath.

Leo goes spend time with Jake - but Jake is occupied. Being half a mummy and preparing to lose one foot because of nerve damage doesn't make him incapable of snogging his nurse, a very willing Will.

Jason is also on the Perseus Jackson boat - but he is in much deeper. He dreams about the hero.

He wasn't doing anything heroic though - it was just him, not even eleven yet, alone in a playground. He is sitting in the grass and there's a book in his lap, and some bigger kids are calling him names - charcoal lump, nigger, ape, monkey, negro - it just goes on.

Jason is a white person. A very Californian tanned one, but a white, blonde person nonetheless. He doesn't remember anything, and he has had no real contact with racism - that he remembers - even though he knows what it means.

But he is pretty sure people of color shouldn't be racist. Shouldn't they support each other? Why is there an Asian and a clearly Hindi (maybe Muslim, Jason is no good with this) person attacking him for his skin?

The memory changes now. Perseus is in his early teens, and he is at camp - well, at least this should be better. It's not.

Perseus is walking alone - this time, there's no one mocking him. It's worse. People look at him with a mix of fear and disgust - even people who have been singing his praises since Jason entered this camp. Even Chase steers clear of him.

The pavilion is different, Jason thinks. There are fewer tables, and the Hermes one is full - is where Perseus sits. People enter after him, and, although there's plenty of space around him, the only people who sit with him are three boys: one dark-haired in his later teens, a young blonde adult with an ugly scar, and Alabaster, with his full two legs and at least five years younger.

Jason feels some kinship for Perseus - the feeling of being ostracized is not unfamiliar. He tries to push after it - but he just wakes up.

When he wakes up, the first thing he does is chase Lt. Chase down (ha) and ask her about his dreams.

He doesn't tell her the first vision - she wasn't there, is not his to tell - but the second in great detail. She asks for a description of the two boys - and suddenly, she is both sad and happy.

"It happened to him," She says, and there's a tear rolling through her cheek that makes him think that this is Annabeth "Those guys... These are Luke Castellan and Ethan Nakamura... You're... You're getting visions of Percy. This... This is good. We can work with that."

Then she leaves muttering to herself, so Jason goes to track down the person who can tell him more: Alabaster.

Jason tells his dream again - and Alabaster gets a sad and wistful face. There are blue sparks playing in his fingers, and his mechanic prosthetic - a bold shade of red with a whip painted across the knee, the mark of Nemesis - whirs a little.

Alabaster doesn't paint Perseus as a hero or a beloved leader - he paints Perseus as a scared, relatable kid, twelve years old with the weight of the world in his shoulders.

He tells Jason how Perseus never had his own bunk - how most of them slept on the floor. How there were no cabins for minor gods and Cabin 11 brimmed with unclaimed children. How Perseus raged against the gods - but couldn't leave his friends to the mercy of Kronos.

How Perseus was never a hero just because he fought in the war - but because he fought for them, all of them, no matter which side they were in. They were just kids - the real battle was with the immortal beings.

Jason learns this, and something shines in his eyes. Lou Ellen snorts from her top bunk from where she is half-watching the scene - it's the same shine Nico Di Angelo got after Grover told him about Percy Jackson and that never left his eyes. At least this one is older.

The three newbies go to the bonfire - and they trade stories in the way. All of their stories involve Perseus - it's like he is the entity of this camp. He is this camp - there's no other explanation.

Jason starts talking about his dream - and Piper and Leo, who "remember" the blonde's crush on Piper, look at each other with resignation. Their memories may be fake - but this is very much the insufferable Jay they know.

Piper thinks she should be much more worried about her relationship with Jason, but she is cool - first, she apparently doesn't even know him, though she would like to, cause he is cool. Second, he is just a boy. The real life version of Aquaman - but a boy nonetheless. And she has bigger problems - like, for example, who is her mother?

They go to the bonfire - Jason creates a hurricane, and he's proved to be a son of Poseidon - he has a sister apparently, the Lieutenant of the Hunt.

Katie - a girl with the most amazing dreads Piper has ever seen in this life and a staff, which is not as cool as Piper's dagger, but just as lethal - tells her all about the huntresses.

Piper thinks that if there's a thing that she would give up boys forever for, it's an immortal hunt with a goddess. She asks Katie if the hunt accepts trans girls - perhaps after this whole business with Hera, she can join.

Maybe there, she will finally be accepted as a tomboy. Maybe there, she won't have to fend off questions of why does she "wants to be" a girl if she likes her messy hair and doesn't care about "girly" things. If cis girls are allowed to like skating and use baggy clothes and have short hair - why isn't she?

But she is kind of against the whole misandry thing. Sure, she can stop being with a man in romantic or sexual ways, but to not have male friends because "man is evil" is clear prejudice - doesn't matter where it comes from.

Rachel issues a prophecy - Leo volunteers (under the condition he must find a water-based way of transportation), and Piper thinks that's her chance, she is been having those weird dreams for a while now. But- as a girl she hasn't met, named Drew Tanaka - points out, she is not claimed.

Well - that changes pretty quickly. The dress isn't her style - not at all - nor is the make-up. But at least her mother recognizes her gender - it's Aphrodite, what could she expect? At least there are no feathers in her hair or animal skin clothing - the stereotype is just ridiculous.

At least now her magic voice has an explanation and she can throw it in Leo's face - see, she was asking!

Piper is given a bunk on Aphrodite's cabin - which has twenty-one children between the ages of 7 and 25, of all races and genders - and learns quickly that no one there is prejudiced - beauty comes in very different ways.

She makes friends, and discovers that Drew isn't a counselor - she trash-talked Silena Beauregard once and tried to use her charm speak on a young boy, and everyone ousted her - all Aphrodite children are resistant to charm speak.

Lacy is thirteen, and just a summer camper - she is cis and white and blonde with blue eyes. She also has social anxiety - so she is the only one Drew doesn't bitches to in public.

Mitchell is the only boy (of her fourteen half-brothers) in this cabin who actually talks to her. He is from Texas, and he's a shy nerd, with a big crush on both Annabeth Chase and Malcolm Cage - who Piper learns leads the Trans Support Group on camp, which has more or less twenty-five kids, from the now 157 campers.

Piper is surprised - it's 2011, and gender is still kind of taboo - but she shouldn't be. They tell her the gods are way freer with both gender and sexuality - Lacy doesn't have a father, but a mortal mother. There's a lot of year-rounders who stay because of homophobic parents.

She asks if gods can transition people. They tell her maybe Aphrodite, maybe Eros - but the ones who are over eighteen can ask to go on quests to see the deity Hermaphroditus - they are the only one who magically transitions people, but it's not without a price - they are a god, after all.

She decides that - prejudiced or not - Drew Tanaka is a bitch of mythic proportions. The girl has weaker charmspeak than Piper - but she uses it way more, and for worse reasons. She is twenty - almost four years older than Piper - and picks on everyone she cans - mostly young children of other cabins, even though she already got punished for it four times - counselors are ridiculously protective of their children.

Piper thinks Drew is such a bitch because of her trauma - the Cherokee girl sees her walking with a cane that looks directly out of a Prada store, and Lacy tells her Drew had to do a total knee replacement after the war, and when it's way too cold it bothers her. When she tells her theory to Mitchell, the boy laughs for the first time.

"Darlin'" He starts, with the southern drawl that makes people doubt he has no charmspeak "Drew was always a bitch. She was a bitch before she even knew she had charmspeak. She was a bitch when she got to Camp if that fella from Demeter is too be believed."

The older Aphrodite children just roll their eyes at it - Drew has no real power here.

"Don't worry, kiddo," Says the counselor, a non-binary kid that goes by Ariel and has an uncanny similarity to the princess, if not for the undercut and the pixie hair "She does her thing once more, and she is in laundry duty for the rest of the summer. And if she says an A about Silena too you, you come directly to us. No one trash talks Silena Beauregard in this Camp."

Leo has just done something amazing, he thinks. He fixed the steel dragon - Festus because maybe Jason will feel better with a Latin name - and he can totally make him work on water - like a sea serpent! He always wanted a Gyarados anyway.

It leads to an underground bunk - and isn't this the coolest camp ever - and Leo attaches motors to it. And a tail that works in water, so the transport is well and done.

Jason goes to explore his cabin - and he finds pictures there, of Thalia Grace's friends, that she left behind. There's one with Perseus, two girls in silver jackets with bows, a faun and Thalia herself - in the same Dam they were this morning.

She is his sister. He knows it, just like he knows the curve of his nose and hers are the same, the way both of them have the same curls when they let their hair grow - that's why both of them have it cut short.

He tells it to Lt. Chase. Not under the Styx vow - he has no need for it. Jason hopes she contacts his sister, and tells her about it - even when she tells him Thalia never told anyone about him. Well, maybe they're estranged. She might know something about him, anyway.

They leave in Festus, and Jason's water powers aren't even needed - Leo has it handled with his magical mechanic beast.

It's difficult to travel in the cold water - but Jason wills the water away, and it obeys.

Do you know who doesn't obey? Khione. The boreads go away easily with Piper's charmspeak - and isn't it a scary thought that she can will away gods - but Khione is more powerful than her.

And the gods keep complicating their lives. Instead of appeasing Aeolus - no. Let the demigods pay the price for their mistakes. However, Jason is a son of Poseidon - or Neptune, because Boreas exchanges form when they talk.

Their next stop is Chicago - which is really convenient because they can go the whole way by water.

The travel is, however, long, and Piper dreams of the fiery giant again - Enceladus. She hates dreaming about him - he calls her boy, doesn't care for her pronouns, and is clearly the villain, and Piper knows about dreams.

Her father may not care for their culture - and she is okay with that. However, she loved her grandfather's stories. And while Piper is Cherokee, she knows about the Navajo dream walkers and the Abenaki legend about the world created by the dream of the Great Spirit.

Dreams have power - in all cultures, in all religions. She is not making a deal with a creature that uses her dreams to communicate.

Jason - Jason Grace - Also dreams. And once again, he dreams of Perseus Jackson.

His first vision - they're not dreams, dreams mean they're not true - is of Percy in his middle teens. He is in a familiar pier and it's winter - as far from the water as he can possibly get. By his side, Luke Castellan - the one Jason knows later becomes Saturn.

They are talking. Well, Castellan is talking, all wide smiles and side-hugs. Perseus laughs at his jokes and blushes every time they get close to each other. There's not a sliver of Percy's skin to be seen under his neck - but Jason is pretty sure he is shivering when Luke whispers something in his ear.

It makes Jason weirdly bothered - two men aren’t supposed to act like that towards one another outside of the privacy of their tents or the throes of war. It’s a weakness - same sex’s company is stimulated in battle - to unite the ranks. But soldiers are supposed to do their duty and procreate more soldiers - even if he doesn’t remember who the war is against.

Perseus eventually leaves - melting into the shadows - and with him, Luke's smile is gone. Alabaster and the dark-haired boy - that Jason knows it's called Ethan now - come to talk to Luke, who is clearly bothered by something.

Alabaster asks him if he convinced Perseus yet. Luke says he didn't, but he'll keep trying - the son of Hades would be a huge asset to Kronos' army. The blonde's face is as cold as the waters must be.

The memory changes. Perseus is now maybe sixteen, hopefully, older - Jason doesn't know - with a giant hellhound by his side, hugging his own knees. He is in front of a river - somewhere dark, the Underworld probably - and he is crying.

This is the first memory where Perseus - Percy, for this memory is too intimate - shows any bare skin. He doesn't have a shirt on - nor shoes or socks. Jason gets sidetracked by the muscles - totally in a comparative way - but the presence of Alabaster brings him back to reality.

"Luke is going to rebirth," Percy says, full of sorrow "I saw him in Elysium only once - I'm barely able to get there, I'm no good with spirits, and I couldn't talk to him. It's his last rebirth before the Isle of the Blessed. Is it selfish, that I wanted him to wait for me?" Alabaster shakes his head, hugging the younger boy close.

"Did he ever love me, Alabaster? Even as a friend?"

Jason can’t see how it would be any different. Men don’t love men - men share beds and quick escapades into the night. But this - this thing Perseus has for Luke - is different. It’s all encompassing.

"Of course, Percy. He loved you as much as you love him. Just... Just not in the same way." He doesn't even hesitate to lie.

Jason wakes up furious for no reason - but he has no time to deal with that now because Festus is caught in a tempest. Without ways of controlling him, they shipwreck in a deserted beach - in Detroit of all places, still a day and a half of Chicago, even with Festus' speed.

There's an abandoned warehouse there. Both Jason and Piper are distraught from their dreams - everyone talks it over (kinda, Jason is too angry with his visions and too deep in denial) and they try to calm themselves while letting Leo solve the dragon problem.

Leo is worried about his companions. They can't sleep without having weird dream visions - Nyssa told him back in camp that was "normal" for demigods, especially those questing, but Jason has been dreaming of a missing person while being a missing person himself, and Piper is having dreams of a monster he is already 80% sure they'll confront sooner or later.

He must've been really sleep deprived and way too into his friends' stories, because he has a hallucination.

His sleep paralysis demon is clearly not up to news - She thinks Jason and Piper are together, even if Jason is having a hard crush on his literal dream dude and Piper is in love with her dagger - Leo thinks that if she doesn't get to stab something soon, she'll be stabbing them while they're asleep.

And even if they were together - what does it matter for Leo? In his fake memories at least, he has been third-wheeling for a while now. He doesn't really care - he is fifteen, for gods sake. Leo jokes a lot - but he had like, two crushes on his whole life: Penelope Cruz and Johnny Depp, and both because of the pirate movie they watched in class last semester.

Turns out the Muddy Mary was just stalling him - but he is Leo Badass Valdez, and he totally destroys those cyclops - What name is Ma Gasket anyway, what was Poseidon thinking.

They try to reform, but Jason mixes his relatives - and yes, Leo is holding this over him forever - with water: Monster Kool-Aid.

It gains time for them to get back on Festus and go to Chicago - with the tune up Leo gave on the disk, they're there in half a day and they don't even drown in Lake Michigan - even though Jason says he thinks there are sirens there.

Then its explore the sewers time. Festus is too small for them - so they are disgusting alone. Leo feels like a rat.

He and Jason talk - they start talking about their powers, and how Leo is confused about his own fire. If a hero had it, it couldn't be bad, could it? Jason equals it to his water powers - its the same, but in different sides of the elemental spectrum.

"If I learned anything with the Camp's fan love for Perseus - and I'm not kidding, Lacy totally has a shrine for him somewhere," Piper starts "Is that our powers, our parentage - it doesn't define us."

"I'm not a manipulative bitch because I can charmspeak... shut it Leo! It was just a car" Leo mimes driving away, and she swats him upside the head.

"Leo is not a demon because of his fire. Maybe a gremlin but-..." It's his time to try and swat at her, even if she is probably capable of killing him with her pinky after spending the whole two days in Camp with Rachel - her Oracle facade doesn't fool Leo, he saw that knife strapped to her leg - doing gods knows what.

"And Jason is not a fish, so we're all fine" They are laughing - and Leo thinks this is way better than those fake memories.

Their encounter with Medea goes a little differently this time. Jason is a son of the sea - his mind is too fickle. He and Leo don't fight each other - even though the scrawny boy tries really hard and Jason will lord this over him forever.

They battle the Sun Dragons - they're no match for Jason's power over water, and he does the weird singing thing - this time to lesser results. Maybe the bigger the monster, the less his powers work.

They escape through the sewers - with one very petrified Coach Hedge and a cage full of air spirits in tow. Jason liquefies the vapor trail in the sky - and they pray together for Zeus not to strike them out of his sky.

Leo finally has prophetic dreams of his own - his father. He is less cool than Leo though he was - but maybe that's Leo's internalized ableism talking. Or the fact that the god looks like he hasn't showered in a week - Leo can identify with that, being a sewer rat himself.

Their prayers don't work. Zeus - or something up there - shot them out of the sky when Festus is malfunctioning. Jason cushions their fall with a mini-hurricane - because the dude is clearly Ororo Munroe's frat boy version.

His baby is broken, partially cause someone up there hates him, partially because of where he landed. He prays to his father - and Leo thinks he's way cooler when he actually answers. With nowhere to go, the three of them go into the house.

Midas didn't count Jason being capable of controlling water. Soon, nothing is gold anymore - And he loves his sword a lot, but he hopes he doesn't have to see it for a while because anything gold will burn his retinas again.

Jason dreams of Perseus again. This time, the demigod is with a goddess who has the same exquisite skin color as him - and dreadlocks adorned with bones. They are curving shadows like smoke around their hands - even if Jason can barely focus on their conversation, because the guy he has been having visions about every time he naps is basically in a skirt and nothing more. Is he allowed to appreciate him if he is wearing womanly clothes?

It's really weird, to be peeving in a boy - in a man - he has (probably) never met and does not remember - but Jason is watching the guy's life. Private moments that someone (probably Hera/Juno, he bets she is the one who took Perseus too) is showing him - he feels like he knows him.

Perseus and the goddess talk - mostly about Perseus' school and Rachel. He seems happy - and carefree, even though he is probably over sixteen (if the last memories make any sense), and Luke Castellan is already dead. This is perhaps a little before he disappeared - and Jason rages against the unfairness of the gods' games.

Jason knows men aren’t supposed to be together - but he saw them at Camp. Same sex people holding hands and kissing in public - wherever Jason comes from, this isn’t talked about. He wishes that he could stay forever at Camp - this alternative reality where they are allowed to live freely. Jason thinks he might’ve asked Perseus for a date - lunch at the beach, perhaps. If he is allowed to stay and they find the son of Hades, he might do exactly that.

They rest in a mountain cave - and discuss Jason's dreams about Perseus (not in great detail, because Leo is teasing him enough about it) and Piper's nightmares about the evil fire giant - who Medea told them it's Enceladus. They have no idea who it is, but Jason is apparently a human encyclopedia of mythology - it's the bane of Athena.

They're attacked by Lycaon - who calls Jason "Lupa's seal cub". Jason is so tired of not remembering anything because this is probably supposed to be offensive, but it just sounds funny, and now Leo is going to keep calling him seal cub. If they survive, because Jason is way too exhausted.

He meets his sister - with Leo, because he needs a security net, and Piper has hypothermia - he feels guilty, because he did this to her.

And their story sounds like a tragedy. Thalia thought he was dead - and then she ran away, became a crying tree for five years, was saved by Perseus - because clearly, that Camp does not work without him - went on a mission with him to save Chase, almost destroyed the world, lost over half of her quest mates (because apparently, Perseus left the camp for reasons she won't explain - he doesn’t care, he’ll probably dream about it later), became the Lt. of the Hunt - and was now going stir-crazy because her mistress is locked up in Olympus.

Lieutenant Grace - how his soldier mind reverts her name quickly, sister or not, is really worrying - is happy to see him. They hug - and it feels for the first time, things are going well for Jason. Thalia and Leo even bond a little - over laughing about Jason's stupid decisions and dream crush on Percy Jackson.

He does have a crush on a guy - at least in the privacy of his mind. It’s just the boy’s stupid muscles and his stupid curls, and the way he was so carefree with that goddess, the way he curled in Alabaster’s arms, the way Luke Castellan never deserved him.

They keep talking - about Perseus, their missions, their lifes - and he feels like this was what he was supposed to find all his life, the missing piece to a long-standing puzzle.

They go to Aeolus castle. Due to their shared conversations, Leo doesn't make any conclusions - because all of these theories, about exchanging camps, they were talked about in the cave - when Jason first discovers the Wolf House.

They leave the mountain in a hurricane - Jason is really handy with these. At least they know where to go to find Enceladus: Mount Diablo. What a fitting name.

Piper meets her mother - and it's pleased that, when Aphrodite looks at her, she doesn't see blonde hair or green eyes - she sees a Cherokee woman, with short-cropped up hair and a lightning tattoo - the mark of a warrior. It's the woman she wants to be - not a boy she considers now one of her best friends.

Aphrodite tells her where they need to go. She tries to talk about Jason - but Piper says it was a bad idea. She shouldn't have given her those fake memories - it hurt more that way.

Aphrodite gives Piper a potion - and not only that, but she tells her that, when they meet again - not in a dream, but in life - she shall give Piper what she wants the most.

Her mother tells her some of her children are destined for greatness, and Piper is the Aeneas of this generation. Aeneas founded Rome - and Piper will shape the future of their civilization.

Then she tells Piper about the true enemy: Gaea. Suddenly, she wakes up, and oh Toto, they aren't in Kansas anymore.

They are in San Francisco - which triggers something in Jason because when they take a taxi, it's like he can't stop looking at everything.

There's a pier - Pier 36 - that Jason looks ready to cry when they pass through it. If not for the fiery giant threatening to kill Piper's father, she would probably stop the taxi - it's the first time Jason's facade breaks.

She thinks he might've been indoctrinated, as they do in cults or some religions, to believe that males have to act a certain way. Or fighters have to act a certain way - because he is certainly not misogynist. He looks fearful just to talk about his dreams about Perseus, though - like someone will come and take those from him because he likes them.

There's no much time for consideration, Leo thinks - soon, Piper saves her dad (who is prettier in real life). Then, they're fighting against Dirty Bubbles - because Jason is clearly Mermaid Man - if the way he keeps singing and the creatures get rekt by his voice are any signal. Does that mean Leo is Barnacle Boy?

The Earthborn holds no candle to Jason's power on an island. And Leo is helping a lot too because that's his best friend's father and he can totally paralyze mud with fire - is basic Chem.

Poseidon helps them defeat Athena's Bane - and how is that for irony - with an earthquake followed by a giant wave that - if not for Jason - would've killed them all.

Jason dreams on the helicopter - it's the first one not about Perseus. This one, there's a woman - her skin is as dark as the soil, but her hair merges with the wheat around her. She is clad in a green dress and holds a basket of strawberries to her chest as she whistles through the plantation.

Then, she sees him - and changes. Her hair goes up - there's a staff in her right hand, the corn went in exchange for loaves of bread. The woman smiles, and Jason feels like he's been embraced by warmth.

"My champion" Ceres starts, for he knows her name, with infinite care in her voice "You don't need to fear Juno's machinations. She knows nothing of motherly love - she shall never understand it. The winter is difficult - but the Harvest will bring deliverance."

It's the first time he is sad to see a deity go. Deliverance - does that mean that Perseus will come back by June? Summer is harvest - even if June is six months away.

Piper doesn't use the potion on her father - no. It won't help anything, to forget - she learned that with Jason. The boy has no memories and all kinds of triggers and internalized problems. Tristan McLean is going through shock - and as soon as Piper is done with the whole Hera/Juno and Gaea thing, she is going home and taking care of him.

Leo's fire can't see to open Aunt Callid-... Hera's cage. And isn't really weird his babysitter was a goddess grooming him for war - even though Aphrodite told Piper Gaea only awakened after Kronos, and they didn't even know Kronos would rise twelve years ago.

So Hera just groomed him because her mind went "Oh, Hades' child. May cause the end of the world - Idk how. Might need firebender - time to groom this child". Was he supposed to be her pawn for the first Titan War? Her way of being recognized - but she hid away her card when she saw the bigger threat on the horizon, to gain what? Prestige? Glory?

Is that why he survived so many years away from Camp, with no random monster attacks? Was he just... just hiding for later use?

Man, he sure understands now why people rose against the gods. They are assholes.

Khione is pretty - but as Leo said, a goddess. So, an asshole. She has this whole elaborate plan to make Jason's demigods (Romans?) start a war - but her plan is shit. So he fights her because she is an asshole and isn't even a good villain.

A mysterious horse appears - a very rude horse if Jason's increasingly appalled face is to be believed. Its (his) name is Arion, and together with Jason, they literally turn the battle tides.

Piper is magical. Literally - Aphrodite's blessing apparently doesn't cover only beauty - it makes her a battle queen. She jumps - and the air supports her. She falls - and the earth trembles. Piper moves like a dancer - even though she barely fought before - and her and Jason's voice make the wolves so confused they start banging their heads in the walls.

Piper sometimes forgets her mother is a daughter of the sea and the sky - because Jason's tides don't touch her, and the air seems to help her, to mold her. Aphrodite is not only pretty - Love is always in the last place you expect it. And so is Piper.

Jason fights Porphyrion - and the only thing he can think about is why. Why is he doing this, for a goddess who took his life from him - who took everything he was. Why him? Why not Di Angelo, who is a son of Zeus? Why not anyone else?

They keep fighting and fighting and fighting - and Hera helps, in the end, and claims all the credit - because this apparently isn't all her fault at all. She almost kills Jason - because is not enough to wipe his mind - but water (and Piper's reality control power) save him.

They go back to Camp - and nothing changes. They don't become their Cabin counselors - except for Jason, because he is the only mortal kid of Poseidon.

Lacy suggests it - but the older ones quickly shut it down. Piper might be a hero - but she knows nothing of schedules or child care, she has no idea of how to counsel - She is barely seventeen. She is a sophomore - Piper can't even be a year-rounder, and there are young children there.

Ariel does say she has potential - worth grooming to succeed be second in command to their second in command - Troy - when Ariel leaves for her master's degree in Chemistry on Princeton.

And Leo - Leo has no responsibility to take care of others. He is an incredible engineer - and his firebending powers are amazing - but he is also not a counselor. Between the sixteen Hephaestus children, he is the second youngest - he's beat by nine-year-old Francisca Alves - a Brazilian girl who gave them a whole lot of problems to immigrate because her mother was Hi Merimã (an isolated indigenous tribe north of the country).

Being a counselor is not something harsh - is hard work, taking care of tens of demigods of all ages, taking stock of their basic needs, and making sure they are educated and welcomed - it's not a job given away freely to fifteen-year-olds.

The cabins with more people generally have older demigods in charge - twenty-year-olds who don't run into danger unless under dire circumstances, who are year-rounders and take online college courses - an exception of technology rule made by Chiron when they first started getting old enough for it to be possible.

Ceres talks to Jason - she is the one to deliver back his memories, for Juno is otherwise incapacitated. She tells her what it means - the Greeks, the Romans. And that they shall not go looking for Perseus Jackson - for it'll damage the Romans' trust if the hero doesn't win them by himself.

Jason feels bad for Perseus - he won't find in the Romans the kinship he found in the greeks. The Romans are people of war and discipline - soldiers, and not friends. Everything within Rome, nothing outside Rome, nothing against Rome.

Leo is the Captain of the Argo II - who will go to Greece so they can defeat the giants. The prophecy is clear - Seven shall answer the calling. When Jason comes bearing news of Ceres' message and his past memories, it's pretty clear - Seven shall go to the Jupiter Capitol - the head of the Twelve Cities that compose the Roman side of the demigods.

It's easy to decide who goes. Jason, Leo, and Piper - for obvious reasons. Annabeth and Malcolm - who are diplomatic leaders and have their own mission on Greece. Nico Di Angelo - for they're traveling by both air and water. Will Solace - for they also need a healer.

Fourteen cabins are build - they don't know how many Romans are coming with them, but at least Perseus is. Well, probably. He has been through one Great Prophecy - he might just be way too tired of this bullshit.

Jason has his memories back. The Prophecy is in the works. He didn't count, though, on keep dreaming of Perseus for the next six months it takes for them to make it to Rome.

Oh, how he's going to be so happy when his counterpart punches Juno in the face.

[javajunkieao3]

Beth/Benny Fic:  Being Alive - The Parent Years

The one where Beth and Benny’s five-year-old daughter challenges Vasily Borgov to a Candyland game.

AKA, the one I had way too much fun writing.  Set in the “Being Alive” universe.

           Beth sits at a familiar board, resting her chin on her folded hands as she studies the squares laid out before her.  She can see the path to victory clearly, but there is too much uncertainty on the board for her to know exactly how it will turn out.  As it stands, Beth’s opponent is ahead and it is her opponent’s turn, which gives her another chance to achieve an even farther lead.  Her opponent reaches forward and draws a card. It’s red.  Beth frowns, watching her daughter push the gingerbread man four spaces up.

           “Your turn,” her daughter says crisply, taking a sip of her apple juice.  Chess tournaments didn’t allow beverages other than water, but for a Candyland tournament, Alma considers the apple juice indispensable.

           Beth reaches forward and takes a card.  It’s a measly yellow, which only takes her one square forward.

           Benny walks into the kitchen and takes a look at the board.  “I see this game is going about as well as usual.”

           “How do I keep losing?”  Beth says unhappily.

           Alma draws another card that takes her directly to Gumdrop Mountain.  At this rate, she’ll reach Candy Castle in another three moves.  Maybe two. Alma grins up at her mother.

           “No gloating,” Beth says lightly.  Looking over at Benny, she remarks, “She gets that from you.”

           “I don’t gloat.  I simply enjoy my wins.”

           “Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?”

           Beth draws another card, swearing under her breath when she finds herself pulled into a Molasses Swamp.  She really hated this game.

           Benny crouches next to his daughter and says, “Your mother is very bad at this game.”

           “Daddy, you’re distracting me,” Alma says with exasperation.

           “I’m sorry, kid.”  Benny says. He straightens up, and when he passes Beth he says, “That she definitely got from you.”

           Three turns later, Alma arrives at Candy Castle and stretches her hand across the board, just as her parents taught her.

           “Good game, Mommy.”

           Beth smiles, once again struck by the fact that she had made someone so absolutely perfect.  She shakes her daughter’s hand and then calls out, “Carol, you’re up.”

           Mrs. Watts comes into the kitchen and says, “Another win?  Good for you, Alma dear.”

           Beth plants her hands on the table and stands.  “I think she’s going to sweep the tournament again.”

           Mrs. Watts takes her seat.  “Well, we’ll see about that.”

           Beth ruffles Alma’s hair before she goes to find Benny, leaving Mrs. Watts to play the reigning Candyland champion.  Benny is seated on the couch reading a magazine.  He looks up at her when he hears her approach, and says, “Another crushing defeat?”

           “I swear she stacks the deck.”

           “Honestly, if she did, I’d be a little proud.”

           Beth laughs, sitting next to him.  She rests her head on his shoulder and he says, “How are you feeling about Paris next week?”

           “I’m as ready as I can be,” Beth says.  

           “Borgov is still supposed to be there, right?”

           Beth nods.  Despite both of them being relatively active after Moscow, it is the first time they are facing off since her win all those years ago.  She feels nervous, but in a less unsteadying manner than before.  The thought of him didn’t frighten her anymore.

           “Do you think Alma will like Paris?” she asks.

           “It’s the country of bread and cheese.  I don’t think she’ll want to leave.”

           “And your mom?”

           “She doesn’t mind staying here.  She says she doesn’t like the French because they wear too much black.”

           “Well, naturally.”

           “Besides, I think a little trip just the three of us would be nice.  We haven’t done that for a few years.”

           They had purposely built in a few extra days in Paris to do some exploring. Beth is particularly excited to take Alma to see the Eiffel Tower.  Cleo brought her back a small figurine of it after her last trip there, and Alma kept it next to her bed, saying goodnight to it each evening before she went to sleep.

           Benny goes back to reading his magazine, holding it so that she can read along, too.  After about twenty minutes, Alma runs into the room and exclaims, “I won again!”

----

           Six days later, the family is in Paris, Alma asleep in her father’s arms as they check into the hotel.  Both Beth and Benny played enough over the years to be recognized, and a few people even ask for autographs.  They make their way up to the room and Benny puts Alma down on the bed, covering her with his coat.

           Beth glances over at their daughter and says, “You should wake her.  Otherwise, she’ll be up at two in the morning.”

           “It’s okay.  I’ll get up with her.  I’m not playing, anyway.”

           Beth nods.  While they kept true to their prior intention of not having children get in the way of tournaments, at a certain point, they did recognize the virtue of having one parent available while the other competed.  And so, after a few years, they tried to only have one of them playing at a tournament, if possible.  Benny played Paris the year prior, so this year, he happily took on the parenting duties.

           They order room service and after a quiet dinner, Beth tries to get some sleep, feeling her usual pre-tournament jitters.  It takes her a while to fall asleep, but when she does she sleeps soundly, and she wakes up feeling refreshed and ready for the day.  Alma is already up and she notices Benny put her in a dress that mimics the one she had chosen for the day.  She laid her dress out the night before and she wonders if Benny had purposely matched them, grinning at the thought.  

-----

           When they go down to where the tournament is being held, the first person that Beth sees is Borgov.  He is standing across the room with his wife, his demeanor its usual reserved and collected. He feels her gaze and looks over, offering her a small wave that she returns.  Benny walks over and lays a hand on her arm.

           “Are you ready?”

           She nods.  “Yes.”

           “I saw you have Ballister up first,” Benny says.  “He’ll be a good warmup.”

           Beth smiles slightly.  “I heard he got better after Mexico City.”

           “I saw him running pawn formations.  You don’t have to worry.”

           “Good to know.”

           Benny looks over her shoulder.  “Borgov’s here.”

           “Yeah, I saw him.”

           Benny senses her hesitation and says, “Don’t worry.  You’re going to beat him.  You’ll beat all of them.”

-----

           The day flies by with one game after another.  Some are challenging, others less so, but by the end, Beth is relieved to head toward her family and get some rest before starting up again the next day. Benny is over by the restaurant, Alma with a piece of baguette in her hand.

           “Where did she even get that?” Beth asks.

           Alma doesn’t answer, her mouth currently full of bread.

           “She just outright asked one of the waiters.  They were so flustered, they just gave it to her.”

           Someone clears their throat behind Beth and she looks over her shoulder, surprised to see Borgov and his wife.  She immediately greets them, shaking his wife’s hand who he introduces as Katarina.

           “It’s very nice to meet you,” Beth says.

           “And you.  I have heard so much about you.”

           Alma steps to her mother’s side, baguette still clutched in her hand, and says, “Hello.  I’m Alma.”

           Borgov smiles warmly down at her.  “Hello Alma.  Tell me, how old are you?”            “I’m five,” Alma says.

           “You are?”  Katarina says pleasantly, crouching down to be at the young girl’s height.  “You look so grown up for five.”

           Alma nods and says, “But I am five.  And a Candyland champion.”

           Borgov chuckles.  “Is that so?”

           “We hold tournaments in our kitchen,” Beth explains with a grin.

           “It’s all very official,” Benny adds.

           Alma looks up at Borgov and asks, “Would you like to play?”

           “Oh, you don’t have to,” Beth says immediately, garnering an accusatory look from her daughter.  But, really, they were at a world chess tournament.  She doubted Borgov had the time or desire to play Candyland against her five-year-old-daughter.  However, much to her surprise, Borgov says, “I would be honored.”

           “Really?” Beth asks curiously.

           Katarina links her arm through her husband’s and says, “How can he say no to a Candyland champion?”

           Before them, Alma beams.

-----

           When Beth packed the Candyland board in their luggage, she never could have imagined that her daughter would be playing against Vasily Borgov.  And yet, here they are, doing exactly that in her hotel room.  Alma has her requisite apple juice, and at the last moment, she insists that Borgov have a glass of water because as she puts it, “You might get thirsty.”

           Borgov tells her this is a very reasonable concern and takes the water.  Alma starts off the game and Beth watches Borgov approach the play with the same sort of intensity that he did with chess.  He draws the cards carefully, moving his gingerbread man deliberately across the squares.  When he is sucked down a cherry hole, the discontent on his face mirrors what she might have seen if someone had captured his Queen.

           Katarina sits down next to Beth and says in a low voice, “It may not look it, but your daughter is really indulging Vasily with this.  He used to play with our son, Sergei, but he’s too old now.”

           “How old is your son again?”

           “Twelve.  He’s just at the age where he wants nothing to do with either of us.”

           The game goes on, and after a particularly serendipitous draw of cards when Alma found herself sidelined in the Molasses Swamp, Borgov picks up his gingerbread man and holds it out to Alma.

           “The game is yours.  Well done.”

           Alma takes the small figurine, smiling wide.

           The next day, Beth beats him, too.

Read the full story HERE!

[halothenthehorns]

THE FOUR CHAMPIONS

"Merlin's shit-"

"I'm going to kill someone-"

"Can't go one bleeding year-"

"Got to be a way he doesn't do this-"

Maybe it was because of the way Harry was acting that hadn't left them so surprised, maybe it was because by this point they were just so sick but unsurprised at Harry being dragged into everything, but whatever it was, they skipped right to angered disbelief and began shouting at once of the injustice of this.

Harry only half-heard something going on around him. It just didn't seem real, and yet it explained what had been bothering him since Percy had brought this up over the summer. He did compete in this bloody Tournament, and something went wrong.

    "-to hell he can't! Just put him back on the train. He can go stay at the Burrow for the year, problem solved!"

"Oh hey, the train," Lily said with a sideways look at her son. He was still running his hand through his hair in a vain attempt at flattening it, his eyes vacant and in no way showing he was following a word of what anyone was saying. When Lily just kept getting odd looks from the others, she got up to sit on the table in front of him, then leaned in close to Harry and tapped him on the shoulder, waiting until he fully looked at her before explaining. "I just thought of a way Hogwarts would have gone to the other schools: They'd have taken the train. It is magical after all, so as long as it was given a destination, the tracks and a station would appear with the train as needed."*

Harry gave his mother a weary smile. Clearly talk of this Tournament wasn't actually making him feel better, but it was still nicer to think of that train going to some other school without him where he wouldn't have even been involved, so he finally engaged her back by saying, "That's pretty cool, but where would the Hogwarts students sleep once they got there? Remus didn't exactly look comfortable when he did." He finished with an attempt at a smile towards him.

Remus returned it at once, the boys finally relaxing when they saw Harry was at least trying to act normal again.

Lily said right back, "Magic, love. Those compartments could easily be converted to mini bedrooms once they arrived. It would actually be easier than squeezing all of Beauxbatons into that carriage."

"About as comfortable and roomy as the Durmstrang boat," James finally agreed.

Sirius was still grumbling foully under his breath, glad that Harry was at least coming back around, but still unable to stop himself from pressing the point he'd been trying to make. "Here's me agreeing, yes that would work, but that's not the point now! Harry shouldn't have to be in this Tournament. Someone set him up, so he should be able to leave school until it's f'ing over!"

Remus sighed, giving him a pitying look as he reminded, "You know as well as I do why that wouldn't work. Magical contracts are binding. You can't just pay a fine when you don't do it. Harry's name would be as bound as the other champions. If he didn't compete, something really bad could happen to him. His magic could be in danger. Merlin, I don't really want to know specifics because no one's ever broken one and lived long enough to say it."

Sirius groaned, raking his hand through his hair so hard in frustration he was likely to pull out a few strands, and didn't care one bit.

They all looked absolutely miserable, just so tired of hearing about Harry's life like this. This Tournament was going to be dangerous. Harry was going to have to deal with even more terrible things than he'd already had to before, and that was saying something!

James' mind kept flickering around, his face purely sour as he tried to come up with something else to say, but what came out wasn't particularly helpful. "You know, I think I'm really starting to hate this holiday."

Harry gave him a surprised look, but before he could even ask he'd continued, "It's apparently the day we're going to die." He only paused for a moment to grimace in disgust at that sentence.

"Your first year you got attacked by a troll-"

"But that's the day Hermione and I became friends," Harry reminded, "so I'm rather fond of that memory."

"No, I agree with your father." Lily huffed, ignoring the fact she'd always liked this holiday as her and James' anniversary for their first date. Now didn't seem the time to indulge this. "Because it also happens to be that same day Mrs. Norris was attacked, and that awful Chamber mess happened."

"Plus that was the day Sirius apparently lost his marbles," Remus added.

Sirius simply shrugged, having nothing to add to that but "agreed, this holiday sucks."

Harry really couldn't disagree that he didn't seem to have a very good track record for this particular day of the year. Still, looking around at all of them, he couldn't resist a smile either. For some reason the mention of Hermione had made his mind want to flicker to something else, like he should be angry, but not at her, maybe one of his friends though? What would Ron and Hermione do that could actually make this feeling worse? It was such a contrast to watching his family now, so outraged on his behalf they were all clearly stewing and trying to come up with some way to get him out of this.

Still though, Lily did marginally relax as she watched her son regain his normal composure. Sadly this only kicked up her anger at the situation another degree. She got to her feet and began pacing the length of the couch as she stormed. "I still want to know how the bloody hell this happened to him! How did his name even get put in? Someone had to have done this to him! And why!? What on earth could be the point of doing this to him!?"

"My money's on Moody," Sirius smirked.

Harry only had the smallest moment to glance in surprise at his Godfather, opening his mouth with that old look of something flickering in his eyes, when James snorted, giving him a sideways look as he told him, "You know, sometimes I think your jokes are actually your mind trying to warn the rest of us how crazy you are."

Sirius' grin widened. Of course he didn't mean it of the head Auror, even if he was retired now, but it was making him feel better to at least pretend this was a joking situation. "Well, look at it this way: every single DADA teacher Harry's had has had some interest in Harry. It's definitely in Moody's capability to pull off a stunt like this."

Lily just sighed before saying, "Can someone offer up a real solution before he starts accusing Ron next?"

"Oi!" Sirius pouted, but didn't argue the point, recognizing he wasn't making anyone else feel better by his picking.

At least Sirius' fun had turned off the harder question Lily asked, why would someone do this to Harry. It wasn't hard to think up the reason. Their boy seemed to have more enemies than friends it felt like, but it didn't really help them to start listing them. Top of their list was Voldemort, and by extension any Death Eater he had at his availability. True, they only knew of one at the time, but he was off somewhere else, scheming something else. That did leave the nasty suspicion they had that there were two current Death Eaters around Harry at school, but as much as they hated Snape, and had a very growing dislike for all the suspicions they already had about Karkaroff, it was mind blowing to think either of them could pull this off under Dumbledore's nose.

Their opinion of the Headmaster was at an all time low considering everything they suspected, and basically knew even if they weren't there to see it all, involving his hand in Sirius' jail time. Still, that was the outside world, this was his bleeding school! He should be able to have stopped this from happening!

They had no answers, and no one to ask.

Considering Lily had thrown the book to the ground and kicked it into the wall in her temper to take her shock and hatred of this situation out on something, James had to walk across the room to go and fetch the book. None of them had even marginally calmed down, but they did come to the same realization James had. This had already happened to Harry, he had lived through whatever they were fixing to find out, and that was the most important thing to them. Whatever came next, Harry had survived.

James tried his best to steady his breathing so that when he found his right spot, he didn't keep screaming bloody murder about this. It was best he didn't anyways, because even in their shouting, Remus was the only one who hadn't gotten up in his outrage, still too sore and curled up into the chair with a very fussy baby now. His infant son's agitated whining at this mess only accented how the rest of them were feeling though, so it wasn't exactly as calm an environment as he was trying for as he began.

Harry just sat there with every eye in the hall on him, convinced he'd heard wrong.

"I feel like everyone in the hall wouldn't be looking at you if that were true," Remus grumbled low enough Harry couldn't hear.

There was no applause.

Sirius made a breathy noise, like he wanted to laugh at Harry's expense for that but he couldn't really get it out.

Instead a buzzing, unpleasant, noise was growing. McGonagall reacted first, getting to her feet and sprinting to Dumbledore's side to whisper something in his ear.

"I can only imagine what she's got to say about this," James sighed.

"Hopefully something along the lines of, I know the perfect solution of how to get him out of this," Lily huffed.

Harry turned to face his two friends, telling them he hadn't done this.

Harry sighed with pure misery. Somehow he just knew that was going to pop up a lot. It didn't make him feel any better that saying this to his two friends gave him an aching feeling, like one of them wouldn't even believe him. That couldn't possibly be true, right?

Neither answered.

At the staff table, Dumbledore repeated Harry's name, telling him to come up there. Hermione had to give him a push to get him to move.

"I'd need more than a push to get my behind up there," Remus shuddered.

Harry got to his feet, feeling wooden all over as he stumbled between the wide eyes of the Gryffindors and the stone faces of the Hufflepuffs. It seemed to take forever as he came forward, feeling like a spotlight was on him the whole time.

Lily sighed deeply, shifting in her place and having to stop herself going over to her son, snapping at anyone for staring too long. This wasn't his fault!

The buzzing kept growing louder as every eye in the room wouldn't look away from him.

He finally approached Dumbledore, who continued by telling Harry to go through the door like the others had.

"Honestly, this is one time I wanted him to get special treatment, put him somewhere else, like the train home," James ground out. He didn't care how bad of an idea it was logically, he wanted someone to do something other than just stare at his boy!

He wasn't smiling.

"Be a little more worried if he was," Sirius mumbled.

Harry kept going, edging around until he passed Hagrid, who neither waved nor gave any of his usual greetings as he too stared at Harry the whole way.

Harry was getting more despondent the longer this kept going, remembering all of those shocked faces and just wanting to scream that he hadn't done anything.

His face looked as astonished as everyone's.

"Anyone want to place bets on when this is going to wear off?" James moaned, just trying to say something that didn't depress him for just a second, though it clearly didn't work when everyone else ignored him.

Finally Harry passed through the door to see the three champions in a small circular room, covered with portraits over a fire. Harry found them imposing in the firelight.

Lily had her hair wrapped so tightly around one finger it was beginning to hurt, but she didn't release the strands, just kept pulling harder in agitation of picturing her Hare Bare having to go through all of this.

Fleur was the first to notice him, asking if he was there to tell them to come back into the hall?

"No, they wanted to make sure Hogwarts' mascot got shoved into this bloodbath as well," Sirius growled. All four of them looked at him like they were really going to do more than smack him this time, but when Sirius put his hands up in surrender meaning he regretted his own joke, no one acted on it, no matter how much they wanted to.

She thought Harry was there to give a message, but Harry couldn't come up with a way to answer.

"I still don't either honestly," Remus snapped.

He simply stood there, watching them, as it occurred to him how much taller they were.

Sirius plugged his nose to stop a snort of laughter, knowing he'd have loved to pick on both Harry and James for that any other time as they were usually on the shorter side even when they were the same age as those around them, but knew he couldn't have gotten away with it. Still, he regretted his missed opportunity the moment it passed, because no matter how stressed they all were for this, some humor really would have done them good for even a moment.

The first person to enter behind them was Bagman, who came bouncing in and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him farther into the room as he exclaimed how extraordinary this was.

"NO!" Lily snapped at once. "I do not care for one second what the bloody hell you think is going on, but this is not extraordinary or anything else! My son-" she strangled herself off, her cheeks puffing up with indignation but clearly trying to hold off another shouting fit that this was Bagman's first reaction!

The others didn't look any better, Sirius in particular looked like he'd been smacked. What was Bagman playing at, trying to make this look like a good thing? Everyone should be trying to work on a way to get him out of this!

Turning to the other champions and shouting about how they had a fourth champion!

Lily couldn't seem to stop herself constantly uttering the word 'no' under her breath, and didn't seem likely to stop until something else happened.

Remus gave an exhausted sigh at that declaration, still trying to work out in his head how this had been done. That Goblet was one of the oldest of magical items. It would take something really powerful for it to have broken and spit out four champions. The question of who on earth could have pulled this off was still open ended, though, as they had no actual suspects.

Krum and Cedric looked more surprised, though hardly reactive. Fleur, though, gave her hair a toss and began laughing, saying Bagman had made a good joke.

"I wish," Sirius sighed, though even he'd admit this was never funny to begin with.

Bagman was shocked, saying this was no laughing matter. Harry's name had just come out of the Goblet. Krum and Cedric's expression continued growing more confused,

"I almost envy the reaction," James groused.

while Fleur frowned telling him there must be some mistake.

"Well, she's got that one right," they all agreed.

Harry couldn't compete, he was too young.

"Ironically, that was only a rule this time around," Lily sighed, "and still not my biggest problem."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise, the first time he'd actually tried to speak to any of them since his name had come out, so though Lily didn't look happy she explained.

"I know you can handle a lot love, I've seen that proven time and again. No, what I, we," she quickly corrected since all of the boys housed the same face she did, "are so mad about is that you didn't volunteer for this. If you had, well, I can't say I'd be pleased, but, Merlin help it, I can't pretend you haven't dealt with this dangerous mess before. It would have been your decision at least. No, the fact that someone put your name in, forcing you to do this, that's why I'm going to be putting someone in their place," she finished with a dangerous flash to those green eyes.

Harry looked around in surprise, but when he saw nothing but agreement from the others, he felt a flash of warmth finally chase away that cold dread. No, he still wasn't happy about this situation he'd landed in one little bit, but the absolute fact that his parents were so infuriated on his behalf, not because they hadn't a shadow of a doubt he could handle this, but because he'd been forced into this, left him feeling almost giddy.

James couldn't stop himself from smiling just a bit as he kept going now. At least his son finally looked almost back to normal now.

Bagman agreed this was amazing, but since the age restriction had only been put in place this year it should be overlooked. The Goblet had used his name, there was no ducking out.

"Please stop saying that, though," Sirius pouted, not really exaggerating it much as he continued. "The point is, he shouldn't have to do this!"

"Where's Dumbledore?" Remus agreed with a heavy sigh. "Maybe he could, I don't know, if the Goblet was tricked once, can't it be convinced again to take his name back, or something?!"

"You let us know if you figure it out," James huffed.

It was all down in the rules, he was obliged

"If you put your name in," Lily stressed the word "you" for emphasis like she was speaking to a two year old. "Harry didn't, so he isn't obliged to do anything."

"I think it's moments like this where I hate magic," Harry agreed.

to do so and just do his best!

He was cut off by the entrance of Dumbledore, Crouch, Karkaroff, Maxime, McGonagall, and Snape.

"Why is Snape there?!" Sirius fired up at once, finally having something else to put his temper on. "Everyone else, I don't care, but, bloody hell, can he just not be there for one second!? He has no part of anything going on. Merlin, he'll probably start a cheer squad for this happening to my pup!"

"Malfoy'll be captain of that," James agreed just to finish the joke. He couldn't muster up an ounce of humor for it though.

Harry could still hear the noise coming from the Great Hall before McGonagall shut the door, and Fleur darted to her headmistress at once, telling her that they were going on about this little boy competing with them!

Harry finally felt something other than numbness, anger. Little boy?

"Oh, that's what got through to you, then?" Remus asked mildly.

"You want to insult a boy, you start calling him little," Lily agreed with an almost amused smile, which increased to actual laughter when indeed every boy in the room looked agitated at her.

Maxime drew herself up to her full height,

"I can believe how scary that is," James nodded absently.

her head brushing the ceiling as she swelled at Dumbledore what the meaning of this was?

Karkaroff said that he'd like an answer for this as well, two Hogwarts champions? There was nothing about that in the rules, or had he not read them properly? Giving a cruel laugh at the end.

"Guess people really will be calling Hogwarts biased now." Harry rolled his eyes, thinking back when this had just been a recurring joke, he'd never expected this as an end result.

Maxime agreed there was nothing saying Hogwarts would have two champions, it was unjust!

"Agreed," all five of them muttered.

Karkaroff added on that the age had restricted them bringing more from their schools.

"Yeah, I feel like you only would have brought one if you could get away with it." Sirius rolled his eyes.

Snape said his due, saying it was Potter's own fault.

Lily's hand twitched, her face so murderous in that moment the others had to fight down the urge to duck as she looked likely to draw her wand and do something irreparable to Snape for saying that. She was as sick and tired of hearing about him as the others, seeming to regret every moment she'd ever stood up for him previously as she could no longer even think about him without wanting to scream in his face for starters.

James felt the exact same way, the murdering part as he'd never pretend to stand up for Snivellus if his life depended on it, but he kept going with only the faintest hope Dumbledore would kick his slimy butt out of there before he could keep going long.

Saying it wasn't Dumbledore's fault Potter had decided to break the rules, he'd been doing that since he arrived here-

Dumbledore cut him off.

James looked so furious by the time Dumbledore had cut in, Sirius and Remus decided Snape should be lucky James hadn't ever managed to find some way to take a limb off in school, because he'd clearly do it now.

Then he turned to Harry and calmly asked if he'd put his name in the Goblet of Fire?

"Least Dumbledore didn't lose his temper on this," Remus huffed.

"I've never seen Dumbledore lose his temper over anything," Sirius sighed. "It'd be really weird to even picture it."**

Harry said no at once, while Snape made a soft noise of disbelief in the shadows.

Lily made a murderous noise of disbelief in plain view for everyone to see.

Dumbledore, ignoring Snape, then asked if he'd asked one of the older students to do it for him?

"Would that work?" Harry asked in shock. That was an even simpler solution than the Aging Potion.

"I, well sort of, I can kind of picture it at least," Remus said with crossed eyes. "If the Goblet works so that it takes the essence of the person who put the paper in, well it would be absorbing the person, not the name on the slip. So if another person wrote Harry's name down, and the Goblet accepted that name to go with the person who put it in, well I couldn't see why this wouldn't work."

"You'd really have to work on an older student to convince them to give up their chance for you," Sirius agreed in tones showing how impossible that scenario would be.***

"What about a Polyjuice Potion then?" Harry asked. "You'd turn into someone physically old enough."

"If Dumbledore had the thought to set up against an Aging Potion, he'd most likely have done it against all Potions. If you had one in your system, I don't think you could get through," Lily explained.

"Problem is," James ruffled up his brow as he sorted through this, "what would be the point? No one would do that as a joke, because anyone who put their name in would want their own go at it."

"No one was suggesting this as a prank," Lily muttered with pure mutiny.

"Oh, he knows," Sirius sighed. "No one here's pretending a student is powerful enough to do this to the Goblet. Even Hermione couldn't get away with that. No, it would have to be someone at Dumbledore's level of magical power, and how someone managed to do that without Dumbledore realizing is still what's getting to me."

Harry sighed. Clearly they were as lost as he on that front, so he kept at the other thing instead, at least that didn't explicitly have to do with him. "But now I'm really thinking about this, couldn't a whole school do that as a form of cheating? What if every single Durmstrang student just put down Krum's name, that way the Goblet would have no choice but to shoot out that name?" His frown increased as he jumped to, "what if it wasn't the Goblet that was magicked, but every person at Hogwarts who just thought they were putting their own name, but really put mine? Though," he quickly amended when he could sense how wrong that was even without letting the others deny this, "I guess that would be just as hard to pull off around Dumbledore."

"And wouldn't explain how Cedric got in, and a fourth name came out," James agreed gently. Still, they were all happy to at least have seen him try. It was good to see him trying to throw those kinds of things out there, as it meant he wasn't solely trying to rely on his mind for answers anymore, which only ever led to hurting him.

Again Harry said no, and Maxime said he was lying at once, while a shake of Snape's head showed he agreed with her.

"I am going to rip his head off," Sirius said sincerely.

McGonagall stepped in, saying Harry couldn't have crossed the age line, while Maxime pointed out Dumbledore must have made a mistake.

"Now she's just being ridiculous." Remus rolled his eyes. "We've seen an abundance of evidence it's stopped a number of students, so why on earth could Harry get around that?"

"Can someone please stop blaming Harry and instead get to how he doesn't have to do this?" James agreed.

Dumbledore agreed this could be a factor, while McGonagall told them all they were being ridiculous. Harry couldn't have crossed that line, and if Dumbledore says he believes him that should be good enough for everyone!

"Thank you, McGonagall!" Lily nodded sharply, happy at least someone was around to keep these idiots in their place.

She shot a very angry look at Snape.

"Well deserved, that," Sirius nodded along.

Karkaroff turned to Bagman and Crouch then, saying they were supposed to be the objective judges, and they had to admit this was irregular.

"Oh, no one's arguing this is irregular," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Bagman still had a smile on his face, while Crouch had been standing silently in the shadows this whole time.

"Actually more surprised he hasn't spoken up by now," Lily said briskly. "Put his bleeding opinion out in the open of all of this."

He looked ghastly in the dying light, but he spoke in his usual curt tone as he said the rules must be followed. The Goblet of Fire had chosen him, so he was now bound for the Tournament.

"No!" Lily snapped again, sick of this being everyone's go-to answer. She was seconds away from getting to her feet and stomping her way to Crouch's house and telling him off next. "You find a bleeding loophole and get him out of this!"

"If there's a way around getting an underage student into the Goblet, there should be a way to get him out of it," James agreed in seething tones.

"It was a rule an underage student shouldn't be in," Remus agreed with an ugly look in place, "but then again, isn't Crouch the one who decides what rules should and shouldn't be followed?"

Harry looked at him in surprise at this. Clearly something had just gone over his head, but even though James agreed he didn't notice Harry and instead kept going.

Bagman seemed to decide that made the matter closed while giving a charming smile to everyone.

"I do not like him anymore," Sirius growled, any shine gone to be replaced by a murderous growl in his voice. Quidditch player be damned, no one should be in a good mood while this was happening to Harry.

Karkaroff insisted this wasn't right. He wanted all the names of the students resubmitted until all the schools were even!

Lily opened, then closed her mouth, shutting her eyes for a moment before opening them and saying "actually, that seems fair."

"Wish I could say otherwise," James sighed, "but the man's got a point."

"That doesn't solve our problem," Remus sighed, keeping the baby in his lap as close to his chest as he could like he feared someone was going to wrench him away any second and throw him into this Tournament. "Harry's still stuck in the bleeding middle of this, but it might take some of the heat off of him if they do pull that off."

No one looked remotely happy, but if this was the solution that everyone ended up coming to, it would have the benefit of Harry not being the sole attention anymore at least somewhat.

Bagman reminded the Goblet had gone out, and it would not reignite until the start of the next Tournament.

"So tell it to do otherwise!" Sirius snapped in outrage. "It's a magical object, use some f'ing magic on it and get it to do what it's told!"

Karkaroff exploded at them all, saying Durmstrang would take no part of this! He was tempted to just leave now!

"You know it's sad when I can't even say he's not wrong," Lily moaned into her hands, pressing her face so tight into them in frustration she was leaving nail marks on her forehead. "I'd be just as bleeding pissed if this was happening from another school."

A new voice told Karkaroff how stupid that was, leaving his champion. They've all got to compete, which was convenient.

"Now why couldn't this one have been here this whole time instead of Snape?" James huffed, thankful someone else had stepped in, hoping against hope whoever would find a way out of this for his son.

Moody had come in, while Karkaroff turned nasty eyes on him and told him no one understood why this was convenient.

"Pretty sure he's saying what none of us want to hear," Lily mumbled, still not removing her face, her curtain of red hair hiding most of the act, and she didn't look likely to move until her Hare Bare was pulled out of this.

Moody told that it was obvious, someone put Potter's name in so he would have to compete.

Maxime exclaimed it was so Hogwarts could have two bites at the apple, and Karkaroff agreed with her: he'd be lodging complaints against everything he could.

"And a number of other things, which do absolutely no good," Sirius rolled his eyes in pure contempt. "If I could have a go at the Goblet, I'd be doing it now as well."

Moody reminded if anyone should be complaining, it was Potter, but he'd stayed quiet.

"He's actually got a point there," Remus raised a brow at him. "You haven't spoken a word."

"I kept hoping someone would find a way to get me out of this." Harry shrugged, choosing not to add on he hardly ever liked speaking when adults were around discussing him, probably one too many years of the Dursleys had put that into him. They always somehow managed to make it clear if Harry's name was in the conversation he should keep his mouth shut, not that they ever included him in any other discussion either. "Besides," he finished out loud to get rid of his trailing thoughts, "couldn't think up anything to say. I hadn't done anything."

Fleur bit back he was the last person who would complain, he was getting the chance many would die for!

"Oh, please don't say that," Lily sighed, finally raising her head to give a stank eye at the book. This French girl continued to agitate her the longer she spoke.

Moody agreed maybe Harry's death was the end game here.

"That's why I didn't want her to say that," she snarled when James got that out looking more than a little sick after doing so.

Sadly, they'd already realized this, but with any luck maybe Moody would suggest someone who could have done this to Harry they hadn't thought of.

Silence rung in the room. Bagman lost some of his good mood

"Finally an expression that doesn't read, 'oh this is brilliant!'" Sirius snorted.

while he bounced on his heels in unease as he told Moody off for saying that.

"Oh, how I wish he was wrong," Lily hissed.

Karkaroff reminded Moody hadn't made his day until he found six attempts on his life.

"And how do you spend your mornings?" James snarled. Moody and McGonagall were the only ones sticking up for his son so far. He wasn't going to let someone have a go at them without returning. "In fact, maybe you should start that practice!"

He was clearly imagining things. Moody glowered at him, reminding that it took someone with more skill than a fourteen year old to do this to the Goblet.

Maxime demanded what evidence he had of that?

"Logic," Remus raised a brow.

"Common sense," Sirius agreed with a sigh.

"Something any adept person would know," James sniffed.

Moody reminded how it must have taken a powerful wizard to Confound the Goblet into thinking there were four Champions, and put Harry's name down as the only entrance from an extra school.

Karkaroff told Moody he'd thought this through quite well,

Harry felt something just as cold trickling towards his stomach, for the first time wondering on Karkaroff, at what he'd said...and for an inexplicable reason going back to Sirius' earlier joke of who'd done this to him...

and while it was smart, last he'd heard Moody had taken a birthday gift and broken it in fear it was poisoned, so he should forgive them all for not taking him seriously.

"I'd be worried if you did treat him like me," Sirius agreed with an ingenious smirk in his opinion, and when Harry snapped out of whatever that face was and laughed, it was worth it.

Moody reminded it was his job to think like Dark wizards, Karkaroff should remember that.

"Well, there's our proof, as if we needed any more," James sighed. "Karkaroff was, or is, I guess, depending on what time we're talking about, a Death Eater."

"Never heard of him before, though," Remus gave an absent shrug, "so either he's not very high in the ranks, or hasn't joined yet."

"Or we've gotten a spot more dodgy information," Sirius scowled, for the first time really thinking past that rat's betrayal and jumping on the fact that it wasn't just James and Lily he'd got killed. How many more people would that rat get murdered for Voldemort, how soon until he started telling Death Eaters their plans instead of them figuring out theirs?

The others were confident they knew where Sirius' mind had gone, but they were already in a foul enough mood without something else like this being brought up just now, so no one asked him for details.

Dumbledore gave a warning to Alastor, and it took a moment for Harry to realize who he was speaking to.

That managed to snap James onto something far more pleasant at least, as he began giggling at once, managing to get out, "It took you how many months-" before he broke off into a bit more chuckling.

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but none of them had seen that eye in person. If they had, they wouldn't have questioned him using that as a name either.

Then again, Mad-Eye could hardly be his real first name.

"Oh, but it would have been so much more interesting if it was," Lily agreed mildly.

Moody stopped speaking, though he still kept a distasteful eye on Karkaroff's hateful one.

Dumbledore continued speaking, saying that however this happened, it didn't appear they had another choice but to accept it.

"NO!" Lily snarled in outrage, this time joined in by everyone else as Harry watched. It was his mother, though, who kept going in a full-blown, no-longer-able-to-bottle-it-up tangent as she really did get to her feet, pacing the length of the room in a towering outrage. "I am so bleeding sick of seeing him just saying, okay, Harry's going off to do this insane thing, let's see what happens!"

Remus opened, then closed his mouth as he couldn't come up with an argument for that. The only time he may have tried for some defense was in Harry's second year when Dumbledore hadn't even been around there at the end, but even still with that odd advice he'd given indicating he'd known Harry was around, he hadn't offered words of caution trying to deter Harry. He'd instead said the very thing Harry had repeated in calling Dumbledore's bird to him. Coincidence? Maybe, but as this was the fourth time it felt like Dumbledore was in no way hindering any of this happening to Harry, he couldn't really believe it as much anymore.

James and Sirius exchanged a look that spoke volumes, but honestly felt the exact same way as the other two. Dumbledore had abandoned Sirius when he needed him most, and they'd never forgive him for that. They even suspected he had a hand in convincing Remus Sirius had done all of those terrible things. He was the only one who could have done such a thing to make Remus think the worst of Sirius.

Harry felt something crumbling inside him, though he realized it was already cracked beyond repair anyways. This was just more coming out. He knew in his younger years he'd believed Dumbledore could do anything, but now because of last year, and now this, he knew that illusion would never come back.

Still, James kept going, which did not make one beat of Lily's pacing skip. She kept stalking back and forth, wearing out the carpet like that would somehow help.

Both Cedric and Harry would have to do this.

Maxime tried to cut in, but Dumbledore said if anyone had an alternative, he'd love to hear it.

"That's true," James grumbled. "Everyone else has been doing nothing but complaining, but I haven't seen one bleeding person actually trying to offer up a solution."

Silence. Everyone was now glaring at Dumbledore, except Bagman, who gathered his excited nature back.

Sirius started grinding his teeth to fight back the urge to snarl a few more death threats at someone he never believed he'd direct them at.

He decided it was time to move forward, asking Barty if he'd like the honor of telling the champions what they would be up to first. Crouch seemed to come back to life at being spoken to.

"What's got him so distracted?" Lily raised a brow in surprise, finally stalking to her seat, though it wasn't making the situation any better. "What on earth could be going on that's demanding more of his attention than this?"

Harry sighed, that old feeling returning, making him sure that he knew an answer at some point, and he wasn't too eager to learn this one.

The longer Harry watched him, he noticed that his skin looked unhealthy and far more wrinkled than it had at the Cup.

"I would feel bad for him," Remus sniffed, "if he deserved it. It's his own fault for firing his help and acting like a prick to everyone he doesn't deem worthy."

His voice was as crisp as ever as he told the four of them, the first task was to test their daring,

All five of them gave a few terrible mutterings, still wishing more than anything Harry's name wasn't in that, that they could be hearing about this like Harry should be through the rest of the school amongst rumors and in the stands. Now they were going to have to hear what the Triwizard decided daring was, and Harry would be in the middle.

as it was important for a wizard to face courage in the unknown.

"Well, Ron was right," Harry huffed without a trace of humor. "I've lived that part."

None of them looked remotely pleased about it.

He gave the date of when this would be happening, and that it would take place in front of the panel of judges. The champions were not to ask for help from anyone regarding anything during the Tournament.

"Right, I can see that happening." Remus rolled his eyes.

They would go into this first task with only their wands,

"As opposed to the other challenges? Are they going to take their wands away?" Sirius rolled his eyes, though he shuddered at the thought, not even wanting to imagine that kind of horror.

and they would receive further instructs on the second task after the first. Also, all champions were exempt from the end-of-year finals.

"Finally, the bright side," James sighed, sounding like that was still the worst news in the world. He'd give anything for Harry to be taking those stupid exams rather than this!

"Well, how does that work though?" Harry asked. "Everyone else would be in seventh year. They'd have to take their N. E. W. T. s, right?"

"I feel like winning the Triwizard Tournament is your job application." Sirius rolled his eyes, and Harry realized he wasn't really kidding. With the amount of fame and prize money this came with, it really wouldn't be difficult to find a job with those standards behind you, and you had plenty of time to look.

He turned to Dumbledore to indicate he was finished, and Dumbledore kept watching him with concern.

"Guess he really does look bad." Lily rolled her eyes, unable to find it in herself to actually feel anything for it. It felt like compensation for some of the more ruthless laws he'd been passing of late finally catching up to him.

He asked if Barty would like to stay the night at Hogwarts, but Crouch declined, saying he was too busy. He'd left Weatherby in charge,

Sirius finally managed a real smile this chapter, sad that he couldn't do more at that joke.

and while he was enthusiastic, he may be a little overtly so in this case.

"Didn't know there was such a thing," Lily said, still more grimly than with any amount of humor, but at least they were trying again.

"If there was, Percy would hit it." Remus attempted a smirk.

Dumbledore asked if he'd at least like to have a drink, and Bagman jumped in saying Barty was being ridiculous! Everything was happening at Hogwarts. What could be more exciting than that? Crouch gained some of his impatience back as he told Ludo he would not indulge this.

"Good to know he's not too sick." James rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore offered to have a drink with the other two heads of the schools, but Maxime and Fleur stalked out,

"Can't even blame them," Harry sighed.

into the now silent Great Hall, speaking in French.

"Don't need a translation for that," Remus grumbled.

Karkaroff summoned Krum to him, and they left as well, though in silence.

"Krum didn't say a word during that," Sirius realized in surprise, somehow actually thankful at least one of his Quidditch fascinations this year hadn't managed to tick him off yet.

"You'd think he'd be just as outraged as Fleur," James nodded in agreement.

"He was making a lot of the same faces as Cedric," Harry shrugged, "switching between surprise and confusion. Maybe some contempt in there."

Dumbledore turned to Cedric and Harry, telling them to get off to bed, now smiling at the two.

"I still want to strangle him with his own beard," Lily snarled. "Smiling at a time like this, can't someone at least pretend to be upset!"

"I think we're doing that enough for all of them, love," James sighed.

Reminding that their respective houses would want to be celebrating this.

The two left, and only when they made it to the Entrance Hall did Cedric point out that they'd be playing against each other again.

"I'd listen to a hundred Quidditch matches over this," Lily groused.

Harry agreed, his mind not on the conversation, though. Cedric did catch his attention as he asked how Harry had pulled it off.

"If Harry didn't tell them, what the bloody hell makes him think he'd admit it to him?" Sirius snapped.

"He's not any more special than those arse wipes," James agreed.

Harry gave a mild frown at them both, finally understanding why he would have felt so agitated at Cedric this year, as he was sure once the shock wore off, he'd look at Cedric as a rival again. It still didn't explain that other feeling, this want to defend him and not hear a bad word against him. Considering the last time he'd felt this was towards Dobby, and he'd made a few attempts at making Harry's life hell, he didn't feel like sharing that this time.

Harry insisted he hadn't, and Cedric clearly didn't believe him for a second.

Any feelings he would have anyways slipped away at once as his lip sneered in protest along with the others, outraged at once no one believed Harry about this!

He walked off towards the Hufflepuff common room then, and Harry was left to climb the stairs in silence. Was anyone going to believe him except Ron and Hermione?

Harry's breath released in a sudden rasp, looking like someone had just kicked him when he was down. They all thought it was just lingering agitation at what Harry was thinking, though. Even Harry himself had no idea why he'd felt anything for that.

Harry found the idea ridiculous. Why would he want to go up against those who had three years of magical learning over him? Sure he'd fantasized about entering,

"So did every other person at that school," Remus snapped, "and if they say otherwise, they're bleeding liars."

but he hadn't really meant it, he was never serious about entering.

"I'd be a little more concerned if you did think I'd enter," Sirius said at once, none of his usual humor in his favorite joke, but meeting Harry's eyes anyways with a spark of amusement nonetheless.

Harry managed a sour-filled smile for him, but not because the joke had quite worn off yet. He was just a little too distracted still to really give the laugh.

Someone had done it to him, though, and he got the feeling it wasn't meant as a treat.

"If someone really thinks that, they need a dictionary," Lily scowled.

To watch him make a fool of himself? They'd get their wish.

"Now, I don't think that's really all fair," Sirius sighed, still trying his hardest to get a smile going. "Give yourself some credit."

"No," Harry said back, deadpan.

To get him killed? Was Moody just being his paranoid self,

"So far, I think he's actually been the perfect amount of paranoid," James said with a shrug.

did someone really want him dead?

"I hate that I know the answer to that," Remus scowled.

Well, yes, Voldemort certainly did, but he wasn't anywhere near Harry. He was in hiding, feeble and powerless.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Lily murmured, shrinking just a little closer to Remus and her son.

Yet when Harry had dreamed about him, Voldemort hadn't been alone, he'd been with Wormtail, plotting Harry's murder.

"Thank you, because I hadn't remembered that recently," Sirius scoffed, his too-dark eyes still trying to keep Harry's, to show he didn't really blame his pup for thinking about this.

Harry was shocked to find himself in front of his portrait hole, and that the Fat Lady wasn't alone. Harry recognized the wizened old witch next to her as one of the ones from the portraits in the room downstairs.

"The portraits are the biggest gossips in that school," James muttered randomly, his mind happily latching onto anything old and familiar.

She must have run all the way up here to beat Harry. The Fat Lady looked down at Harry, asking if it was true he really was a champion? Harry replied Balderdash, and the other painting shouted it wasn't a lie!

"Timing," Remus rolled his eyes, missing the time where he would have laughed at the fortune of this password happening in relation to this.

The Gryffindor guardian eased her friend this was merely the entrance word before opening. The noise she opened up to was deafening, as seemingly every member of his house reached forward and pulled Harry in to congratulate him, the twins getting there first as they told Harry he should have said something about entering, looking half annoyed and half impressed.

Sirius groaned into his hands, wanting to laugh along with the twins like he always had, but wanting to smack them a good one for not giving Harry a chance to explain himself because he hadn't done this.

Everyone else was the same. They'd procured food, and kept trying to force it on Harry, despite Harry trying to say he wasn't hungry, and in no mood to be celebrating.

"Never thought a celebration would depress me so much," Remus grumbled.

Lee Jordan had found a Gryffindor banner somewhere and had decided to tie it around Harry's shoulders, all of them asking how he'd gotten over that Age Line.

"And not one bleeding one of them got the picture that you hadn't," Lily seethed, wishing Harry would shout it in someone's face already. He was so clearly upset and frustrated by this.

He kept saying over and over that he hadn't done it, but for all the notice he got he may as well not have answered.

James was opening and closing his mouth, clearly having reached the level of too outraged to speak on his son's behalf anymore, so forced himself to keep going in hopes Harry would just leave.

He began shouting at George that he was serious,

"No, I am," Sirius muttered under his breath, more out of obligation than anything at this point.

he just wanted to go to bed! He nearly knocked some of the younger kids over as he finally bolted up the stairs.

"About bleeding time," Sirius huffed. "Where were Ron and Hermione in that mess? They should have been there to at least try and keep that horde off of you!"

Harry didn't answer, and he was getting the ever growing feeling he wouldn't like it when he got one.

He went into his dormitory to find Ron laid out on his bed, and as Harry entered, Ron said hello.

"That's his response?" Remus rolled his eyes. "Hello?! I would have thought he and Hermione had rehearsed another conversation to try and calm him down!"

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin.

"What?!" Lily balked, sure she'd heard him wrong.

James didn't answer though, didn't even glance up as he kept staring down at the pages, getting a very bad feeling about this...

Harry realized he still had that banner on, and struggled for a few minutes to remove it with Ron simply watching.

"Awkward silence," Sirius muttered into the room, which had somehow joined the same atmosphere.

When Harry kicked it back out of the room, Ron told him congratulations.

"Please tell me he was being sarcastic," Remus demanded, a furious glint lighting his eyes. "I am begging you to tell me, James, that there was some sarcasm in there."

James did not respond, his face going slack and pale the more words he kept pressing out.

Harry demanded what Ron meant, watching that grin become more of a grimace. Ron explained he was congratulating him getting over that Age Line, and asked how he'd done it? The Invisibility Cloak?

"Why would he, what-" Lily tried to stammer out, her face growing steadily more red the more she couldn't snap out a question.

Harry reminded him the cloak wouldn't work. Ron accepted that, adding on that he would have expected Harry to tell him if that were it, because both of them could have fit under the cloak, but Harry must have found some way to do it!

"He would have told you if he had!" Sirius howled in outrage, the shock finally wearing off, and he began trembling with rage. "How can Ron, of all people, think you'd done this! He's not heard a word from you, and he's really saying you did this!"

Harry's mouth was left hanging open, the expression of mingled fury and disbelief still not quite covering the hurt that was quickly rising. Something had been trying to warn him of this, but even with it resurfacing clear as day, Harry didn't want to believe it. He'd always known Ron had some jealousy issues, but this?! He now couldn't decide what hurt worse, someone putting his name in the tournament, or his best friend treating him like this because of it.

Harry said, again, he hadn't done this, someone had done it to him. Ron just raised his brows at him, asking why would someone do that? Harry felt like it would be too melodramatic to say 'to kill me.'

"Sadly, I can believe it's accurate," Lily hissed.

Ron's look did not change as he told Harry he could tell him the truth, it's not like he was going to get in trouble so there was no need to lie.

"I wouldn't tell him the truth now if he begged me," Remus sneered with as much fuel as he could. "Not the way he's acting."

Dumbledore was letting him play, Violet the portrait had told them all.

"Letting him," James repeated crossly, his voice still coming out too quietly, though. He hadn't quite seemed to get past his own disbelief at the situation yet and was still floored on that.

Harry now shouted back he hadn't put his name in!

"Oh, I'm long since past angry," Sirius growled, entirely sick of this whole bleeding school treating Harry like this, now someone who'd supposedly been a friend had joined in.

Ron believed that as much as Cedric, and everyone else, reminding how Harry had said last night he'd find a way to put his name in when no one was watching.

"And you once thought you could turn a rat yellow with a spell a three year old knew wasn't real. You don't see him holding that against you!" Lily half shouted, a muscle going off in her jaw she didn't seem aware of.

Reminding he wasn't stupid.

"Could have fooled me," Remus snarled.

Harry told him he was doing a really good job of proving otherwise. Ron wasn't even pretending anymore, telling Harry he should get to bed for his big photo shoot tomorrow!

Remus made a noise of pure outrage. He hadn't believed he could be more disgusted with the situation Harry was in, and here was Ron of all people proving him otherwise! The baby in his arms began fussing, and Remus was having a very hard time settling him back down when he couldn't even pretend at that emotion himself anymore.

He pulled the hangings of his bed shut around him, and Harry was left staring at a shadow of one of the few people he'd been sure would believe him.

James slammed the book shut with a sharp snap.

HPHPHPHP

*A lot of you suggested the train as an option, so I'm not going to single any one person out because I loved them all so much, but thanks again for the offer. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what a cool idea it was! Sorry if I came across as a jerk to anyone for my initial turn down of it to anyone.

**Come on, you know I had to make a joke about that.

***This and one other are thrown around all the time to kingdom come about a plot hole in the series, and I'm sure you all know what the other is and I'm already working on a far better explanation for it, but for this one in particular...yeah I couldn't really come up with anything. Magic can be outwitted as has been shown, but in this particular instance I think Sirius said it best, just because it could have happened, doesn't mean anyone could have been talked into getting away with it. All that prize money and glory couldn't have been talked on to my slip of paper.

[amyscascadingtabs]

we’ve found a love to cross the ages

Jake and Amy celebrate their third wedding anniversary.

(happy anniversary, jake and amy 💕)

read on ao3

~

Even though he’s only seven months into the joys of parenthood, Jake is starting to feel like he’s got the key points of it down. He’s mastered several valuable skills to near perfection - for example, how to best change a diaper without getting peed on, how to heat up bottles of pumped breastmilk in complete darkness, and how to feed yourself with one hand while you're holding your baby on the other arm. He’s learned that his son is objectively the best and most magical person in the entire Universe, and that he would do anything and everything to make sure his son is safe, happy, and loved. He's learned that the last part is a feeling that grows exponentially, strengthening by the day.

  Most of all, however, Jake has learned that babies do not care about your plans. They don’t care if you're exhausted from your work shift and craving a night with more than four consecutive hours of sleep, they don’t care that it's the fifth time you've changed shirt today because of various baby-related stains, and they certainly, as proved obvious in the case of this particular night, do not care if it’s their parents’ third wedding anniversary, for which they had been planning a proper date night with fancy attire, dinner reservations, and Broadway tickets. At the very least, Mac doesn't.

Jake supposes it’s not technically his son’s fault. Double-sided ear infection, ruptured eardrum on the right, had been their pediatrician’s judgment when they took Mac there this morning, following a night of so much crying that in the end, their son wasn't the only one whose ears were seriously hurting. Amy had ended up staying home with him for the day, whilst Jake had spent his workday downing a dangerous amount of coffee to not incidentally fall asleep if he as much as leaned against a wall for a second too long, and they had ended up canceling the date plans. Mac wasn't his usual happy self, it wasn't fair to hand Charles a feverish baby for a night, and neither of them really had the energy to dress up for dinner at a restaurant when running on less than two hours of sleep. Date night - officially canceled.

“Well,” Amy groans as she confirms the babysitting cancellation with Charles over text for a third time, assuring him that yes, they would be okay, and yes, they would call him the next time they needed a babysitter. “This wasn't how I had planned for tonight to go.”

“I don’t think it was anyone’s plan,” Jake tries to comfort her from a distance as he starts on his n-th lap walking around the kitchen table while bouncing Mac in the Babybjorn. Through a joint and arduous effort, they’d finally managed to get their son to take some baby Tylenol without spitting it out, and half an hour later’s worth of crying, he was finally dozing off. “Least of all Mac’s, I bet.”

Amy pouts, watching her son with the same worried gaze that Jake recognizes from times in his life he’d rather forget - a car outside a farm in Pennsylvania, a filled courtroom, the nights after he came home and the nightmares kept them both up. “I know. It breaks my heart to see him like that - I wish there was a way I could just take that pain from him, because he doesn’t even understand it, you know? I’d much rather suffer myself than see him doing it.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “But I’m also sad about not getting to celebrate our wedding anniversary. I was going to wear a dress, and do my makeup, and get to hang out with just you for several hours and spend ninety percent of that time talking about how much we miss our baby, but still. I wasn’t planning for sweatpants and a sick baby.”

“I know, Ames.” He stops behind her on the kitchen chair, quickly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me too.”

“I’m just so exhausted,” she mumbles, pulling down the sleeves of her grey NYPD hoodie and resting her chin on her hands. “He slept for two hours, so I tried to do some work, but it’s riddled with typos, and I could swear there’s a dangling participle in there somewhere. Imagine if I’d sent that to Holt! I need a nap, and I need to pump, because he’s been glued to me for the entire day but he’s barely wanted to eat.”

“You could combine those things?”

Amy snorts. “I wish. If I’d figured out how to pump while asleep, I would be so efficient. But no.”

  She lets out a yawn, and as much as Jake can feel his own exhaustion like a dull, weighted blanket on top of him, relentless despite the caffeine he’s tried to combat it with, he only needs to glance at his wife to know her day’s been worse. Sure, policework is tough, but he knows from experience exactly how much more demanding a full day of caring for a sick, fussy, baby can be. Jake loves his wife, but she’s categorically useless at letting herself rest sometimes.

“You can go to sleep for a bit,” he tells her, nodding when she raises an eyebrow. “Or pump, then sleep. Whatever you need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Mac’s sleeping, and you’ve taken care of him the entire day. I’ll take him for a couple of hours, and you get some sleep, okay? You need it.”

“Rude,” she grimaces, but there’s an air of relief over her when she stands up, brushing her lips against the stubble on his cheek - shaving’s becoming less and less of a priority for him these days. “But okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he whispers, and she gives him a knowing smile before heading towards their bedroom.

  He had been looking forward to their anniversary date, too. Not for the reasons Amy seems to believe; Jake loves her in fancy dresses and makeup, but he loves her just as much when she hasn’t washed her hair in two days and she’s wearing pajamas with milk stains and baby spit-up on it. He had been looking forward to spending some child-free time with her, but not because he prefers it over an evening at home with her and Mac. No, he’d really just been longing for a chance to show his tired, hard-working, champion of a wife how special she is to him, how much he loves her, and the life they have built. A proper date had seemed like the perfect way to do that, whereas a night at home with their sick baby did not seem nearly as strikingly effective, but Jake figures that shouldn’t mean it’s impossible.

“Come on, Mac,” he whispers, stroking his thumb over his son’s still-rosy cheeks. “Let’s see if we can surprise Mommy.”

  The living room is far from what Jake would categorize as messy, but he knows it’s already at a level that would bother Amy, so he starts by cleaning. He rinses the used water glasses, places a used muslin blanket in the laundry, folds the knitted blanket over the side of the armchair. He finds a number he knows he wrote down in his phone once, an Italian place that Charles recommended and which does delivery, and orders them dinner all while bouncing on a yoga ball to soothe Mac when he starts whimpering in the middle of the call. He closes the curtains, dims the lights, and finds the battery-operated tealight candles they’ve resorted to ever since Mac started trying to crawl, spreading them out on the dinner and couch tables. He puts on a Spotify playlist with piano music and finds a bottle of white wine he’s not sure when they bought, but which looks fancy enough for a date night.

It’s not much, he thinks, not when he has neither flowers nor a card nor a fancy anniversary gift to present - he’d thought to buy the first two things after work, then ended up rushing home to help Amy with Mac - but it’s something.

  Judging from the gasp she lets out when she comes into the living room, and the puzzled look she gives him as she realizes, it seems that Amy agrees.

“What’s all this, babe?”

“Well, I thought…” He scratches his neck, shrugging as he looks to the makeshift table setting on the dinner table, “even if we can’t go out, and even if we’re in our sweats, that doesn’t mean we can’t still have a date night for our anniversary. I’m sorry it’s not much, but… I thought it could be nice.”

“Jake, this is…” She shakes her head, looking around at his improvised decorations. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“I thought we were just going to eat frozen pizza in bed,” she says. “Seems like I was surprised.”

“Surprise,” he grins, and it makes her laugh.

  They eat their dinner one at a time, because Mac begins to cry if they as much as attempt to put him to sleep on his own, but it’s still great, and Jake makes a note to text Charles a thank you for the recommendation. After dinner, they dig out a tub of salted caramel ice cream from the freezer, and the whole family snuggles up together on the couch as Mac eventually accepts a bottle, drinking the whole thing in Jake’s arms before he passes out again.

 It’s far from the most glamorous or ambitious date night they’ve had. Jake thinks back to their very first official date as Amy leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, remembering to the haircut and suit and the Kamikaze shots needed to kill the initial awkwardness between them. He’d been so nervous before that date, deathly afraid to mess things up and scare her away, scared to love too hard and scared to love too little.

He hadn’t known it then, but it hadn’t been long before he’d started feeling the first sensations of something both ever-changing and permanent; a safety he hadn’t known before, but instantly craved more of. It had lingered, and it had grown, and it had brought him more happiness than he could have ever imagined that morning all those years ago when he kissed her for realz in the evidence locker and she kissed him back. Kismet, happenchance, or an amalgamation of the two - somehow, they found each other, and found the things in each other that made the work of building a relationship worth it.

Jake’s never needed fancy, anyway, he thinks as his eyes grow heavier and he lets them fall closed for a second. Life gets considerably less fancy when you have a baby, it’s part of the deal, and they’re always tired now. There’s less time for just about everything, and most days their topics of conversation circle around logistics and their baby ninety percent of the time, but having the safety of every day with her, with Mac, with his family - it’s more than Jake dreamed he would ever get, better than he ever thought he deserved.

  “It’s weird to think he wasn’t here the last time we celebrated our anniversary,” Amy says, playing with the curls near Mac’s neck and using her newly acquired, already finely tuned, mom-reflexes to put in her son’s pacifier before he even notices that he spat it out. “It feels like he’s always been.”

“He was growing inside of you,” Jake corrects her. “But yeah. From a tiny little bump to a fully-fledged human. Or fully-fledged baby, at least.”

“Yeah.” Amy smiles. “You know, there are some days when I miss going out on nice dates, or sleeping through the night, or looking a little more put together than this,” she gestures to her uneven messy bun and oversized pajama pants, “but even on the hard days, like today, it’s still better than when he wasn’t here. So I guess, even with the canceled dinner, this is still my favorite anniversary.”

“I know. I think it’s mine, too.”

“Would you have guessed?”

“Guessed what?”

“Three years ago, when we got married - would you have guessed that this is how you’d celebrate your third wedding anniversary?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “Maybe? I don’t think I ever thought that hard about it. I knew I wanted the rest of my life with you, and then, well, you know how I felt about kids for a while; I wasn’t sure about the rest. But now… I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than here.”

“Me either,” she whispers.

“Would you?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Would you have guessed this?”

“Oh,” she says, pursing her lips and scrunching her forehead. “I hoped, I guess? I dreamed. But this is better.”

Sitting up straighter, she kisses him. It’s a little clumsy with Mac preventing them to get too close to each other, and it’s over way too soon when he starts whimpering and Jake is up on his feet again, bouncing his son slightly until peace seems to be restored.

 “We’ll schedule another date, right? Once he gets better?” Amy asks as Jake tries to sit down again, Mac seemingly back asleep in his arms. “I know you say you don’t mind, but I really do want you to see me in something other than sweatpants at some point.”

“Sweatpants are like, my favorite outfit of yours,” he mumbles, and she gives him a surprised look. “But yes, definitely. Make-up anniversary date, as soon as our baby is healthy again.”

“Yeah. Happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary.” He gets an idea, and even though he knows it’s risky when Mac literally just fell asleep again, he lifts Mac’s little fist anyway, imitating a voice that’s supposed to be their son’s before pretending to answer him. “Happy anniversary, mom and dad - why, Mac, thank you so much!”

  Amy rolls her eyes at him, but she chuckles. Jake thinks that some things, no matter how much everything else changes, stay exactly the same.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 13

Being married to Lila Rossi, now Agreste, for six years has been... an experience. The woman goes through life following her own path and coaxing people left and right, while he cannot say or do anything without the sole control over his mother's life being lost. Why would a man like Gabriel Agreste who claims to love his wife so much do such a vile thing? The worst thing is that he managed to sustain him legally and catch him with the last woman in the world he would have thought of marrying.

He must remain married to Lila as long as his mother remains in a coma or the hospital will be forced to kill her. Adrien has no other words for what would happen if he divorces her, but it's so sad to be married to a woman he doesn't love and he's the only one who must fulfill the damn contract, because if they discover an infidelity is the same as divorcing.

His mother deserved more, if she had followed that childhood love instead of his father, she woulded be happy...

Chloe and Marinette have been looking for ways to free him from torture, even Felix decided to help in order to free him from his sad fate. At least, it stopped being Chat Noir or that could have played against him, with how easy Lila manipulates people. He get migraines just from imagining making a mistake.

"Adrien, I'm going out to eat with Alya." Lila appears in his field of vision in her usual expensive way, always looking like he's attending a fashion event (which means expense and that translates directly to him working as a slave in different contracts. She makes her money, sure, but her expenses exceed those gains.) She barely looks at him as she checks her phone, probably talking to Alya or one of her lovers, not that he really cares.

"Sure, say hi on my behalf." She turns to leave, but Adrien stops her. "Remember that today we will have dinner with Michel Laforet for next month's charity event. "

"I wouldn't forget it."

They say goodbye barely looking at each other. Adrien is busy reviewing the job proposals, Marinette sent him a couple of locations to investigate a few weeks ago, due to a group of drug traffickers who settled in Paris and need to know their links, he of course must follow their leads and possible connections to find a way to disrupt it. He's now free to continue his work, especially since the MT is busy dealing with Akuma.

He was very surprised when he saw his first Akuma in seven years, he is also quite fearful of what this new villain intends. The way he has attacked, his champions are very different and, consistent with his cousin, he seems to be trying to measure the heroes. For that reason, he approves of Marinette's approach of keeping Luka in a safe place so that no one notices the use of the second chance, that way the villain will never know if his plans could have been altered in any way.

Wait this time it doesn't last for several years.

Now if he could understand why they want him to model in a banana suit for a soup ad, maybe he could consider it.

-----

The Anibiotic: How are bananas and soup related?

Wild goat: If it's another one of your jokes, I swear by Satan that I'll burn your house down

Silent Hill: I approve the plan

Plasticine: Your jokes are really bad, bro

Dragon Tamer: I think this is a serious question

The Antibiotic: It's a modeling proposal

Needle: They offer you the weirdest roles

Plasticine: Like the sardines!

Three balls: that was good

Not in hell: Maybe it's a way to get attention by putting two discordant elements together

Not in hell: You guys are that strange

Almost pretty: Pleasant

Wild goat: We are great, you know, there is no other creation as stylish as us

Not in hell: I would keep my comments, but I completely disagree

Dragon Tamer: If you start a discussion about this, I'm going to ban you from the chat

Wild goat: Tyranny! I will arm a revolution

Plasticine: Maybe it's banana soup. You don't understand art!

Three balls: Neither do you

Perfect Crime: You’re a disappointment

------

John Constantine was not planning to spend his morning avoiding being stabbed by a ten-year-old boy, nor avoiding being eaten by two German shepherds. But there he's, avoiding the edge of a Swiss knife as he tries to shake off two huge dogs without hurting them, because he's sure the boy's murderous intentions would triple if he hears a single screech from one of his pets.

He may not have met Damian in person, but he know enough about him from the chats and from what Marinette shared with him.

"Look, kid, stop, okay? Damn, I haven't drink enough for this... "

"Why?"

"I don't read minds, kido, you'll have to explain yourself." Damian frowns and presses the knife against the blonde's neck, if it wasn't for the dogs he couldn't have him subdued. The Kwami hesitate about what to do, they are talking... only in a very violent way.

"Why are you do with my mother?"

"Did they give you the talk yet? Because it would be very uncomfortable for you to receive it from me. ”John looks at the boy, who doesn't flinch at anything and seems ready to stab him. It would be better to collaborate, he doesn't want to harm the child, he can only imagine the adorable woman's anger if her son is hurt in some interaction between them. "Sure... Sexual attraction, simple like that. I don't pretend to be your father or to be a stable romantic couple, she deserves something much better than me. I'm just content to enjoy our time together, happy?

"Don't you want to be my father?"

"No, I'm the worst candidate for that position. What made you think that, kid? "Now it's his turn to frown. Much love can be had (he will not deny it), but both are aware that they would be the ruin of the other, he doesn't want to condemn her to a life as dark as his and expose her to all the demons that follow him, she truly deserves something better than misery fllow him.

He also knows that, despite all his complaints, Plagg has told him that he's its true owner and that his soul is balanced with that of Marinette, that's why they gravitate around each other and could trust as if they were born together. That doesn't mean they are romantically good to each other. Sexually? Magical, but the romance in their lives has been tragic and putting that together, well, it could be a problem for everyone.

"You've been with her for four years."

"We are mainly friends, confidants. Do we have sex? Yes, do we want to get married and have more children? No... We would just be miserable. Those stories that soulmates are happy together? Son, these are lies, romantic shit from movies and junk books.

Damian recoils, shocked by the information, all of it. Her mother had hinted at a casual relationship, but the look in her eyes told him otherwise. Soulmates? That doesn't exist, but the Kwami didn't exist for him either until his mother introduced them to him. Wretched? He need to analyze what he have learned.

"Why do you say that?"

"Experience, son. Do you want to sit down or go for a walk? The second seems to excite your friends more."

Damian snaps his fingers and the hounds stand beside him, freeing Constantine. Her kind gaze is very dark, long-suffering and ironic.

Just when he's about to answer, the alarm on his phone goes off and he knows what it means.

Akuma attack.

"Go away, I won't say anything."

Damian nods and Kaalki opens the portal, just look at the man's tired posture for a moment before breaking through the portal back to the MT. Agatha and Edgar just behind, have a job to do.

-------

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

What a wonderful day for an Akuma attack. Somebody take the stick out of the villain's ass because the beast is horrible, nor Hawkmoth dared so much

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

WHAT HAPPENS WITH PARIS? IS IT A VIOLET DOLPHIN WITH BAT WINGS?

The Last Hours @Toogoodtodie

@TheFlyingGrayson Paris would appreciate if you blocked any information on the city from external sources in the country, if you do not know how, you can contact the @MaxKan_Tech offices to receive information

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

@Toogoodtodie ok?

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

@TheFlyingGrayson @Toogoodtodie Subtle, Anthony. Please, Mr. Grayson, contact my office and we'll make your stay in Paris much more pleasant. You can also contact the prosecution to find out the legal procedures for staying in Paris and the security regarding the Akuma

Marc @MarcAC_twt

Does our villain use drugs?

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Ready now; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

To the anon who requested this from way back when, I first wanna thank you for being SUPER PATIENT with me.  I was going through a lot at the time you sent the request but I am slowly but surely getting through them. Eventually once I get the chance, I may open requests back up again.

Now there’s not really any serious warnings other than swearing, fluff, and angst.  I hope you all enjoy this fic and until next time stay safe, stay healthy, stay positive.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

____________________________________________________________

*Oklahoma city, Oklahoma, 1976*

It was like every other Wednesday night at COWBOY’S.  The live dancing, bull riding, and of course the famed karaoke night.  I’ve been coming to this club for as long as I can remember, in fact I think I was a kid when I first came here.  It was to see my mama sing for karaoke night and of course my dad is known around here as the world champion bull rider.

He kept that title from the time he was 16 up till just before I was born.  And because of his reputation, I (and I hate to admit it) but I get special treatment every time I go to Cowboy’s.  In fact the current owner, he was my dad’s longtime friend and fellow bull riding competitor.

As I walked inside I could already see the place was packed with people.  Line dancing and really lighting up the dancefloor making this club a real Hoedown. I first went up to the bar and there running it was the owner’s son, Jensen.  He and I go way back, even though he’s like seven years older than me, he treats me like his little sis.  Always keeping the boys away.

“Well, well, well, well, well. Look who walked in. It’s the singing sensation (Y/n) (L/n). Can I just say I am a huge fan of yours!” He teased me at the end.

“Oh Jensen stop it. You know I’m not famous yet.”

“Not yet, but you will be soon.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Okay hang on, let me get your usual and then you spill your guts.” He walked away and got my usual beer and filled it almost up to the rim.  He slid it towards me and he said as he leaned up against the bar, “Alright now talk.” I took a sip of my beer before saying.

“What if no one likes my song?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jens you know as well as I do that no one really sings original pieces here. It’s always covers of famous songs, and the last time someone did do an original he was booed off the stage.”

“First off, his song sucked and he kept screwing up on the guitar. So of course he was thrown off the stage. But you—you’ve got a serious talent in song writing. And your voice—baby girl the only other female singer I can compare you to here was your mom.”

“You really think so?”

“Coming from a Texas man forced to move here when we first met, you’re bout the only good thing in this one horse town. Hell you’re way better than just sticking right here. Especially since—well you know.”

“I know. It’s……it’s been rough. Ever since the car crash mama’s been—well not herself lately. Music is bout the only thing I can do to make her happy.”

“So you get up on that stage and knock these cow-folks right off their boots. Now go relax on the dance floor and I’ll let my old man know you’re here.”

“Thanks Jensen.” I pulled out my wallet to pay for the beer but he stopped me.

“No need, this one’s on my tab tonight. But expect to pay me back once you hit the big time.” I smiled at him and pocketed my wallet back into my jeans.

“Thanks Jensen, you’re like the brother I never had.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you yah silly little day dreamer.” He teased as he placed his cowboy hat on top of my head, teasingly rocking my head from side to side till I stuck my tongue at him and took another swig of my beer.

I then headed off to the dance floor to cool off (dancing always helped me calm down, especially when it’s with a group of people) and I danced with some of my old friends from high school, just letting my hair down as I danced the first hour of the night away before they would call up the performers for karaoke night.

*3rd Person POV*

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), it was also on that night that the most famous rock and roll band would also be there on that night to see her perform.  Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon, otherwise known as the band Queen, had just arrived in Oklahoma city to do their two night concert they had scheduled for their “A day at the Races” tour.

To let down some steam and relax after a few days on the road, Freddie had heard about this club from a friend of his and convinced the other three to come along and check it out.  All four of them wearing cowboy hats, so that they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumbs, they entered inside and saw the whole place buzzing.

“Wow, this is even more filled than the Disco club Veronica and I met at.” Said John.

“Well Tony said this was the one place in America where you would get a traditional Southern treatment.” Said Freddie. “And I like it. It’s reputation proceeds itself.” He continued with a smile as he adjusted his hat.

“Remind me again why we had to wear these though?” Roger said.

“Don’t be such a party pooper blondie. Besides you see every man in here. Tony said that everyone in Oklahoma wears cowboy hats. Anyone who doesn’t is automatically labeled a stranger. And I don’t want no Wanted poster of me across the state for refusal to wear a cowboy hat.” Freddie said as he playfully shoved Roger.

“It’s not so bad.” Brian said as he fiddled with the string of his hat.

“You’re just saying that cause you can’t feel it on your head.” Quipped John.

“Alright, alright Deacy darling you’ve had your shot at Bri. Now I don’t want any more brawls tonight. I wanna enjoy this night, you three know how much I love to party. So don’t fuck this up for me.”

“If you wanted that Fred then you should’ve left Roger on the bus.” Brian said.

“You know what yah curly haired space poodle……”

“Gentlemen.” The four of them turned to see an old man around his mid-50’s walk up towards them.  He wore a traditional brown colored cowboy hat, his grey goatee reflected off the lights, and the spurs off his boots jingled with each step. “Now I get it we all need to let off some steam, but if you’re gonna cause any trouble I’m gonna ask you all to leave.”

“No worries my good sir. You must forgive my friend here, he didn’t quite have him fixed yet so his testosterone can run him ragged like one of your bulls.” Freddie sweet-talked the man.

“Watch it Fred!” Roger sneered as he took out a cigarette and lit it up.

“Alright. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on your friend there. I get enough drunks brawling every night here, I don’t need another damage fee added to my billing. Bobby Singer, owner of Cowboy’s.”

“Pleasure to meet you Bobby dear. I heard about this place from a friend of mine and this place does not disappoint.” Freddie praised as he and Bobby shook hands with each other.

“Thank you son. Built this place myself with my own two hands before moving the wife and son up here.”

“How long has this place been here?” asked Brian.

“Well came up here around 51, bought this property at around 53-54 and the doors finally opened by the start of the 60’s so…..about 16 years this club has been around. And she’s still going strong.”

“Impressive.” Freddie praised.

“What kind of drinks do you serve here?” asked Roger.

“Well if you mosey on down to the bar, my son Jensen will lay down everything we got. We mostly do beer but if you can take something stronger, we got that as well. Enjoy yourselves boys.” As Bobby walked away, the boys bid him farewell.

“He seemed nice.” John said.

“A friendly old man, kinda reminds me of Miami. Firm, strict, knows when you’re starting trouble Rog.”

“Watch it Fred.”

“Alright come on, I think we can all do with a drink right now.”

“Yes.”

“Or ten.” the band members walked over to the bar to see Jensen cleaning out a mug.

“Excuse me darling!” Freddie cried out to Jensen.

“Yes can I he—he-ha-ha……oh shit! You’re….you guys are Queen!”

“Yes. I take it you’re a fan of ours?” asked Brian.

“Y-Yeah.” Jensen squeaked.  He then cleared his throat before continuing, “I mean yes. When I first heard Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time, it changed my life on how I look at music. Not even some of my favorite bands can do what you guys do.”

“Well thank you darling. Bohemian Rhapsody was a masterpiece.” Freddie said.

“But a complete nightmare to make.” Roger added in.

“So what can I get for you guys?” asked Jensen.

“What all do you got?” asked John.

“Well you guys actually came on a good day. Wednesday nights are our special’s night. Every drink at half price. We’ve basically got every beer imaginable, but we also do vodka, gin and juice, margaritas. And of course we have the basic water and soda for those sensitive to the strong stuff.”

“Well then my darling, we’ll go ahead and take three of your finest beer and a vodka shot please.” Freddie said.

“Coming right up.” Jensen walked off to prep the drinks for the four young band members.

“He seems like a nice chap.” Brian said.

“He does indeed.” Agreed John.  Before another word could be said, Bobby soon came up on stage and said.

“And that was Carol Anne with ‘Sweet home Alabama’.” The crowd then cheered. “And now ladies and gents, it’s time to be graced by our very own special songbird. Please welcome our very own Southern Belle. (Y/n) (L/n)!” the crowd cheered and it was then the four English rockers soon saw a young woman coming up on stage.

She looked to be about John’s age, maybe a couple years younger.  In her hand was a 12 string acoustic, she got onto the stool and adjusted the mic.

*My POV*

God my nerves were really starting to get the best of me.  What if no one liked the song? Oh god I wish daddy could be here, he always knew just how to calm me down.  I adjusted the mic and plugged in my guitar.

“Hello everyone. I uhh—” I cleared my throat. “Tonight I’m gonna do something a little different than my last few performances. This is an original piece I’ve been working hard on. Hope you all like it.” I turned towards the ensemble band and nodded to them.  They nodded back and as I began playing the opening on my mama’s guitar, Aaron came in with the violin and Jack soon came in with the bass.  

By the chorus, Daniel came in with a soft drum beat and as I passionately sung out the chorus, I could already hear some people cheering or whistling at me.

She was driving last Friday on

Her way to Cincinnati on a

Snow white Christmas Eve Going home to see her mama and her daddy

With the baby in the backseat Fifty miles to go, and she was running low

On faith and gasoline It'd been a long hard year She had a lot on her mind,

And she didn't pay attention She was going way too fast Before she knew it she was spinning on a

Thin black sheet of glass She saw both their lives flash before her eyes She didn't even have time to cry She was so scared She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus, take the wheel Take it from my hands 'Cause I can't do this on my own I'm letting go So give me one more chance And save me from this road I'm on Jesus, take the wheel

*3rd Person POV*

Everyone was involved in hearing (y/n) sing.  Like her mama before her, the adults all whistled and cheered for the young girl for she truly did sound like her mama whenever she sang, maybe even better than her.  But the one most intrigued by her was the leading frontman of Queen.

“Just who is that talented young lady?” Freddie spoke out as (Y/n) played a small instrumental break in the first chorus.

“That there is (Y/n) (L/n). Her parents were known in this club. Her mama for her singing and her dad, God rest his soul, he was the world champion bull rider. She’s got a gift with that voice of hers.” Jensen said as he cleaned out a mug.

“She does indeed.” Freddie muttered in awe as he continued to watch (Y/n) sing the next part of the song.

There was one point of the song where she held out a note so long, it felt like she was running on endless air.  The crowd all hooted and hollered as she held that note before finishing the song.  Everyone soon cheered as loudly as they could while (Y/n) smiled under the spotlight and stood up from the stool and took a bow.

“Wow she was amazing.” Brian praised.

“I’ll say, she held that note for like 10 beats. Not even I can do that.” Roger said.

“Excuse me, Jensen.” Freddie called out.  Jensen who had just gotten done serving another round of drinks for a bachelor party, came back over and said.

“What’s up?”

“Where can we meet that talented young lady?” he asked him.  The other three band members looked at Freddie confused.

“She’ll be out back. That’s where she usually goes when things get too hectic here.”

“Thank you so much darling.” He dowsed the last of his vodka and stood up and walked out of the club with the other three members behind him.

*My POV*

After the performance I went outside to cool off. I stared up at the starry sky and whispered.

“I wish you could’ve seen it daddy. It seems I really wowed everyone tonight.”

“You did more than just that dear.” I froze and slowly turned around and—pinch me I must be dreaming.  Cause right there in front of me stood my all time favorite rock and roll band Queen.  I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to wake myself up from this dream and found that I wasn’t dreaming.

Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor were really right in front of me.

“You—you’re……”

“Yes darling we know who we are. But what I’m more interested in is who you are. How long have you had that lovely voice for?” Freddie said as he came up to me and actually wrapped an arm around me.

“Well I uhh—for a while I guess.”

“And that was an original song you sang back there?” Brian asked.

“Yeah just…..a little something I came up with. Was it bad?”

“Au contraire darling, it was unlike anything we have ever heard. And that’s saying something.” Freddie said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The way you managed to have utter control of your voice as you belted out certain words of the song. Only one other person has been able to do that and that’s me.” Freddie bragged.

“Umm hello what about me?” Roger piped in.

“Oh yes you and your dog whistle range. That takes skill too.” I softly chuckled.  Man this was definitely not how I pictured this night would go (well except in my dreams). “Now then (Y/n). How would you like to be an opening number for our concert?” wait what?

“What?” I asked.

“What?” I heard the other three echo back.

“You’ve got the voice, the talent, you are too good for just singing at the clubs. What better way than to finally dive in and take this opportunity.”

“Uhh Fred can we talk to you for a second?” John soon spoke up.

“Just stay tight for a moment (Y/n) dear.” Freddie said as he bopped my nose before walking back towards his bandmates.  Okay what the hell just happened?

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie and the boys walked a few feet away from (Y/n) so that she couldn’t hear them.

“Fred are you crazy right now?” Roger hissed softly.

“What?”

“We can’t just go picking up random singers off the streets and ask them to open up for us!”

“I agree with Roger. No offense, but I don’t think Reid or even our tour manager Bill will go along with this.” Brian added.

“You don’t believe she’s worth giving a shot too?” Freddie asked.

“No, no it’s not about that. She is talented, beyond talented. We just—can’t do something like this. Picking up a random teenager and ask her to leave everything behind for the rest of our tour.”

“They do have a point Freddie. Plus how do we know she even wants this? I mean maybe she just sings for fun. To be honest I never thought we were that serious till our first album went on the shelf.” Deacy said.

“Okay first off that hurts Deacy dear. How dare you think that. And number 2, I have a feeling she does want it. She may not physically show it but there’s something in her eyes that show that she wants a chance at the real spotlight. And who am I to crush a fellow singer’s dream? Especially one as beautiful and adorable as her, just look at her!” they all turned towards her. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get an additional family member in our rag-tag band.”

“Whoa wait hold on now you’re saying we need another person involved with Queen?” Roger snapped.

“I’m thinking broadly Roger dear. Don’t be so dramatic about it darling. Now then, are you three with me?” Brian, Roger and John looked at each other and Deacy was the first to speak up.

“You’ll never let it go either way. I’ll say yes.” Fred smiled before turning to Brian.

“I mean—” he sighed heavily. “Okay fine, she can come with us. But only if her parents say it’s okay.”

“Well blondie?” Fred questioned as he turned to Roger.  Roger sighed heavily and said.

“I’m already ruled-out even if I say no.” Freddie cheered and hugged his bandmates before heading back over to (Y/n) to discuss his brilliant idea.

*My POV. 1 year later*

If you had told me that on the night I would perform my first original piece live before the people at Cowboys and then told me I would soon be standing before Queen, who not only saw me sing but also offered me the chance to perform alongside them, I would’ve called you crazy and laughed in your face.

But it happened.  With Jensen’s and uncle Bobby’s approval I was able to tour the rest of the North American tour with Queen.  I’ll admit it was frightening to perform in front of my first crowd of over 12,000 people, but once I got on that stage and just sang it felt good.

We had just gotten done doing a concert at the Hammersmith Odeon.  As par-celebration we all headed to a nearby pub the guys had rented out for the night and anyone who was involved with the concert was invited to come.

By 1am everyone was either completely drunk and were passed out on the floor, or they were having sex in the bathrooms. Wanting to perk myself up, I went to the restrooms to splash some cold water on my face but before I could walk around the corner toward the sinks I heard some girls talking.

“I mean don’t get me wrong Roger is amazing especially in the sack but why would he allow someone like her on stage?”

“Yeah all those songs she sings are soooooo boring!” I peeked around to see that the girls who were talking were some of Roger’s groupies.

“Queen is just being dragged by that little bitch who can’t sing for shit.”

“All her songs about Jesus or God or whatever. She doesn’t fit with them. I think they just pitied her so she could go on stage and sing her little country songs.” It was a stab to the heart.

I raced out of the bathroom and tried to contain my tears.  But it only got worse from there.  Walking pass the men’s bathroom were a few of the roadies who were talking about me.

“She brings to band down don’t you think? I mean her songs just aren’t up to par with where Queen is at. In fact I’ve seen sales going down at our concerts because of her.”

“Dorothy should’ve just stayed in Kansas singing for pubs. She’s nowhere near concert stadium material.” At that point a few tears ran down my face.

Was I? Was I really that bad? Did the guys really pity me? Was this all a big joke to them? I ran out the back way and just ran down through the streets of London.  

Not caring where I was going, or where I’d end up. I just figured the father I ran, the farther I would be away from those people and their cruel comments.

The next morning I was at my apartment (technically it was Freddie’s old apartment that he and his ex-girlfriend Mary had) lying on the couch holding the couch pillow close to me.  The things that the groupies and even some of the roadies said last night still rang through my head like a church bell.

Maybe I should give it up. I mean after all like they said, no one really listens to me perform.  So I decided to pack up my stuff and go back to America, back to Oklahoma, maybe try to get a job at Cowboy’s or something.  As I was packing up my last bag, the door suddenly opened and I heard Roger’s voice call out.

“Oi (n/n) you here?” shit why did Freddie have to give out spare copies of the keys?

“(Y/n) you in here?” I then heard Deacy’s voice speak up.  Oh great, not one but two of the Queens are here.

“Is everything okay poppet?” Brian’s voice echoed out. Great could this day get any worse?

“Everything’s fine.” I called out to them.  I quickly came out of my room and shut the door before walking towards the living room. “Hey guys what’s up?”

“Well you disappeared from the party last night darling so we came to see just why that was?” Freddie said.

“You didn’t sneak off with anyone last night did yah?” Roger teased.

“No! I—I felt kinda tired after last night’s concert so I just took a cab home.” I gave them a white lie.

“Why didn’t you tell one of us you were leaving? You know how dangerous the streets can be at night.” Roger said as he plopped himself on the couch.

“I’m not some fragile flower Rog. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just can’t help it sometimes, you’ve become like another sister to me, plus Jensen made me promise to keep an eye on you less he shoot me in the arse.” I rolled my eyes as I chuckled.

“(Y/n) dear~” Freddie sang out as he peeked from the hallway. “If you don’t have anyone here, then why is your door shut?” oh shit.  I quickly turned towards him and he just grinned as he raced towards my room.

“Fred no! Don’t!”

“Oh so there is a handsome beast you’re trying to hide from us!” I ran behind him trying to stop him from getting in my room. “Oh-ho-ho this must be serious then, he not dressed or something?”

“No Freddie there’s no guy now please don’t go in my room!”

“Technically it was my room first so I get first—” he opened the door and that’s when he saw the suitcases.  “What’s all this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to see that.”

“So what were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye!?” By now I’ve seen Fred literally explode on some major temper tantrums but this—this wasn’t anger.  This was disappointment, and when Fred lowers his voice, looks you straight in the eye almost to the point where it’s like his eyes are piercing your soul, that really tears you up.

And you never want to make Freddie Mercury disappointed in you.  Cause let me tell you, it is the worst.

“Fred—”

“No, no, no. Please I would like to know as well.” Roger’s voice soon rung out.  I groaned internally as I turned to see the remaining three band members standing right outside my door.

Roger’s eyes glaring right at me with his arms crossed over his chest.  Brian’s eyes in shock at seeing the suitcases, and Deacy—he looked like he was about to cry.

“Well!” Roger snapped impatiently.

“Hey Rog lay off on her will yah?”

“Brian are you not as upset as we are about this?!” Fred asked.  At this point the three hotheads began screaming at each other.  God this was a nightmare!  I was hoping to just leave without any drama and now I’ve done and caused it!  I held my hands to my ears and shut my eyes trying to drown out their shouting and screaming.

Next thing I know I feel a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and there stands Deacy. His eyes soft, not looking at me in anger or disappointment.  He gestured with his head to follow him and the two of us snuck out of my room.

We both sat down on the couch, him sitting close to me as his arm wrapped around me.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked me.  I shook my head no.

“Umm…..I don’t know if I’ve totally ruined this but—could I get a hug?” a soft smile spread across his face and immediately his arms wrapped around me.

“You know you will always get a hug out of me sis.”

Since Deacy and I were the youngest members of the band, we kinda clicked more than the rest.  Guess our shy natures also kinda mixed in together so we kinda had our own special psychic bond with each other.  We always knew what the other was thinking or needed, we would pull the other aside when things got too chaotic (just like now cause I never liked getting or hearing fights).

His fingers stroked through my hair as I adjusted my head so that it rested over his heart.  We sat there in comfortable silence (well besides the still arguing hotheads in my bedroom).

“I’m not good enough for you guys.” I finally confessed.

“What?”

“I—I heard some of Roger’s groupies and even some of your roadies literally talk about how I don’t fit with you guys. That I’m not even that good. Or that you guys just pitied me in order to help me get on stage.”

“I knew those tramps would be trouble.” I heard him mutter.

“But they’re right.”

“No they’re not.”

“Open your eyes Deacy!” I removed myself from his embrace. “My music and Queen’s music they just—don’t mix. I don’t do hard rock songs like you guys do. No rock fans are gonna wanna hear me sing just plain country or folk songs for 20 minutes. They’ll just be going out to get beer or go shag till you guys come up. I’m boring!”

“You’re not boring. Those arseholes are boring. If they can’t withstand a 20minute first act then they shouldn’t even be at one of ours. Because we most certainly perform longer than that.”

“Well you guys give a performance, not just a show. For me; it’s just me and my guitar. I mean yeah there’s people that may like a song or two from mine. Hell you guys allowed me to have a song on A Day at the Races and News of the World. But—in person I’m plain.”

“You’re raw.” I looked up at him confused. “I don’t mean raw in the sense of bad or disgusting. I mean you’re vulnerable. You don’t do the flashy lights, the loud hard rock of drums, or extremely, overbearing, long ass guitar solos.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s just you up on that stage. Just you and your guitar.”

“And people should see you as that.” We looked up and finally ceasing their arguments, Freddie, Roger, and Brian now stood there.  Freddie came up behind me, Brian knelt down in front of me, and Roger sat to my right.

“But they don’t.” Freddie began to massage my shoulders.

“Darling when I first heard you sing back in the states, It was like anything I’ve ever heard in a female singer. You have this rawness that can make anything a song. You could write a song about taking the piss and it’d be a hit.” I rolled my eyes.

“More like a flush down the sewers.”

“Oi you need to stop with the negative thinking!” Roger playfully growled as he took my head between his hands and playfully shook it, almost as if he were trying to shake out the negative thoughts out of my head.  I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as I tried to free myself.

“Cut it our Rog!” I laughed.  He stopped then said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Forget about what those rotter’s said. Never, ever doubt your talent. Because you have got something that not even Queen could ever have.”

“And just what is that?” I asked doubtfully.

“Rawness. Like John said, it’s just you up on stage. Most of the rockstars like us come up glammed out to the max, prance about the stage and do the headbanging hits. You—you connect with the audience just as yourself. And if people can’t see that, then they’re fools.”

“So you guys didn’t pity me when you asked me to join you guys?”

“Absolutely not! Whoever says that you just tell me and they’ll be dropped like yesterday’s rotten tomatoes.”

“Thanks you guys. I—I really needed that.”

“Hey, you’re part of this family now. We look out for each other.” Brian said as he gently took my hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking the back of them.

“There’s just one last thing that needs to be taken care of to ensure you’re feeling your normal happy self again.” Freddie said.

Oh no. Please not that!  At this point all four of them had the look of evil on their faces.

“No. Guys don’t you dare!”

“Too late lovie, we gotta make sure you’re back to your full-fledged happy self again. And we’ve got Jensen to thank for sharing with us your deep, dark secret.” I tried to make a run for it but it was too late, Brian trapped me in his long arms and soon I was gang tickled by Queen.

A couple weeks after that, we had just gotten done playing an arena in Houston, Texas.  Wiping the sweat off of my forehead (after not only doing a few of my own songs, but also joining alongside Queen playing guitar or piano) I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh sorry I—wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright. Say you’re the young woman who just performed alongside Queen correct?” this man had a strong Tennessee accent.  From underneath his cowboy hat I could see sandy blonde hair and he had the most striking blue eyes.  He looked to be about his mid-40’s.

“Yes.” I said wearily.

“Oh sorry I know this must seem a bit creepy, please allow me to introduce myself. Stan Singer.” Wait what? Oh my god!

“Wait, Stan Singer? The Stan Singer, manager of Glen Campbell?”

“The very same, you a fan of his?”

“Yeah. My—my daddy first introduced me to him when I was just 5 years old.”

“Man has good taste.” We both laughed. “How long have you been performing with Queen?”

“A year.”

“A year? Now that I don’t believe.”

“Well truthfully I’ve been performing on stage back home in Oklahoma for a few years at a bar a family friend of mine owns. Cowboy’s.”

“No kidding. I was just there last month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Quite a shindig that place.”

“Oh yeah, it gets crazy some days. But it’s the best place to go to.”

“Listen (Y/n), While I have enjoyed managing Glen and don’t get me wrong he’s a great guy and a great singer. I’m also looking out to see if there’s a next big thing I could help mold. And seeing you up on stage, you’ve got that special little niche in the realm of country singers. How about joining me for lunch so we can discuss a contract.”

“Me? You—you want to sign me up for a record deal?” I asked ecstatically.

“You’ve got something I’ve never heard from any male artist. Here’s my card, just give me a call whenever you’re ready to talk.” He handed me a business card and said his goodbyes as he tipped his hat at me.

Wow I—I can’t believe it.  I’m actually gonna get a real shot with my own manager.  And Glen Campbell’s manager, nonetheless.  I can’t believe this is actually happening to me.

Wait….what about the guys? What would they say? Would they be mad if I took this deal? Left them when we’ve already grown so close with each other?

During our bus ride to the next city of New Orleans, I was looking at Stan’s card debating whether I should call him or not.

“What’s that?” Roger spoke up.  He soon plopped down beside me with his arm over me. “Ooh a name and phone number! Already got yourself a groupie huh?” he teased as he nudged my shoulder.

“No Roger it’s nothing like that.” I nudged him back.

“Hey did I just hear (Y/n) got someone’s name and phone number?” Deacy soon piped in peeking his head from the curtains of his bunkbed.

“(Y/n) you sly little minx.” Freddie teased.  Oh man was I really not gonna miss this.

“Alright you guys lay off of her will yah. Now just who was it that gave you their phone number (Y/n)? Will there need to be any—talks we need to do with this boy?” Brian said.

“I already told Roger Bri, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? I mean normally a guy wouldn’t give you his number unless he wants a date or something else.” Roger spoke. Deacy came up and slapped Roger over the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

“It’s a business card guys! For Stan Singer. Glen Campbell’s manager.”

“Wait I’ve heard of that guy. Yeah he’s like one of the best country singers out there.” Roger said.

“Yeah. Well Stan actually saw the show tonight and well he—he offered to be my manager. He wants to sign up a contract with me.”

“Oh my god darling yes!” Freddie cheered as he came up and embraced me tightly.

“Congratulations (Y/n).” praised Brian.

“But—” I started off.  Fred separated from me and he said.

“But what dear? You’re finally on your way! This should be a celebration!”

“But what about us? You guys? What if—what if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other?” at that point the guys grew quiet. They looked at each other and that’s when Deacy spoke up.

“The future is uncertain. Maybe someday we will meet again. But (Y/n), if you don’t take this shot now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“It’s like Deacy’s song says. Time to spread your wings and fly away.” Brian said as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked between the four of them and they all had the same look.

Acceptance and love.

I felt my eyes watering up and I choked out.

“I’ll miss you guys.” They immediately hugged me and told me they would miss me too.  We remained in that group hug for the rest of the night till we arrived in New Orleans later the next day.

As soon as we got to the hotel, the guys sat with me as I called Stan up and told him that I would like to have lunch with him to discuss the contract.  Stan agreed to fly down to New Orleans and once that date was made, the guys brought me in one last final group hug telling me how proud they were of me, that they loved me and knew that I would become big in my own way.

On June 27th, 1977 I preformed my last concert with Queen as their opening act and the following day, I met with my new manager Stan Singer and together we went over the rules of my contract.

By the end of the 1970’s into the 1980’s my name had flown to the top of the charts in country artists.  So far in the 3 years of my growing career I had toured America twice for my 2 albums I had released under Sony records.

As I expected I was mostly popular in the southern states where country music reigned supreme on the radio.  But I did have some fans in the northern, Mid-west and western countries but I mostly toured around the South.

I was now performing back in my home state of Oklahoma to an arena of 20,000 people.  I had just gotten done preforming my biggest hit “Jesus take the wheel” and everyone went crazy for it.

“Thank you!” I turned and saw one of my roadies hand me a stool and I thanked him before setting it down right at the edge of the stage.  I adjusted the mic stand as I sat down. “This is a new song that I wanted to do especially for you my home sweet home. So you guys will be the first to hear this song coming up on my next album.” The crowd cheered. “But this song is also dedicated to four special men in my life. Without them—I wouldn’t even be up on this stage before all of you. It’s called Ready now.”

Then with just me on the guitar I began to sing my newly finished song “Ready now”.  As I sang the song, during the long instrumental breaks, I thought back to the guys.

All the fun memories I had with them while on the road with them.  Being there with them during their recordings, getting to do a song on their albums, or hanging out at the bars together after the shows.

Play video

You saw through me All this time I'd forgotten People are kind

I was hurting And you knew So you showed me What to do

You said, "I will listen Tell it all When you're finished We'll talk more"

But I didn't know how So we took it in turns And to my surprise We found my words

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand The world seemed to tell me That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

Something new Something strange Ten feet taller I had changed

I believe you I'm not wrong Oh it suits me To feel strong

You said, "I will listen Tell me it all You don't like the ending Then we'll find on that's yours"

Oh, how did you know That's all we need A promise of hope Is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand And I told the world That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

By the end of the song, I heard the crowd cheer and as I looked up at the ceiling I did a silent thank you to the boys.  Even though we would never see each other in our career’s again, I would always keep their memories alive in my heart and mind.

Without them, I would never have been ready to even get to this point.  And I will always be grateful to Queen.

[snowflake-of-destruction]

Imagine Roxas and Axel babysitting for Sora and Riku

Teamwork

"I like adding spontaneous, fun extra challenges to the day as much as the next guy, provided the next guy is you, but I have to say, I think Floor is Lava Tuesdays is a better idea than weird plastic puzzle locks on the cabinets."

Roxas glanced up from where he knelt on the floor, fixing covers and bars on the under the sink cabinets in the kitchen to see his husband framed in the doorway, looking the casual print ad model, chiseled lines under soft sweats, hands curled around a mug of steaming liquid that smelled almost as delicious as the holder (of course the mug was emblazoned with the word SLUT in bold letters which would probably have to be censored out of the ad), bun with just enough flyaways to seem careless but pulled to the perfect angle.  "I'm baby proofing."

"As the baby, I resent that remark," Axel tutted before setting his coffee next to the sink and crouching down beside Roxas. "What brought this on? You have some news to tell me?"

Axel expected an eye roll from his husband, but Roxas set the angry looking plastic finger trap he was holding down and ran a hand through his hair nervously, a mild pink tinge crawling up his neck and Axel felt his smile freeze in the middle of forming.  "Well, actually, I do have some news..."

"You're kidding." Axel felt his blood run cold and then super heated through his veins in quick succession as time slowed down.

Roxas's frown at the interruption morphed to a furrowed brow of confusion and then annoyance. "Axel, I told you already. Replica bodies don't work that way. I'm not going to 'go seahorse'"

"Xion can..."

"Xion is a special case. You are stuck with me with no alterations."

"Eh, I still have the much better end of the deal."

"Yeah, you do."

A shared smile and a quick kiss distracted Axel a moment longer from asking, "So what's the news?"

"I told Sora and Riku we'd babysit for them tonight." Roxas ripped the bandage off quickly. He braced for a less than enthusiastic response, though actually receiving one was still disappointing.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the acknowledgements. Every book I write is dedicated to 'my heart, my love, my Roxas.' I thought that was a given by now, and I just had to write what other dedications would come after it. It was the publisher's fault, and I should not be punished."

"I'm not punishing you," Roxas felt his face wilt as he picked back up the baby proofing supplies to finish what he had started. "I thought it would be fun. Riku and Sora really need a night out, and it gives us a chance to, you know, see what it's like."

It wasn't that Axel missed Roxas's hurt tone or his latter words and their meaning, even if they had been mumbled. It was more a combination of not wanting to be lured toward a slippery slope of manipulation or ready to revisit the conversation of whether he felt they should start seriously thinking about adding to their family soon rather than a general "some day" they'd always said before. Roxas had brought it up last week, and Axel appreciated that he had, but it hadn't exactly gone well when he'd been taken by surprise and his gut instinct response was less enthusiastic than Roxas had seemed to want. He was letting the idea soak in now, and it needed a little more time to marinate before he could give a response. If Roxas was going to push, it would probably need even more time. So it was better not to toe too closely to the sensitive, personal part of baby discussion and do what they both had the inclination to always go back to, deflection with a joke. "To let a Babynort into the house?"

"Ripan is not a Nort." Roxas hissed defense of his other's son since Sora and Ripan couldn't defend themselves.

"Then how come he has white hair? Answer me that," Axel challenged.

"He has silver hair. Like Riku. Riku's genes are the only inherited evil Ripan has and I don't think we should hold that against him. He's just a baby."

"No, no, babies are adorable balls for holding and cooing at and then handing back to their parents. Terrifying because their heads are squishy and they can't hold them up, but otherwise not dangerous at all. This thing is mobile. I've seen it." Axel lent the revelation the appropriate air of horror, though he neglected to mention he'd seen Ripan crawling up a wall, imitating either one of his fathers or the younger Incredible boy, which rendered his warning easily mistaken for his typical melodrama.

"That's why I'm baby proofing."

"Did you get the upstairs?"

"It's not going to be able to climb the stairs by itself...Is it?"

Axel thought it over since the stair thing seemed to alarm Roxas. "Probably more easily than it could get to the ceiling. I'm just going to feed it ice cream and hope that appeases it."

"I don't think it..he can have ice cream yet. Sora said he was going to write us a list of rules."

Axel's attitude toward the night ahead of them turned on a dime when the suggestion that someone else thought he was less than capable intruded to punch at his ego.  "Rules like what? We know what to do."

"Damn straight." Roxas stood, dusted off his hands, and stole Axel's coffee off the counter.

"We'd be great with kids," Axel insisted, reaching out to take the coffee back, taking a sip, and returning it to Roxas.

"That's right," Roxas encouraged.

"We take care of Demyx!" Axel could honestly say that he'd fed, bathed, and rocked Demyx to sleep under different circumstances. Luckily, no diapers had ever been involved. "We're Turkey's dads!"

"And he's the most demanding little baby of all!" Roxas championed Axel's logic even while being reminded that he'd forgotten to feed Turkey before starting his project with the cabinets. He'd have to rectify that now. It was a miracle Turkey wasn't already dramatically expressing the utter betrayal of being left to starve.

"Next to me," Axel provided the punchline at his expense.

"Next to you." Roxas leaned up on tiptoe to steal a kiss and pressed the coffee cup with its last sips at the bottom into his husband's hands for him to finish off. "Now go put on something more suitable for tonight."

"What's more suitable than sweats for babysitting a baby? A tarp?" Axel drained the coffee.

"Put on something nice."

"Is Ripan conducting a formal interview before storytime?"

"No, but his dads might."

Roxas's instincts turned out to be right. Sora and Riku not only had a list of rules but a pop quiz on protocol and babysitting readiness that needed to be passed before they would leave, despite the fact that Roxas and Axel, already had the job, were doing it as a favor, were only taking Ripan for a few hours and not permanently adopting him and taking him into the heart of Deep Jungle, and Riku and Sora's normal babysitter was a fifteen year old girl (though Violet had warned them that she might have to cut back even more than she had. Ripan and her brother Jack Jack tended to be "a little challenging" in her words, when she had to watch both of them).

Ripan's part of the testing was to sit on the floor sucking on his giraffe pacifier and rolling an alphabet block between his hands, occasionally looking up with large, liquid blue eyes either to question why he was sitting on a strange floor or to ask why his dads were still there. Or maybe to ask why the other baby curled in the entertainment center next to the cable box was so ugly and meowed.

"I promise you. Ripan is going to have so much fun tonight he's never going to want to leave...but he's also going to be asleep by nine and I won't forget to rub the cream on his arms before I put on his sleepytime shirt," Roxas swore, crossing his heart over the I like coffee and maybe three people shirt he'd neglected to change out of despite telling Axel to look nice.

"Okay, I believe in you," Sora assured him before selling out his husband. "But Riku sincerely does not. So can you please promise me you will take extra good care of our little angel? I know he's kind of a handful, but-"

"Are you kidding?" Axel chuckled, unperturbed. "You're talking to the best babysitters in the business. There is no one more qualified for this job."

"You've literally never done this before," Riku groused, hands clenching in his pockets as he regressed to his old nervous tick.

"We are totally capable of taking care of your precious angel, okay? It's not like we don't have kids too." Roxas gestured to the entertainment center where Turkey sat, eyeing the miniature human. It had eyes like His Boy, so Turkey thought he might be able to trust it, but the threat of someone else Heat Giver and His Boy might want to snuggle that was not Turkey was hard to face.

"That's why I'm concerned," Riku concentrated on breathing evenly through his nose and not sounding too snappish. "That is not a child. That is a cat in a knit sweater."

"We'll be fine," Roxas insisted, ignoring Riku's slight, when defending Turkey's status as first child would make Sora and Riku miss their reservation. "We have your list and everything he needs. You two just enjoy yourselves!"

"See, it's fine, Riku." Sora nudged Riku toward the door. "Bye Ripan! Behave yourself for your uncles!"

Ripan gurgled solemnly, swearing to be nothing but the perfect child.

"Have fun guys! We'll be back around eleven!" Sora nudged Riku a bit harder, recognizing him for the immoveable object he was. "Riku stop glaring and walk."

Roxas opened the door for them, Axel waved to them as they retreated, Roxas closed the door. It was a total of maybe fifteen seconds they didn't have eyes on Ripan. The first fifteen seconds they were in charge of the vulnerable life of the baby that had been sitting near motionless and content in the living room for fifteen minutes. The baby that was still sitting content after those fifteen seconds and still near motionless, just with his pacifier out of his mouth and on the floor beside him and his mouth working as if he were chewing.

Axel and Roxas shared a glance and dove at the same time. Ripan shrieked, which should have proved his mouth was empty, but Axel used the opportunity to sweep a finger inside the child's mouth to make sure. Ripan employed natural defenses. Namely, biting down as hard as he could with his four impressive teeth.

Axel howled. Ripan laughed which allowed the red head to withdraw his injured hand. Roxas comforted Axel, for a moment, then warned him not to take his eyes off Ripan again because they might not get lucky again, and went to wash floor germs from the pacifier for the first, but, by no means, last time of the night. Minute one drew to a close with everyone still unscathed.

Minute fifteen gave birth to everyone's least favorite game, Turkey Chase and Smack, though Crawl Behind Couch gave it a difficult battle for the title.

At the end of the first hour, a nice balance had been found and everyone was getting along until Axel tried to heat up a bottle by summoning fire in his hand and subsequently scalded his wrist while testing results, as well as putting the idea of fire into Ripan's head. Sora had been right. Ripan was very smart and liked to try and mimic what the big people did. The living room couch suffered.

The next hurdles were The Incident of the Second Bottle Being Too Cold, The Great Despair of not Being Able to Have Both Bottle and Pacifier at the Same Time, Bottle Gone Too Quick, The Pukening, Second Washing of the Pacifier and Trial of Separation Anxiety, The Changing of the Onesies with Ripan Super Spleen Kicking Action, and The Pukening Part Two: Roxas's Shirt Looks Absorbent.

It was all minor stuff. Normal stuff. Expected, other than perhaps setting fire to the couch.

The real trouble didn't begin until the pacifier was lost.

[anime-lover-forever-1127]

Saiyan Mates {Son Goku} - 2. Stretching

Stretching

*****

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "Dragon Ball", it belongs to its original creator Akira Toriyama. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

I will be writing out scenes even if my Oc isn't in them. As long as she's mentioned, or influencing the characters in some way. Or maybe because it influences the story. This may seem a bit annoying. But that's just how I write. I like to embed my characters into the story line. Because of this, most of the dialogue/scenes will come from the original work.

Warnings: Spoilers for Dragon Ball Z episode 11, Mentions of killing and death, Mates, Cursing, Violence

*****

Today's Special (Curse word involved)

"You want a whore, buy one.

You want a queen, earn her."

~ Cersei Lannister

*****

{Atena P.O.V.}

I woke up with a yawn, my eyes fluttering open. I was already expecting this. Sleeping gases never worked on me for too long, so I always needed two doses, versus Vegita and Nappa's one dose.

I turned to stare out the pod's only window and grin as I saw a planet in the distance. I rubbed my stiff neck, hmm, maybe stretching my body would help a bit.

I turned on my communication device, "Nappa, Vegeta! Get up!" I screamed as loud as I could.

I heard a groan from Vegeta, "God dammit Atena." He cursed as he woke up.

I smirked, "You up or-"

"I'm up!" He growled out. "But that idiot clearly isn't. Nappa, wake up!" He commanded.

The older man grumbled, "I'm awake. What's going on?" He asked, confused.

"Nothing much. But Atena wants to make a stop and stretch a bit, get some exercise." At this point, Vegeta didn't need his sister to tell him what was on her mind. He saw the planet and knew what she had wanted instantly. "Planet Arlia is right over there. Maybe we could sell it for a nice price."

I nodded, "I'm pretty sure that the party from Araclion is looking to expand. They'd be more than happy to pay a pretty penny for Arlia."

"That sounds good." Nappa agreed, turning on the lights on his space pod. "I hope these Arlians know how to fight. We haven't had any real competition since I can remember."

We then set a course for Arlia. Once we had entered the planet's gravity, we let it pull us down. And landed with a bang.

I climbed out of my pod, only to stare at a complete waste land with broken ruins scattered around.

"Aww man, what a mess. Not much is there." said Nappa from behind me.

"Obviously not." My brother rolled his eyes. "Let's have a look around shall we."

I sighed, "Sure, nothing better to do."

I watched Nappa pat a pillar lightly, only for it to crumble upon impact. "Are you sure you can get a high price for this planet?" He asked me.

"Doubt it." Vegeta answers.

But I shook my head, "On the contrary. As boring as this run down planet is, it's actually a selling point. We could actually charge more on the basis that the people buying it wouldn't need to tear anything down."

"Let's check around a little longer." Says Vegeta.

Our scouter then begins beeping as the ground near us bursts open and two large, blue caterpillar-like creatures attack us. My eyes zone in on their heads, Where two smaller aliens appear to be riding them.

"You are trespassing on Arlian territory." One of them says to us.

"Make one move and we'll blast ya." The other adds. "It was a good day to go hunting after all."

"Let's give them a proper welcome." His friend snickered.

I stare at the two creatures, unimpressed. I turned to my brother, "A proper welcome would be at least 1000 men, for each of us."

My brother rolls his eyes, "Oh please, just look at them. They'd need 10,000 just to land an attack."

"Let's just blast them." Nappa suggests.

"Eassy." Vegeta commands him.

"Surrender peacefully or face the consequences." One of them threatens.

"No." The Saiyan prince answers.

The bug looks surprised, I think at least. It then quickly says, "You left us no choice. Prepare to be destroyed then!" It fires a red beam from his mouth?... I think.

I can see it hit me, but don't feel a thing. The only trace it leaves is the dust that kicks up from the ground.

"That's the end of them." I can hear one of them say.

I let out a yawn, as the other two gasp to see us continuing to stand in front of them as if nothing had happened.

"Surrender at once!" They shout.

"Yeah! Make me!" Nappa screams back.

'Nappa. Surrender to them.' My brother commands us, through the familia bond.

I stare at him, not amused. 'Come one, let's have some fun, we're here.' He tells me.

I sigh, relenting. 'Fine. I'll play along with your little game. But if this ends up another stupid, wimpy male trying to mate with me, your going to owe me. BIG TIME!'

We extend our wrists forward as the two bug-like aliens begin rejoicing, "Yeah, they're giving up."

"I guess we're too much for them." His partner adds.

"They sure are ugly."

"But they'll be good entertainment for the king. Especially the women." One of them says, cuffing my wrists.

I feel my eyebrow twitch at the comment, 'Screw you Vegeta!' I curse through the link.

*****

I yawed in bordem as we were carried in a cage, pulled by the large insects most likely towards where their king is. 'Well if he's a king, he should at least have some guards.' I told the other two.

'That's exactly what I'm hoping for.' My brother responds.

As were herded into a jail cell, the man cackles, "You should be glad to know your cell doesn't have any rate. The prisoners ate them all."

"Oh, joy." I comment drily.

"Why you!" The bug-like creature shouts.

"Wait!" His friend pulls him back. "You know the king prefers his women to be mark free."

"Remind me to get that guy." Nappa growls.

"Sure." I shrug. "But the king's mine." After the sexist comments I can just feel coming my way, I'm deserve to be the one to end that pathetic life, so I'm calling dibs.

"Look at those aliens!" I hear from my left.

"They sure are ugly."

"Maybe they think we're the ugly ones." Another adds.

"Speak for yourself." His friend grunts back.

"Be quiet all of you. It doesn't matter what they look like. They're stuck in here just like the rest of us." One with a golden bangle on his arm chastises the rest of the group. "They're just more victims of that tyrant king. Locked away and left to rot." he says, rubbing his arm.

Yeah buddy, there's no way I'm pulling the pin on that grenade.

But, apparently, I didn't need to. "I'm afraid you visitors have come at a bad time. The new king of Arlia is very ruthless. He uses the prisoners for his own amusement. He even went as far as to steal my wife Lemlia on the day we were to be married. So you can imagine the pain I feel."

I scoffed, "So he's married and handsy. Isn't he the complete package."

I heard footsteps and turned my attention to two females of the race walking towards the cell holding something... pink?

ARE THOSE FRILLS?!

WHO THE HELL USES THAT MUCH LACE?!

Yeah, hell no!

I turn to my brother, "I'm done." And with that, I blast the cell bars open with an energy blast.

The guards instantly begin filling in, only to be met with the same fate as the cell blasts.

"Couldn't leave any for us?" My brother raises an eyebrow.

"Oh come on. Perhaps the ones upstairs may be stronger, though I doubt it." I suggest.

We walk upstairs and to the loudest room in time to hear the king calling for us.

"Don't put yourself out." says Vegeta, "We're already here."

"What's the meaning of this? Why don't these prisoners have an armed escort? And why is that female dressed in such a manner?"

"Dressed? You mean that pink monstrosity? Yeah, you wouldn't catch my dead body in that!" I scoffed.

"I don't know my sire." The alien next to him answered. "No orders were sent to the dungeon."

"Your guards met with an unfortunate accident." Vegeta answered.

"How dare you?"the king shouted, "Soon it will be your turn to be met with an unfortunate accident!" He screams at my brother, and then turns to me. "And you! You should be honoured that I even considered you."

I raised an eyebrow, "Oh please. You aren't even strong enough to be considered my pet, let alone my mate."

Please, as if I ever consider a man like him. He looked like he wouldn't even be able to pin me down. As a Saiyan it was in my natural instincts to desire a strong mate. My true mate may have died on our planet. But that doesn't mean I'd ever even think of having a child with such a weakling.

The man on the throne growls before turning to the cotton candy like women to his right. "You may not want to watch this my dear."

I sighed in exasperation and put a hand on my hip, "Yeah, sure. Tell her to turn away after you were just talking about doing things with another women, you disgusting pig."

"Why you! My guards shall make short work off this repulsive creatures."

"Really?" My brother asks in mock surprise.

"Ah, let's see." The man nodes, tapping his finger. "Yes, we'll test the big one with the shiny head against our champion in combat. The little one may go next, and we'll save the women for last. Now teach them a lesson."

A large alien from behind us then jumped at Nappa, only for Vegeta to shoot a line of energy blast out of his index finger and middle finger. Blasting his head clean off, and killing him instantly.

"Huh? I guess that makes you the new champion Vegeta." Nappa comments.

My brother chuckles only for the king, still calmly counter with. "Not bad. But 10 of our finest warriors have already mastered techniques using energy just like yours."

"They have?" Vegeta asks, turning around, "Interesting. We'd like to fight them."

I nod, "Who knows. Maybe I'll finally get to stretch a bit."

"Ready?" The saiyan prince asks.

The king let out a cry of outrage, "I'll see you suffer for your insolence!"

"Yeah, whatever." Nappa responded, "Can we get on with this already."

"Ah, how dare you!"

I chuckled, "Easy, you just need to spit out the words."

His 'elite' guards became to surround us, and fire off a red energy blast from their mouths in unison.

I touched the small sparks that were left behind. "How weak." I sighed.

"Was that it? It felt real good. It was refreshing." Vegeta antagonised them.

"Oh. I'll make you pay." The king growled. "If you think you can just walk out of here. You're sadly mistaken."

"You know what's funny, Vegeta?" I turned to my brother. "He keeps saying 'I' as if he's going to be the one fighting. It's hilarious."

"Guards! Attack! Destroy them!"

I sighed, "All right. Play times over." I created a circle of energy around me, and then expanded it outward. Then, when it was at the feet of the men, I shot the bright ring of energy upward, slicing off various parts of the aliens. Killing them.

"Aww come on Antenna. Couldn't you have left any for us." Nappa complained.

"What's the point?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "They're all weak."

"Open the gates!" The king commanded in fear.

I then began to hear gears turning and a section of the ground in front of us open. And from it, a large brown insect rose.

"So it's the giant bug from the ground trick?" My brother scoffed.

I shrugged, "I personally liked the giant rat a little better. It's screams were surprisingly nice."

"You need to destroy these creatures. They're bad. Very, very bad!" The king ordered the giant beast pointing at us."

"That's it!" I growl. "I'm done." I walked over to the king, startling him. "Please die." I smile at him kindly, before flicking his forehead with my index finger, and sending his head flying off his body.

"We're bad?" Nappa asks.

"Well a little." Vegeta answers.

"Correction." I challenge, "We're bad people, but great Saiyan's." I pretend to wipe a tear from my eye, "Oh how proud daddy must be."

Vegeta scoffs, "Daddy's girl."

I smirk, "Oh please, your just jealous that I was the favourite."

The large insect takes a swipe at us, only for us to jump up, like some kind of game of skip rope.

Nappa lands on some steps, and the giant bug gives chase.

"Lucky." I pout. "The only thing maybe worth fighting."

It then tries to lunge for Vegeta, only to miss and lose his balance, crashing onto the ground.

It begins shooting lasers at us, at which point we begin flying around.

"Hey ugly!" Nappa calls it. It thrusts a fist at the bald man, only for Nappa to grab the claw.

The bug begins the whimper as Nappa pulls his claw right out.

The creature makes a desperate attempt to capture him in his hands, only for Nappa to jump away at the last second.

"Hey! I got one more little surprise for you." Nappa then throws an energy ball straight at it, blowing him up.

The remaining aliens began crawling out, and at that point I checked out. "See yeah. I'm going back to sleep." With that I enter my pod, and once again set the coordinates for Earth. Only for once again my inner beast begins crawling around in my mind.

'We'll get some action soon." I tell her, figuring she was just feeling caged. I only hear her mutter something about mate.... before the sleeping gas kicks in, and I fall asleep.

*****

There's an Easter egg up there, did anyone spot it?

Heads up, there will definitely be Chi-Chi bashing. For all of you who like her, sorry. But it had to be done for the sake of the story. Remember, this is a fanfiction, so will by amplifying all her flaws by like 50, which can make anyone seem bad. So don't hate on me, the story, or the real Chi-Chi (and she tries her best in her situation). Because this is just a fanfiction.

Also someone pointed out to me that I accidentally wrote Vegeta's name with an 'i', as Vegita, a couple times. So sorry for that guys. And thanks for pointing that out, I'll try my best not to make that mistake again

Another thing I will be changing is - as the story progresses, Goku's saiyan instincts will help sharpen his mind, and his other senses. So smarter, and slightly darker and possessive Goku.

You can read the other chapters of this story (in order) on Wattpad, Quotev, Fanfiction.Net, Ao3, or Webnovel - Under the username Animeloverforever1127 (Under the same title of course). Or you could shuffle around my tumbler, (I’ll try to keep my tags constant) but I’d go with the first - just seems like a lot less work.

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

 Part 1 - Chapter 4

“Is it me, or is trying to walk down stairs in the dark kind of not fun.”

The librarian- the faerie, the liar, her friend- whatever he is to her now, he casts her a backwards glance and raises a hand, which begins to glow. It’s not like the light of a bulb or even a flame dancing on the wick of a candle, it’s like bottled daylight, the serene glow of a merry spring day. All Soso wants to do is stare at it, bask in it. It brightens the stairwell, but doesn’t make watching her step much easier. Surehouser grins knowingly at her. She huffs.

“Show off.”

Eventually she does manage to tear her eyes away and look around. The library basement is a proper dungeon. The stairs seem to go on forever, the stone walls are streaked with mildew, and as they delve deeper she notices tapestries and even an old battle-axe mounted on the walls. They’re marked with a variety of emblems, intricate and beautiful, but none the least bit familiar to her. Part of her wonders if it would change her opinion of them, knowing whether they are relics of the humans or the fae.

She’s still processing the overwhelming amount of information Surehouser has placed on her, the knowledge that not only are the creatures of myth real, but apparently are her ancestral enemies. Surehouser himself doesn’t seem bothered by it, so maybe she shouldn’t be either. After all this war he speaks of was so long ago that she can hardly conceive of it. On the other hand, for Adamantius, humankind’s champion, the wounds seem to be a lot fresher. He won, but it doesn’t sound like he got to reap many of the rewards.

That’s the part that puzzles her most. Both sides had to lay down their arms for the sake of creating peace, but she doesn’t understand why that would lead to Adamantius being sentenced so cruelly. If he was truly humanity’s saving grace during the war, why did no one before her come to rescue him?

The passageway opens onto a subterranean archive of sorts, which darkly mirrors the charming little library directly above it. The shelves here are far less welcoming, set in rigid lines like rows of headstones in a military cemetery. It’s lit from a above by hanging lanterns which flicker to life upon their entry, as if they were expecting the pair’s arrival. And still, the stairs don’t end, rather continue to a lower sublevel, and another below that, far further down than Soso can make out.

“How deep does it go?” she asks.

“As deep as you can imagine and deeper. There’s an entire floor set aside for illegal poisons, and a special wing for forbidden texts on summoning demons.” He isn’t quite gleeful as he says it, but neither does he seem properly horrified. Soso sure is.

“Why even keep all this stuff? Why not destroy it, if it’s so dangerous?”

“Everything you can find down here is a part of history,” he explains. “The darkest part of our shared history, but history none the less. So much knowledge was lost when the world was split, so much that most humans no longer even remember us outside of stories. The idea of sacrificing even more was unthinkable, and between you and me, I think some people feel better knowing they could theoretically still access this garbage should we ever go to war again.”

He walked through the aisles, pointing out spots of interest as he went. “Books of banned spellcraft here, manuals for the construction of basic torture tools, recipes for Gnomish explosives. Someday I must show you the section for djinn containment bottles, it’s quite the treat. Of course, you’ve already met the crown jewel of the entire collection.”

She resists the urge to argue the point again. She’s coming to suspect that he only brings the former gargoyle up to try and rile her, maybe trick her into confessing that this was all some plot of long-belated human vengeance after all.

“How did I not know about this?” she asks instead with a slight shiver. “How does no one know about any of this?”

“I wouldn’t say no one, but as for most, I think you can guess. It’s because it was better that way. When the human forces won and claimed our shared world as their own, the fae assembled a council of powerful magi to split the world and create the land of Underhill, where the fae could live peacefully, unseen in humanity’s shadow. Apart, each side was free to heal, free to forget the past. Still, not everyone has that luxury. Now you’re one of those in the know. How’s it feel?”

She swallows. “Kind of like riding a rollercoater with a full stomach.” She looks at the librarian. “How do you deal with it? How do you deal with having this huge secret just sitting inside you like dead weight?”

“Drinking mostly,” he says cheerfully. The joke falls flat. He sighs. “You know, before this I was living a wonderful carefree life in Underhill, enjoying all that the endless summer had to offer. Then I was told that because my family line descends from some faerie noble that was on the peace council nigh millennia ago, I was expected to live up to my pedigree. It was either take over watching the vault of wartime horrors or go into politics, and if there’s one thing I hate more than wasting away in this nothing town guarding a pile of dusty relics, it’s politics.”

“And they didn’t tell you ahead of time that the job included watching a prisoner of war who also just so happened to have razor-sharp teeth and horns?”

The man broaches this next subject carefully, uncertainty writ plainly on his face. “I knew about Adamantius- vaguely! I just didn’t expect that he would ever be quite so… alive.”

“Isn’t turning a soldier into some kind of life-size trophy post war against the Geneva convention?”

“It may seem cruel to you, but you must remember that he isn’t human. He may claim to be a son of man, but even the human side didn’t want him when they had nothing more for him to kill. He was built for destruction. He can’t be allowed to wander freely.” His voice takes on an uncharacteristically grim note. “As I understand it, the terms of the treaty exempted him from execution, but he was, and is, too dangerous to just be let go. This, this should have never happened.” He fidgets nervously. “But it has, which means, Soso, that a great burden, a great responsibility has fallen to you.”

She takes a reflexive step back. “Responsibility? Me? What am I supposed to do? Put him back in the rock?”

He shakes his head. “Perhaps there might still be a way, but for now, just keep him occupied. You set him free. That means, in his eyes, he owes you a debt greater than his very life. You are the only one who can control him. And you must, or he’ll be the end of us all.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Adami might have some… quirks, but he’s not some mindless monster. He- he helped me.” Granted it had been because of him she had nearly passed out on the kitchen floor, but he had caught her and carried her to bed. He’d been gentle despite the sharp shape of him. “I think he wants to do right, he’s just sorta confused about what that means.”

“Are you claiming since he’s been awake he hasn’t done any harm,” he asks, disbelieving.

The image of clawmarks and frightened frat bros flashes through her mind. “Well…”

The man nods. “Come with me. I want to show you one last thing before we go up.”

Down they go to one of the lower lower-levels. Surehouser counts shelves and follows the cryptic keys until he finds a thick book of yellowed parchment. It’s almost too large for him to maneuver open on his own while keeping the ball of magic light aloft and the cover is inscribed in something that, to Soso’s inexperienced eyes, looks like a cross between German and Old English. Thankfully the inside looks to be more pictures than words. The illustrations remind Soso of the decorated margins of medieval bibles and bestiaries. The linguistic aspect may be lost on her, but art history had been one of her more preferred courses in school.

The design Surehouser flips to is much larger, taking up the bulk of both pages. It depicts armored soldiers being besieged upon by a familiar figure. Here, Adamantius is painted in red, making him look like a classic Christian devil. He’s tearing the retreating knights limb from limb, and smiling as he does it. Soso isn’t inclined to believe everything she reads in strange old books, but the altered likeness is disconcerting.

“He was called by many names back then, I’m told,” says Surehousr, breaking her thoughtful concentration. “When I first heard the story as a child, Adamantius the unmerciful was the popular title.”

Soso shakes her head. “I thought you said you were a neutral party,” she accuses. “You said it yourself, it was horrible for both sides. He was a soldier, not some gleeful mass-murderer.”

“Oh dear, do you still think there’s a difference?”

No more words are exchanged as they begin their ascent back up to the main floor. Soso is pensive, her head full of questions she doesn’t trust herself to voice. Not a day ago her biggest concern was building up the courage to talk to her parents, now she was supposed to be responsible for some sort of living breathing war machine? She doesn’t seem to have much choice other than to defer to the librarian’s relative expertise. After all he’s a real life faerie and until quite recently she hadn’t known that faeries existed. Still, the situation doesn’t sit right with her.

Adamantius is waiting where she left him in the doorway. He seems anxious, or as anxious as a formidable creature like him can be, and she wonders if he’s been like this ever since she left his sight. When he said he would stay by her side, she’d thought it was a sweet, if a little strange, declaration. She doesn’t know what to do with the reality of his dedication.

“Told you I’d be back,” she says, trying to keep her tone light. She shoots him a reassuring smile and it actually doesn’t feel as forced as she might’ve expected. Somehow, seeing him waiting for her is still a comfort to her. Maybe it’s all those days of spilling her guts to him in statue form. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can’t shake the feeling that this man is her friend, no matter what some people a thousand years ago had to say.

“I believed you,” he says lowly, casting a sideways glance at the librarian. “But faeries can be tricky.”

“Well I’m fine, and I’ve done some thinking too. Adamantius, I know you think you owe me something, but I don’t want you to serve me. Instead, if I ask you for a favor, can you please try your best to do it for me?”

Instantly the warrior lights up. If he had a tail he’s surely be wagging it, she imagines. “Anything. I would do anything to please you, Lady Willoughby.”

He’s missing the point, she thinks, but the enthusiasm is nice. With a great deal of caution, she takes his clawsome hands in her own. “Then here’s what I’m requesting. Stay here at the library with Mr Surehouser.”

Both of them look at her with alarm. “What?”

“I know there’s some bad blood between you two, but I consider you both my friends and I don’t want you to fight. Besides,” she admits. “I can’t really put you up at my place without someone finding out, and I’m pretty sure you’re a wanted criminal by now.” Anticipating his protests, she adds, “I’ll still come by every day. It’ll be just like before, except better because you’ll be free.” She lets her eyes drift over to meet Surehouser’s troubled gaze. “You’re going to stay free.”

Adamantius bows his head, although it seems to be just as much about hiding the sour look on his face as it is about any sense of fealty. “As you wish.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she assures him. “Just try not to kill each other when I’m not around.”

As she does her best to console the beast, Surehouser walks away shaking his head. She doesn’t stop him. She knew he wouldn’t like her decision but it’s the only thing that makes sense. This way she can keep Adami from terrorizing the neighborhood without having to take the responsibility of ordering him around. He’ll come around, she just knows it.

[stellarconstellationwrites]

Ghost of the Past

Chapter 1

Wedgeherst was a quaint town; almost as quaint as the neighboring town, Postwick. The two routes that separated the two towns were also tame enough for a few people to live peacefully without being bothered by Pokemon, the regional professor was a prime example of that fact. A five year old Leon was too far gone in his own excitement to listen to his mother's exasperated demands. Sonia had told him that someone was moving into the empty house next door to her and her grandmother, the professor. It was a new person to get to know! A new kid to play with! Hopefully. The purple haired child found himself wondering if the new kid liked Pokemon; if they wanted to be a trainer as badly as he and Sonia did; if they had the same drive of learning about Pokemon that they did.

"Leon," his mother says with a sigh, pulling the five year old out of his childlike reverie of thoughts. The child looked up at his mother expectedly, his large, innocent eyes still brimmed with obvious excitement as his mother held his attention for the moment. "Please be on your best behavior for the Professor."

"Okay, Mum!" said Leon excitedly, an innocent grin on his face. His excitement was followed by a happy cry from the Charmander Leon had got a week prior for his birthday. "I'll see you later, Mum!" 

"Be safe dear!" She called after her son as he ran out of the front door of the house, the small fire-lizard following his trainer. He had so much energy for a five-year-old, Amaya couldn't be any prouder. However, being pregnant with her second child; dealing with her first born's ever existing excitement and endless energy was exhausting for Amaya. Amaya could hear the faint 'I will!' from Leon as she began preparing lunch for Leon, Sonia, and the new child in the neighborhood. 

Leon had met up with Sonia halfway to her house at the end of Route 2, she was just as excited as Leon was. To say the least, being the only two kids in the neighborhood was boring, so their excitement was justified. Sonia's Yamper was walking behind them with Charmander; excited, but nervous cries from the Pokemon could be heard as they made their way through the route. 

"Grandma said that the neighbors are from a region called Kanto," said Sonia, her turquoise eyes shining with a certain curiosity about her new neighbor. "It's far, far away from here."

"Nevermind that, Sonia!" exclaimed Leon, who caused the ginger female and the Pokemon to jump slightly at the sudden loudness of his voice, as he was quiet up to that point. A quiet Leon was oftentimes a dangerous Leon. "Was there a kid there?"

"Yes, Leon," Sonia sighed with a shake of her head, clearly exasperated with her friend. She didn't understand her friend's thought process sometimes. "A kid around our age."

"Boy or girl?"

"Should it matter?"

"Not really," Leon answered as they approached the two houses at the end of Route 2.

Leon was familiar with the Magnolia household as he frequently visited it; the home always gave him a warm feeling, much like his own. The neighboring house, not so much. Despite the house being on the same path that led from Wedgehurst, it always gave the two children a sense of uneasiness as they passed by it each day; and it was to remain unknown to the children as to what caused that sense of dread and uneasiness. With the overgrown weeds, the trees that never seemed to have leaves, no matter the season; the two often speculated that the house was haunted and that it was filled to the brim with super rare ghost Pokemon. Another wild speculation that the two had come up with was that a homeless person lived in the house and eventually died in the house, causing the spirit to be bound to the house. However, the children’s imagination always ran rampant when they found themselves wondering about things they shouldn’t be thinking about. With their Pokemon by their sides, the two hopeful, but scared five year olds steeled their nerves and headed towards the now lived in house.

The Pokemon Moving Company Machoke dutifully did their job as they moved boxes from the moving truck and to the house. The two five year olds looked around for someone human, but not a soul was in sight, despite the door of the house being open. 

"Hello?" Sonia called into the eerily silent house, her voice wavering slightly due to nervousness.

"Marionette, dear, can you see who's at the door?" came a tired female voice from further into the home. It obviously belonged to someone much older than Sonia and Leon, most likely Marionette's mother; whoever she was. Following the voice was the soft pitter pattering of sock covered feet against the wooden floor. Not a moment later, a girl with dark brown hair and matching eyes entered the living room, seemingly from the kitchen. She just looked at Sonia and Leon with a blank expression as a strange puppet-like Pokemon floated over her head. It wouldn't be until much later that week that the duo learned the curious puppet Pokemon was called Shuppet, a Pokemon native to the Hoenn region. "Marionette?"

A second round of soft pitter pattering of feet ensued as an older woman emerged from the staircase on the left of the three children. The woman looked just like the girl, Marionette. Dark brown hair; albeit with graying streaks, dark brown eyes that almost looked black and a fair complexion. "Oh, you must be the neighbor's granddaughter, she did mention she had a granddaughter."

"A-Ah, yes, that's me," Sonia said with a nervous chuckle as she avoided eye contact with the strange girl, her equally strange Pokemon and her mother. It wasn't like Sonia to be this nervous with strangers, Leon noted. "M-My name is Sonia, this is Leon. He lives a couple of towns over."

"I can introduce myself," Leon grumbled, but he still had a smile on his face as the strange girl named Marionette let a small smile peak through her blank expression.

"Go play with the neighbors, Marionette," the woman said as she smiled down at the girl, who nodded. Leon and Sonia took this as a sign to leave the mysterious house with its strange homeowner.

"So your name's Marionette?" Sonia asked as soon as the trio left the formerly abandoned home and began walking along the route. Marionette nodded at this as she looked at the scenery that surrounded her house. The surrounding scenery was certainly brighter compared to the gloominess of the house, that much was obvious. Upon closer inspection, Marionette was far paler than she let on when the duo first met her inside the house; it was like she didn't get an ounce of sunshine. "Is there a nickname you'd like us to call you?"

"What's a nickname?" asked Marionette, who looked confused and curious at the question.

"You don't know what a nickname is?" retorts Leon, who looked bewildered at the statement. Marionette shook her head at this.

"The kids in my hometown were named after colors," Marionette explains softly. It dawned on the two Galar born children that (in their childlike innocence, of course) they wanted to make this sad girl happy. "And my mother always called me by my full name."

"A nickname is a shortened version of your name!" Leon explained in a surprising burst of excitement. The burst caused a surprised squeak to escape Marionette and Sonia to yell at Leon for scaring the poor girl. He ignored Sonia's burst of anger and continued his explanation. "Like you can call me Lee!"

"But your name is already short as is?" Marionette countered questioningly with a tilt of her head. "Why shorten it by a letter?"

"It's a symbol of our friendship," Leon explained as they reached Wedgehurst. The town itself supplied all the traveling trainers needs; a Pokemon Center that held the item shop, the man that taught your Pokemon any forgotten moves, and of course, the ever loving Nurse Joy that looked the exact same in every location. There was also a boutique, of course; for those who enjoyed the change of pace of shopping for clothes.

"You want to be friends with me?" questioned Marionette as the trio made their way to the Pokemon Research Lab.

"Of course we do, silly," says Sonia with a bright smile on her round, childish face. "It'd be lonely to not have any friends, right Leon?"

"Right," says the male in question, who had begun thinking about something. He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts as an imaginary lightbulb went off above his head. "I know! How about we call you Mari? It'd be short for your really long name!"

"Mari, huh?" questioned the ginger female, twisting a short lock of hair in thought. She couldn't help but nod in agreement. "It's short and cute, I like it. I didn't think you could pull off something like a cute nickname, Leon."

"O-Oi, leave me alone, Sonia," Leon whined as a pout began to form on his five year old face. Though he knew Sonia was only poking fun at him, Leon would do the same thing to her in a heartbeat.

"I like it," Marionette softly says, blushing slightly as the two turned to face her, stopping in mid-conversation to smile at her. While the pale girl with the dancing ghost Pokemon didn't talk much, it was obvious that they would become quick friends.

-

The champion of Galar was deep in thought as a certain Dark-type Gym Leader aimlessly followed him in the streets of Hammerlocke. While Piers was glad to see his friend again, the rockstar hates getting lost, especially on one of his rare days off from gym work and recording.

"What's on your mind, mate?" Piers asks, adjusting his leather jacket. Piers might've looked stupid to a lot of people, but the rockstar slash gym leader (an extremely exhausted one at that) was far more perceptive than he let on. "And don't say it's nothing either, your lying abilities are just as shitty as your sense of direction."

"Just thinking about an old friend, is all," answers the champion honestly. Leon could barely remember his childhood after Hop was born, yet the memory he suddenly remembered was in such vivid detail; it was almost like he experienced it yesterday. "Speaking of an old friend, you'll be meeting her today, in fact. Don't worry about it, she's just as weird and creepy as you are."

"I'm not creepy nor am I weird," Piers snaps, a glare forming on his already intimidating face. However, he couldn't keep the glare with the honest grin crossing Leon's face; almost like Piers wasn’t the first person to tell him that. Not the shit eating one Leon usually donned when he was in trouble, but one that actually meant well. "This better not be a waste of my time. I've got better things to be doing."

"Yeah, yeah," Leon says sarcastically with a wave of his hand as he made a sudden stop, which almost causes Piers to bump into the purple haired man at full force if he didn't stop beforehand. "I think this is the right place."

"You think?" questions Piers as he looks at the front of the establishment. They spent the last ten minutes looking for a cafe that some strange girl works at or frequents often. The outside of the cafe itself was quaint enough, it had a few tables and chairs for outdoor lounging and Piers could only imagine what the inside looked like.

"You coming?" Leon asks, pulling the rockstar out his thoughts. The champion was holding the door for the pale male, which causes him to blush and enter the establishment. The inside was rustic with its warm browns, taupes, and creams filling the place. The place honestly reminded Piers of the buildings in Turffield.

"Lee!" came an excited female voice, which pulls the Dark type trainer out of his thoughts. Man, what was up with him and his thoughts today? The female voice seems to cause a strange Pokemon to jump into Leon's arms, causing the said male to laugh in amusement. Why does the Pokemon look like a creepy doll?

"Come on Banette, back to your mother," Leon says with a smile as the Pokemon let out an excited cry before returning to its trainer.

"Geez, I know you're excited to see him, but not in front of so many people, it's embarrassing," the same female voice said, scolding her Pokemon like an actual child. The talking female had long blond hair that was tucked into a black beanie, dark brown, almost black eyes, and extremely fair skin that put Piers' to shame. Almost immediately, Piers could tell that her hair wasn't naturally blond, due to the darker roots peeking out from under her beanie. "Anyways, I'm glad you got here at a decent time. You and your sense of direction is absolutely shit, Leon."

"Only ten minutes late. I think that's a new record," Sonia teases as she looks down at the time on her phone.

"Definitely a new record, I'll say," laughs Nessa as she sipped on her drink.

"I do not get lost," Leon counters with a grin as he leads Piers to sit with them. Not like the rockstar had a choice in the matter, anyways. Raihan, Nessa, and Sonia were all familiar to him, Leon included; so why was the faux blond female the only stranger to him? Piers would certainly remember someone with blond hair and such a unique Pokemon.

"Oh, Piers, this is Marionette," Raihan said as the said girl shyly waved at the rockstar before returning to her conversation with Nessa and Sonia.

"Not going to bother introducing me, eh?" Piers grumbles as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, seemingly bored. He was ready to go home and be productive, not. Piers would have wasted his day away, sleeping, if Leon hadn't barged into his home in Spikemuth at 8:30 that morning.

"She already knows who you are, dumbass," Raihan sighs with a shake of his head.

"Not only is she a big fan of your music, but she also used to be a gym leader," Leon was the one to speak this time, causing Piers to look at him curiously, indicating for the champion to continue. "Stow-on-Side Gym to be exact. She retired a few months ago, though."

"Quit acting like I'm not here," Marionette retorts sarcastically as she turns in her chair to face the three men, who looked like deer caught in headlights. The three women giggled after sharing a knowing look. "I retired from being a gym leader because I wanted to pursue other things. Allister is doing a fine job running the gym, don't you think?"

"I didn't say anything, though," says Piers, a look of bewilderment on his face.

"You didn't have to," the faux blond female states with a small smile on her face. "Your face said it all. Ness, Sonia, would you like to join me for some shopping?" A string of 'hell yeah' and 'obviously,' choruses throughout the small group of females as they got up and waved at the men when they finally left the cafe after getting new drinks for the road.

"Is she always that cryptic?" Piers mutters as he watched the retreating figures of the three females through the window of the cafe, his head now laying on the table. They were a strange group of friends, Piers had to admit. Hell, if Leon and Raihan could befriend Piers, they could befriend someone as strange as Marionette.

"She's been like that since we were kids," Leon says, a frown on his usually bright face. "Marionette predicted the gender of Mum's baby when she was 3 months pregnant with Hop."

"Maybe she said it to fuck with your Mum?" Raihan counters with a nervous chuckle.

"We were five."

"Really?"

"Really," says Leon, sipping on the cup of overly sweet coffee that he had gotten when the two arrived. "There was no way she could've known that my mother was pregnant with Hop. She had just moved here from Kanto."

"She isn't from here?" Piers asks, as he had been quietly listening to the conversation between the two colored males. "But her accent."

"It's fake for the most part, yeah?" Raihan hums to himself, causing Leon to nod. "I wouldn't know, though. I only met her a couple of months ago."

"Where at?" Piers asks, humming slightly in interest. He didn't bother picking up his head, as he found himself comfortable.

"We met through Nessa, though," Raihan says with a matching hum. He has a distant look on his face, which looks odd on Raihan's usually cocky features. "Marionette said she participated in the Gym Challenge ten years ago. Which is strange, because I would remember seeing someone as unique as her."

[theseadagiodays]

May 4, 2020

This is Not a Performance

Irving H Bolano’s incredible repurposed newspaper fashion for the Met Gala Challenge on Twitter #HFMetGala2020

May the Fourth be With You as you reach the next chapter of this current sci-fi drama we seem to be living through.   As the saying goes, reality can be stranger than fiction.   But it just happens to be a many red-eyed virus rather than an evil, black-masked father that we’re fighting as we all walk around like Storm Troopers.  

There are so many aspects of our lives, during Covid, which make it feel like we are actors in a make-believe story.   First of all, we’ve all become movie stars, with our faces, homes, and even pets showcased on our own silver screens.  As isolated as we are, our private lives now play out in the public sphere more than ever - no paparazzi required.    For some, this invasion of privacy is unwelcomed. But for many people, it satisfies a secret longing to share themselves with a wider audience.  After all, deep down, everyone wants to be seen and heard (I guess, me included, since I have this blog, after all).  It’s why TikTok and YouTube and Facebook have become multi-billion dollar companies so quickly.  And now, while this pandemic is a harsh daily reminder of the impermanence of all things, it makes sense that these digital missives are an attempt to seek immortality, in some strange way.

As someone whose work responds to human’s need to have a voice, I truly get why this is the case.  And I love that this time has turned housewives into opera stars, and health care workers into hip hop dancers, and housepets into circus performers. But, at the same time, I have become very aware of the masks that we wear, even inside our homes, to portray a certain self to the world that may stray quite far from our authentic selves.  The expression “dance like no one is watching” acknowledges the fact that we all tend to perform when we have an audience, and perhaps we’re only truly ourselves when we don’t.   I understand that the way we “perform” ourselves online gives each of us a chance to reinvent the fictions we want our stories to have.   So, while I surely take some guilty pleasure from intimate glimpses into strangers’ lives, I also do so with a certain skepticism about the veracity of what I’m seeing.  

This became particularly true for me when I received a recent link from my friend and amazing singer/songwriter, Dominique Fricot. Capitalizing on this current trend of oversharing, he cleverly asked his fans to film their morning routines for the music video of his new song, Wake Up, by his duo, Flora Falls.  Dom’s warm tenor voice blended with his partner’s breathy tones feel just like a lazy morning in bed.  But I’ll leave it up to you to decide just how accurate these portrayals of people’s idyllic daytime rituals actually are.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EbsqXou5FeY

May 5, 2020

Homeschool Heroes

About twenty years ago,  I was invited to adjudicate a youth music competition in the Yukon.  Travelling to one of the northernmost inhabited spots on earth, I imagined that my greatest surprise might have been a polar bear or Northern Lights sighting.  But it turned out to be something entirely different.  Among the 25,000 residents of the thriving metropolis of Whitehorse exists a treasure trove of talent.  I could not believe the incredibly honed skills and nuanced expression with which these 11-18 year-olds played.   Wondering why, I developed a theory that I now call SLoW: Sheltered Living Wonder.  When long, dark days, cold climates or pandemics force people indoors, they tend to spend inordinate amounts of time on creative endeavors and skill development.  In other words, they slow down and take time for wonder.

This theory has surely applied during these past few months of sheltering in place.   One of the most remarkable examples has been the inventiveness that many of my friends have brought to their first attempts with homeschooling.   So, I wanted to give a few shout outs to some of these Homeschool Heroes and the highly imaginative projects they’ve done with their kids.

Stunning Easter Eggs made from natural materials and dye, by my friend Jane Cox and her kids  (Botany lesson)

Candy Covid virus, made by Amelia, my friend Jen Sanke’s daughter, as she learned about the virus’ proteins (Biology lesson)

But perhaps the prize for most complex homeschool project has to go to my architect friend, Bryn Davidson, who upon returning from Australia, in late March, had to fully quarantine for 2-weeks.  So, with his 5-year old son Bei as helper, this Physics lesson allowed him to enjoy home delivery beer while in isolation.  Just brilliant!

https://youtu.be/FF9-2dWoUtc

May 6, 2020

Living in livestream

So today, 5 million British Columbian’s awaited our “sentence” with baited breath, as word spread that our provincial prime minister would deliver the Re-Open BC plan at 3 pm.   I have to admit, it felt a bit like when you were “grounded” as an adolescent and then your parents returned certain privileges to you.  Of course, I’m well aware that our province has already been far more licentious than many places around the globe.  We’ve been fortunate to maintain reasonably low numbers of infection (just over 2,000), with counts as low as 8 new cases per day, at this point. So, while our provincial parks closed, our beaches never did.  While we were encouraged, within a reasonable range of home, to be active outdoors, we were not restricted to walks only within the 100 metre radius of our house, as my Israeli friends were.  And while we could still shop at gardening and furniture stores, to make sheltering at home more enjoyable, New Zealanders had nothing but grocery stores and pharmacies open, for two months.  

I have sensed the gratitude my fellow Vancouverites have felt about these privileges.  But that does not mean that we aren’t still anxious to return to other aspects of living which we’ve missed.  When lockdown began, ominously on the Ides of March (the 15th), I’d harboured a secret hope that certain restrictions might be lifted on my birthday (exactly two months later).  And it turns out that Phase Two of the BC ReOpen plan will commence on May 19th, just 4 days later than I’d hoped.  What I most look forward to experiencing again are small gatherings with friends, (we’ll soon be allowed to socialize in public with up to 10 people); meals inside certain restaurants and pubs (those that are able to function within WorkPlace BC’s safety regulations); visits to registered massage therapists; and hugs with select people, (”using one’s own ‘risk assessment’.”)

But in the long-range plan, the harsh reality for artists has been laid out, as Phase Four (which includes resuming large-venue concerts, conventions, and international travel) can not occur until either a vaccine has been developed, an effective treatment plan is widely available, or herd immunity is achieved.  And this is not estimated to occur until mid-2021 or later.  So, the prospects are still bleak for symphony orchestras, opera and dance companies, artists who perform in crowded bars, or musicians who travel for arena shows and festivals.  This likely means that in order to satisfy audiences’ need to access live performance, and for artists to continue to share their creativity,  livestream formats will still have to persist for some time.  Therefore, I thought I’d share a few regular weekly livestream arts events here, both from Vancouver, LA & NY.

Canadian National Live Art Champion, Dmitri Sirenko, who we featured at our non-profit’s annual benefit on February 20th, 2020

Every Monday Night at 7 pm PST (Vancouver) Poetry Slam: https://www.facebook.com/Vancouverpoetryslam/

Every Thursday at 5 pm PST (LA): LIVE Art Battles - Watch painters do their magic in just 20 minutes: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWJoWGVwzGtk99nTOCib9vg

Every Thursday at 8 pm EST (NY): Spotlight on Plays - famous actors perform readings of theatre pieces, online: https://www.broadwaysbestshows.com/post/the-best-of-series/

May 7, 2020

Collateral Blessings

So many thoughtful writers are adding to the discourse, as we all strive to make meaning from what can feel like a senseliess time.  I have so appreciated the abundance with which people are sharing these missives, right now.  Every day, bursts of inspiration or flickers of insight come my way, thru texts, emails and Facebook.  Like adventurers, traveling together thru the dark of night, we shine light on guideposts, anywhere we can find them, as we collectively quench each other’s thirst for wisdom.  

One of the most profound writings I‘ve recently discovered came from a stranger’s blog.  In The Examined Family, Courtney Martin, without ever diminishing the gravity of the havoc that this virus has wreaked, writes about some of the assets that have also come out of this time.  New friendships with neighbors.  A long-neglected puzzle completed with her kids.   The time to draw and truly notice an artichoke in her back garden. My good friend Juan calls these collateral blessings.  This reference to the accidental gifts that this cruel virus has given us, is a beautiful twist on “collateral damage”, a term coined to explain accidental friendly-fire deaths during the Gulf War.  Commenting on the anticipatory nostalgia that she projects she will feel about certain things, once this time has passed, Courtney writes:

“I instantly feel overwhelmed at the prospect of schedules and stuff. I don’t want to go back to our former accumulation or frenetic pace. I don’t want to stop texting (my neighbor) my little triumphs. I don’t want to forget about the artichokes in the garden. I don’t ever want to forget this happened--the grief and the beauty of it. I’m not even sure that will be possible, but if it were, I wouldn’t want it. I don’t want to vote like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to eat like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to consume like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to schedule like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to mother or daughter or befriend or neighbor like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to sit inside this little life, noticing and appreciating and breathing, like it didn’t happen. There is unnecessary suffering all around me, and inside of me, too, but there is also necessary meaning. May we hold on to that.”      

You can read her full entry here: https://courtney.substack.com/p/unnecessary-suffering-and-necessary?token=eyJ1c2VyX2lkIjo3OTg0NDcyLCJwb3N0X2lkIjozNzU1NDMsIl8iOiJCTnk2VyIsImlhdCI6MTU4NzA1MjgyMCwiZXhwIjoxNTg3MDU2NDIwLCJpc3MiOiJwdWItMjA5MjIiLCJzdWIiOiJwb3N0LXJlYWN0aW9uIn0.puI9NMne-783ypInpvTkJ96T237WcrTo2ItDhqlkMiY

May 8, 2020

Nostalgia

I’m rarely one prone to nostalgia.  My childhood photo albums are in storage.  I have no family heirlooms displayed in my home.  My tendency is to revel in the present or dream about the future.  But this pandemic has strangely turned me into a sentimental fool.  Perhaps this return to simpler times, where we seldom shop, where we wander mostly by foot, or where we get to know our neighbors better, makes us long for the past in certain ways.  

For me, I’ve honored this by resurrecting my daily teenage Twizzler habit - a candy I’ve rarely eaten since then, but that now feels so satisfying during my Netflix & Chill evenings (while watching films almost as old like Groundhog Day & Anchorman).  

I’m also listening a lot to Old School Hip Hop, where the explative-free rhymes of the 90’s feel so strangely innocent.  It’s refreshing to listen to these musicians spit verses that merely celebrate the joys of dance and rap, rather than ranting about gun violence and other societal ills.  Run DMC It’s Tricky (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-O5IHVhWj0) and Beastie Boys Body Movin’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvRBUw_Ls2o) happen to be personal favorites.  

Last month, I was tickled by an old memory while planting a lilac bush in my backyard.  I suddenly remembered a story about my college boyfriend, whom I hadn’t thought of in 30 years.  Our relationship started a bit secretively, so as not to hurt his ex’s feelings.  So, one May afternoon, we snuck away to a distant park that was hosting a Lilac Festival.  Unfortunately, our ruse was quickly spoiled when a candid photo of our picnic under the purple blooms was plastered all over the front page of the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle the next morning.  

Another sweet memory returned in culinary form. Every Tuesday, for 7 years, my mother selflessly drove me an hour from home and back, for my flute lesson.  And to break up the long drive, we regularly stopped at Bickford’s Pancake House for my favorite adolescent treat: breakfast for dinner. Their specialty was the Dutch Baby Apple.  And I finally made my first homemade attempt at this deceptively easy delicacy, last Tuesday.  

This has also been a time to return to bedtime stories (some I’ve read to friends’ kids, and others for adults to hear.)  The Great Realisation by British performance artist, Tom Foolery, has been making the social media rounds. But in case you missed this touching tale that looks back on this time as if the tale is being told in a not-so-distant future, it’s a wistful story about some aspects of modern life that we may never long for in the future:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw5KQMXDiM4