#I hope to finish the second piece for may 4th at... some point in the future

[kindlythevoid]

(Here is the link to the recipe:)

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

[no1frogfan]

Impending, part 2

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, drugs (smokin a joint), semi-public sex (barely), fingering, p in v

Note: Vegeta fuckers rise up. (But for real everyone knows Android 18 is where it’s at.) I think this piece makes clear how big the Mattsun-shaped hole in my heart is. Thank you @prettyiwa for your keen editing eye :* And idk if you wanted to keep getting tagged in this series mica but in case you do @princesskazuya

part 1 | part 3

The first time he met you, Makki had invited him over to play games after school. It was only the second week of 4th grade, but they’d hit it off immediately. He was aware Makki had two siblings, and even though he was younger than Makki, Issei was still the oldest in his own family and the oldest among his cousins, so he was pretty sure his mature energy would garner your respect.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that…it didn’t.

Actually, you were the one who impressed him. You seemed to know all the things that middle schoolers knew and elementary schoolers didn’t, and right away he found himself on the back foot, wanting you to recognize him as an equal.

The second time he went to Makki’s house, he went prepared. This time, he was going to get more than a quick glance from you, so he picked out the coolest shirt he owned — dark gray, oversized, with Vegeta going Super Saiyan plastered across the front. When you opened the door and feigned a cough to hide your laugh, he realized he’d misfired again.

When he thinks back on his childhood memories of you, they were invariably like this — you out of reach and him just behind, you ahead and him in pursuit.

You were always polite to him, never mean, but never overly friendly either. And why would you be? He was the annoying friend of your annoying little brother. The two of them were constantly following you around trying to get you to take them to high school parties where they were sure they’d get their first sip of beer and their first kiss.

It’s just that somewhere along the way, he started hoping you would be his first kiss.

But the four-year age gap meant he didn’t get much of a chance. By the time he got to high school, you were away at college, and by the time he graduated college, well, you’d already started making headway with your career in Sendai, or so Makki said.

In that time, he’d graduated high school, college too, and now he’s pretty established in the family business. He still hangs out with Makki all the time, and he’s a fixture in the Hanamaki household, always making sure to visit your parents along with his own. It’s just that whenever he came over, you’d either just left, or were yet to arrive. The timing was never right.

The desire to impress you faded to near-nonexistence over the years. Near non-existence, because a tiny little part of him still keeps track of how long it’s been since he last saw you (until today: 11 years). So when Makki invited him over for a family barbecue and mentioned offhandedly that you were home visiting, well, that tiny little part of him may have decided to trade the usual basketball shorts and faded t-shirt for the shorts that hug his thighs and the shirt that shows off the physique he’s kept up even after volleyball.

He knew he’d have to endure some teasing, but he’s used to it at this point.

(Makki took one look at him in the doorway and doubled over laughing, “It’s never gonna happen, bro.”

Mattsun just shrugged. “Can’t blame me for wanting to shoot my shot.”

Makki did not like that turn of phrase.)

Anyway, he’s probably over you at this point. He’d almost convinced himself of that until the moment you appeared at the top of the basement steps.

Maybe there’s something about the basement. Back then, he was always playing games down here with Makki. The tv screen was much smaller at the time, and the basement wasn’t fully finished. The walls hadn’t been painted, the floor was just concrete, and the only furniture was a paint-stained coffee table, a lumpy old sofa, and a dirty bean bag chair. Your parents gave them their privacy though, and kept the old fridge downstairs stocked with soda, so to him, it was basically heaven.

You usually left him and Makki alone, but sometimes if you were really bored, or if it was too hot upstairs, or you were supposed to watch them while your parents were out, you’d hang out down here and play a round or two. Sometimes you’d complain about your friends or whoever you were dating at the time, and Makki would always take their side and he would always take yours, and afterward you’d jokingly berate your brother, Why can’t you be nice to me like Issei?

The way you called his name today with that pleased little lilt made his insides twist into familiar knots. When he chanced a peek…you looked stunning, even better than he remembered. Especially with a radiant glow from the afternoon sun, beads of sweat disappearing into your cleavage, and thighs spilling out of tiny denim shorts.

He felt nervous, hyperaware of you sitting behind them on the couch. So when Makki reached over to bat at his controller, he channeled that anxious energy into shoving back.

In retrospect, it was more than a little childish to think he could impress you by wrestling your brother. Wrestling? Really? What are they, ten years old? He regretted it as soon as Makki left and the adrenaline wore off. He’s a grown man now, with plenty of experience under his belt, so how come you’re still able to make him feel like this?

Mattsun tried to play it off while he figured out another tactic, but then… When you leaned in to take the controller out of his hands, he thought you hesitated, just for a second, like you were caught off guard.

And when he sat back against the couch, he thought you seemed fidgety, like maybe the couch was uncomfortable.

And then when he — let’s be honest — completely fucking panicked and just laid himself across your lap because he couldn’t keep his hands off you, and your voice got all throaty, like…he’s even not sure what.

When you shoved him off and retreated into the couch, when he saw the agitated rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples poked through the thin fabric of your crop top, when you looked everywhere but at him—

That’s when it clicked. Maybe, just maybe, he finally had a chance.

He barely remembers the race, so dizzying was this revelation.

He ignored Makki’s curious look when he didn’t lie back down on the floor. He hoped you didn’t mind how sweaty his palm was when he pushed himself up next to you instead. You’d stiffened, keeping your gaze resolutely focused on your phone, even though you’d stopped scrolling.

Now that you’re within reach, he doesn’t want to let go of this chance. To ghost his lips on the skin of your neck. To make his desire plain to you. To know if you want him too.

When you look up, a reply on your lips…

Makki yawns. Your face drops.

Of course.

He’s an idiot.

He was so high on the barest glimmer of a chance with you that he forgot all about Makki. Of course you’d be worried about how your brother might feel. You have no idea that Makki is well aware of his crush on you.

So when you run off, leaving him behind yet again, he fights the urge to chase. That little inkling of interest had made him impatient. Can you blame him, though? He’s been chasing after you for as long as he can remember. He’s sure of what he wants. But, he reminds himself, this is all new for you.

So for the first time, he doesn’t pursue you.

Don’t rush.

Slow down.

He plays a few more rounds with Makki and waits.

He goes upstairs and helps with the cooking and waits.

He grabs another beer and talks to your parents and waits.

But his patience has limits. Eventually, he can’t quell the antsiness crawling up his body and sneaks off while Makki is waylaid by one of your uncles.

When he doesn’t see you inside, he slips out to the backyard. It’s cool outside now that the sun is just a sliver on the horizon, and quiet since everyone has retreated indoors. He walks around to the side of the house.

A lighter clicks in his periphery, and for a blink, it illuminates you, hidden in a corner between the plum tree and the stone fence.

Your head snaps up at the crunch of gravel under his shoes.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

He ducks under the branches, stopping a few feet away.

“Yup, just me.”

You bring a skinny joint up to your lips and take a deep drag, turning to blow the smoke away from him.

“Needed some air?” He keeps his tone light.

“Something like that.”

He’s slept around, he’s dated, might have even fallen in love once, but there’s something unshakeable about a first crush. Maybe it’s just you that’s unshakeable. He’d dismissed it as a teenage obsession, but the ember he believed had turned to ash has roared to life.

The uncertainty is clear in your posture, yet your gaze flits over him when you think he’s not looking — eyes, lips, shoulders, chest, eyes again — or maybe you just think the haze of dusk gives you some cover.

You hold the joint out with one hand. “Want some?”

He steps into the narrow gap between you and the fence and, bending down, lifts your (surprisingly pliant) hand to his mouth. He tries not to tower over you, but in this confined space it’s hard not to.

He purses his lips gingerly around the tips of your fingers and inhales.

Breathing out slowly, his eyes stay locked on yours.

Your face remains neutral, but he feels the quickening of your pulse under his fingers when he lets go.

You step back to lean against the trunk. Before you can take another puff, he plucks the joint from you.

“Hey, give it back!”

He holds it up out of your reach. “Didn’t think you of all people would smoke.”

You roll your eyes. “I could say the same for you.”

“I guess some things change. And some things don’t.”

“Suppose so,” you admit.

You stare at the joint slowly burning down in his hand.

“Makki knows, you know,” he assures, gauging your reaction.

You frown in confusion. “That I smoke?”

He laughs. “No. He knows that I’m interested.”

Your frown deepens, and he adds, “I didn’t ask for his blessing or anything, but he’s never had a problem, so I’m pretty sure he’s ok with it.”

At that, you meet his eyes — yeah, he might finally have a chance.

He takes a deep drag, and before you can react, he presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke softly into your mouth. He follows it with his tongue, delicate and testing. You open for him, soft like velvet and just a bit bitter from the beer.

When you don’t reciprocate, he reluctantly pulls away.

You evaluate him thoughtfully before snatching the nub from him. Taking one last puff, you snuff it against the fence, pull him down by the front of his shirt, and smash your lips against his. He eagerly welcomes your tongue, groaning when your sharp incisors pinch his bottom lip.

Your hands run up the back of his neck, roam over his broad shoulders, slide down his toned arms. You lift his hands and settle them on your hips, and before he realizes, he’s picking you up off the ground, wrapping your legs around him, and pinning you against the fence.

You pant as he nestles his face in the curve of your neck, licking and nipping restlessly, careful not to leave any marks for Makki or the rest of your family to find.

His fingers glide up your stomach, sneak under your top, to trace the curve of your breast.

“Do you know how hard you made me earlier when I saw you weren’t wearing a bra?” He growls into your shoulder.

You shiver at his admission, nipples hardening in his palms.

“And then Makki came back and I had to sit there and pretend like I wasn’t just fantasizing about fucking you into the couch?”

He grinds his hips, making you squirm, chuckling when he pulls back and you chase after the friction. “Mmm— yeah? You want me to?”

“Yeah, I want you to,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me, Issei.”

As soon as he sets you down, you start tugging at your shorts and underwear, but before you can even get them to your knees, he’s twisted you around and bent you over against the stone.

He curses as he slips one finger into your soaking cunt, followed quickly by a second. You writhe against his hand, biting back moans as he works them against your slick walls.

“Fuck you’re so wet already. Want this cock that bad, huh?”

“Fuck off Issei,” you whine, “you’re the one who popped a boner w— fuuuck…”

He plunges a third finger inside.

“What was that?”

“Just fucking…shut up and fuck me.”

He tsks, “Was gonna prep you more, but…” But honestly, he’s this close to cumming in his pants. He frees his cock and lines himself up, swooning when it prods against your entrance.

He sinks in. Not in one thrust, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and because he wants to savor this. But not slowly either, because his patience is worn down to nothing.

“Oh sh— Issei…you’re huge,” you grit out, all the while shoving your ass back to take him in faster.

As soon as you’ve sucked all of him in and his hips rest flush against your pussy, the last thread of his self-control snaps and he’s mindlessly rutting into you. He can’t bear to pull out more than a inch or two before slamming back in, hips snapping with loud claps that almost muffle the sloppy squelch of your cunt.

He pulls you up, needing to feel as much of you against him as possible. One arm circles your waist and the other hand wraps around to clutch at your chest.

Your lewd moans and the way your pussy clenches around his cock makes him lightheaded. He’s lost in your slick walls, soft heat, unable to slow down.

It’s too late to wonder if his fingers are digging into you a little too hard because he’s already about to—

He shoves a hand between your legs to fumble at your clit, it’s clumsy, but you’re just so— he’s praying you cum before he loses it.

The last thing he sees is you clapping a hand over your mouth.

He feels you start to spasm right as he pulls out, blindly reaching down to pump himself once, twice before his vision goes dark.

His chest is still heaving when he regains his senses. You’re panting beside him, clinging to the cold stone, gobs of cum splattering your back and the curve of your ass.

He reaches over to brush away the hair stuck to your forehead.

“I’ll go get some tissues,” he murmurs, tucking himself back into his shorts.

He jogs toward the house, straightening his clothes before slipping inside. Luckily, everyone seems to have migrated into the living room because he doesn’t pass a soul as he grabs some toilet paper from the nearest bathroom before returning.

He’s tender when he tidies you up, gently wiping off your back, swallowing your whimpers with a kiss as he cleans up your oversensitive cunt.

Dimly, something primal wells up in him. Is that weird? To feel elated to be wiping his cum off you?

To feel like, after all this time, he’s finally caught up.

[author-a-holmes]

ARC REVIEW: Wrath and Wraiths by Andrew Claydon

Chronicles of the Dawnblade Book Four

I have so much to say about this book and ALL of it is good!

If you’ve been following my reviews of this Epic Fantasy Adventure by Andrew Claydon, you’ll know that the beginning of Book 3 had left me a little unsteady about the tone the series was taking, but while ‘The Odd Sea’ recovered in the second half, ‘Wrath and Wraiths” has blown all of my concerns out of the water from Chapter One.

It’s a masterpiece of storytelling, once again filled to the brim with Claydon’s unmistakeably humor. Dry, witty, and a joy to read, and even though the middle of November is the busiest time of my year, once I dipped a toe inside the front cover, I couldn’t stop myself from finishing the whole book.

Especially when, after only two chapters, Nicholas is separated from the rest of the main cast in a way that leaves you utterly on the edge of your seat. I simply couldn’t stop then, I had to keep going to find out how Andrew Claydon was going to fix the mess he’d put Nick in this time!

The poor man never seems to get a break but, by now, he’s beginning to learn how to roll with the punches. Literally! And the character progression is not only wonderfully portrayed, it’s a joy to watch Nick grow into his own a little... while still bumbling through the odd mistake that humanizes him in a way that really makes this whole series a refreshing take on the fantasy genre.

A surprise in book four of the series, was getting a second point of view, but because of the way in which Nick is isolated for a majority of the story, it was also a sorely needed point of view.

For my part, I loved reading some of the story from Shift’s perspective! Not only do I have a soft spot for thieves, getting to see inside the headspace of some of the other characters is always a delight, and seeing them cope (Or NOT cope, as the case may be) with Nick’s untimely absence was as fascinating as it was enlightening.

I do hope the dual POV can be continued in future books, or possibly some other POV’s from other characters if the plot/situation fits.

The plot for book four was incredibly well woven, and tightly put together, but I still spotted a few threads related to Nick’s other compantions that I can see have been left for future books that I cannot wait to find out how the author is going to address.

And since Book 9 is currently being written, I know I have plenty to look forward to. My congratulations go out to Andrew for once again crafting a wonderful piece of storytelling. The paperback will be gracing my bookshelves as soon as release day hits (Counting the days to DECEMBER 4TH!)

I received a free copy of this book from the author and am voluntarily leaving my honest review.

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Two things I'm chewing on post- Umbrella Academy Season 3.

HEAVY SPOILERS

The First one is old!five, in a separate post over here.

The second one is: Allison’s arc, and how the siblings respond to it, and what we may see going forward

-

The show doesn't have the greatest track record with following character arcs... Some of Viktor's isolation from the first season is addressed in the second season etc, and they do in general you know seem to mature and change somewhat. Klaus probably has one of the most distinct arcs of anyone, and that's actually (I expect)for the same reason that Victor does, because it's connected to their power use... But in general, arc continuity is patchy.

So, an element of second season I hope not to see repeated is that because of the length of time that the characters experience between first and second season, a lot of them felt to me like we didn't have to deal with their characters from the first season. Character problems they had or interpersonal issues etc we're dropped or smoothed over with that transition. Now, I'm hoping that is a direct result of the time weirdness at the beginning of second season, and we're not going to see that in fourth. I'm hoping that that fourth will resume pretty much immediately where third left off.

Allison's grief and anger spiral, her failure to deal with that, her lashing out and escalation of power use was a lot this season, and it was handled inconsistently and in my opinion not particularly well by the other characters.

I'm curious whether that's because the writers aren't sure how to handle it, or weren't noticing how far they've taken it... Or if it's a case of something that they're planting now to be used later.

In the following sections, I will say things like “I was frustrated”, and I want to be clear: since we do not obviously know where 4th season will go, assuming they get that last season they are hoping for, it’s possible that some of the things I mention are intentional on the part of the writers, and I/we are Meant to be frustrated! That’s cool. Not knowing if we are Intended to feel frustrated with a character, or if it’s accidental and it’s really the writers that are frustrating, is one of the pitfalls of talking about stuff before it’s done. So when I say things like “I was frustrated”, please keep that in mind, that I am discussing my own response to the behavior / portrayal of a fictional character whose arc is not yet finished. This is not intended as any kind of critique of how Real People in the Real World do or should handle their trauma.

Thanks.

Long-ish exploration of Allison’s S3 choices under the cut.

I was very frustrated. I was frustrated, feeling like she was spending a lot of time blaming anyone and everyone and lashing out, and not nearly so much time actually working through things, or owning up to pieces of her own behavior, or seeking help from her siblings, particularly siblings who may actually have a chance of understanding and having good advice. (The fact that this is a perfectly fine arc for a character to go through, if it’s paid off later, doesn’t make it not frustrating, if that’s the plan. things can be frustrating and Also good writing.)

(though, a point in the column of it being a writing mistake is potentially not-great handling wrt racial dynamics. This is not my topic to speak on, but Even I felt like it was a bit weird that she was the only one with much awareness the civil rights movement was going on in S2. Like sure, it’‘l hit her differently, obviously, and she has the potential to be more/differently caught up in it, but it does at time feel like shes on a veeeery different show than the others. with awk crossovers. So the idea the writing may be uniquely awk for her in other places isn’t a bad one.)

It’s a pretty standard Umbrella move for the siblings to not be Particularly aware of what’s going on with each other... whole plot lines are built on it, Whole siblings go missing without notice, whole wars are fought in vietnam... etc.

But for Viktor and Allison, they have apparently talked some already! So for once, that shouldn’t be the issue. and they should have the most in common. both lost partners, though obviously of different lengths and intensities, and to a certain degree they both lost children. Victor didn't birth his, but there's no way he didn't feel parental about Harlan (which, God, makes Allison's decision there all the worse and more despicable). And they both were living in a time period where their identities were restricted/marginalized/criminalized.

They should have some traumas in common, they should have some griefs in common. He could have been a good source of support and advice for her.

Because whether his experience was shorter in that era, or he learned a lot more about how to deal with his emotions and trauma after the disastrous end of the first season/revelations of second (possibly partly because he knows now at high cost that he can't afford to lash out, that too many people get hurt if he lashes out, if his self-control fails)... Viktor seems able to take his similar losses and griefs and experiences and grow from them now, and move on, where Allison is very much still stuck in her grief and trauma, and also is fundamentally unable/unwilling to see that there is any element of her own behavior in it.

I'm obviously not trying to like blame her for her own trauma and loss top-to-bottom... I'm just remembering the way in which her original loss of her daughter was because of her own mistake / misuse of her power. She would not have been available/willing to go hang out with them at Reginald's funeral in the first place, and thereby get caught up in all the other family drama and dragged back to the '60s and all of that, had she not been estranged from her new family because of her own mistake.

When you add to that the fact that a logical assumption about changing the past will be that it changes the future, it definitely should have been a risk people were acknowledging that when they got to the future something like her kid not having been born was a possibility.

I think it's a possibility that other characters had acknowledged, incl non-viktor characters, and that's why there were a few comments sort of urging her to wait or be cautious when she went to look for her daughter... And I would have rather seen her anger directed more broadly on that subject, than again straight at Viktor and then Harlan, who we know was innocent. Like he did it, but it was an accident and sort of an understandable one.

I personally just couldn't stop thinking about that anytime she got mad and attributed this whole mess solely to Viktor. Like friend, you had some agency in that. Specifically, you had some agency in your original estrangement from your family, and you had some agency in what happened to Viktor and the ways in which he was pushed into the explosion in that first season. And you're not owning up to any of that. It would obviously be very painful to own up to it, but you're not owning up to any of it and that's helping you get self-righteous about it and completely externalize your anger and hurt. It’s obviously devastating to have gone through all of this, and to have made the hard choice to leave your partner for your daughter, and suuuuuper devastating to make that exchange and lose them both... but yeah. Diving into anger instead, while not unexpected, is obvs not good.

And we see on the show that it's escalating, from her willingness to assault Luther, to outright murder of a vulnerable and (mostly)innocent man. This is not like five making his way through the time agency. She could have handed Harlan over alive. With her power? Absolutely. Instead, she chose to kill him, she wanted to kill him, and he was very vulnerable at that point. And again, more or less innocent.

She chose to kill someone who she knew couldn't fight back and was likely viewed by Viktor as a sort of adoptive kid.

So we have that, that feels like it was not addressed as deeply as I would have liked, and we have her attempting to SA Luther (Which, in universe I can maybe see why someone with his backstory mightn't have given that more weight, could have been more likely to just sort of default back to the fact that these kinds of things happen to him, his bodily agency is violated multiple times over the course of his life, I can see why he might not have given that quite as much weight, not as much as it deserves, might not have held her to account as strongly as I feel she should have been)...

And we have Five and the others spending a lot more time critiquing Viktor (Viktor who did lie to them again, and we can see why they would be concerned about his lying, but was lying to them in order to protect someone he views a little bit as his kid and definitely as his fault/ responsibility... This is Viktor's fatal flaw, and a good one since you understand why he continues to end up in these positions... I appreciate the uncertainty in Harlan's portrayal where there were a few moments where you thought perhaps he was evil and Viktor had fallen for the exact same damn ploy once more), and the sibs not really censuring Allison until she crosses that line and makes the basement comment to Viktor. Which is a big red line that they finally recognize as a line since that's what originally pushed Viktor over the edge, to everyone's detriment, in first season.

So. Do the rest of the siblings not speak out on her behavior more/sooner because

1. Messy writing, writers not realizing how far they've pushed this

2. The siblings themselves not noticing how bad Allison is getting, partly as a feature of the normal umbrella academy trope where they do not talk to each other enough, despite all the talking they do

3. Are they seeing it but they don't know what to do about it? They know how to talk to Viktor, now, they know how to correct Viktor. Do they not know how to correct Allison? Are they concerned that if they correct her too much, she will use her power on them? Do they feel so uncomfortable with or ignorant of the trauma she's been through that they don't know how to navigate well enough to correct her? Additionally, there’s a potential arrogance/assumption that she’s more right/more knowledgeable about interpersonal dynamics etc element that's part of her character particularly in the first season that could be brought in here/contribute to this.

I personally am hoping that a lot more of number three is going on, and that we will see some of this addressed in the last season. That we will see her have to face more seriously the nature of her power and face the fact that when the going gets tough and she gets frustrated or upset, then she drops her moral reservations against using her power in certain ways. That we will see other people impose and maintain boundaries with her for these reasons... And that we see her figure out how to, if she can, deal with and live with the traumas and griefs she has experienced. Whether that's by actually asking for support from her family, especially from family members who would get it, or whether that is a more individualistic method of dealing with it.

.

Anyway. I found it fascinating. An enjoyable season for me, much in the line of previous seasons. It had its problems, but again, they were a lot like previous problems I've seen, and did not bother me for the most part.

Here's hoping for a fourth and final season!

[stormtodoroki]

Love Sparks

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x Reader

Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

P.O.V: Reader's

Word Count: 2,644

The knowledge about how and when Quirks came along goes far beyond my family's history, at least I think. My name is Aizawa, (f/n) and I am preparing for my UA entrance exam, thankfully my mother has allowed me to come to Japan from America for schooling. She mentioned something about being able to meet my grandparents as well as my biological father, if I get the chance. She hasn't told me much about him, every time I'd ask her she'd get really mad and tell me not to ask again, but I was persistent, I just had to know. But that's not the only thing I had to know, not only are quirks a fascinating part of our lives but so is the way we find our forever person, our body's receive a shock that courses through our bodies when we make skin to skin contact with our soulmate. 

I stood at the main gates and took a few deep breaths, this was it, the beginning of my future, if I passed this entrance exam I will officially be a hero student at UA High. As I took my steps over the threshold and moved closer to the designated building I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. What if my quirk might not be good enough to get through? What if someone has a similar quirk and they have better control over it than I do? I stopped walking all together and was about to turn around when someone crashed into me. 

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU DAMN EXTRA! STAY OUTTA MY WAY."

I looked up to see what I could only describe as an angry porcupine, his face contorted with rage if I looked at him close enough I'd probably see steam coming out of his ears. I let out a quick apology and nodded, he tsked and walked away grumbling, boy I would hate to be in the same testing area as him, I'm just grateful that I didn't say anything back to him.  I shook my head clear and walked into the building, looking for my number I sat next to a kid who looked like he was in the wrong place, he dressed a bit too formal. I wonder if he's going to take the exam in that? 

I took a quick glance around and gulp, there's a lot of kids here, I knew how prestigious the school was and how low the acceptance rate was, but this was just insane. My attention was soon directed to the front  where- oh my gosh it's the Pro-hero Present Mic., he's giving us the run down for the practical? This should be good. 

Present Mic. walked to the middle of the stage, he turned to all of us and screamed,

"Welcome to today's live performance. Everybody say, hey!"

We were all silent. You could hear crickets chirping. 

"Well, that's cool, my examinee listeners! I'm here to present the guidelines of your practical, are you ready, there was silence, yet again as he screamed, "YEAH! "

Listening to Present Mic. screaming and talking loud like he always does began to give me a headache, rubbing my temples I tried to focus on what he was saying. A few rows or so away, I heard what sounded like muttering, I quietly turned and looked towards it, there was a boy with unruly green hair next to, I can't believe it… it's the angry porcupine from earlier who knocked into me. Though he didn't seem too happy to be next to the green haired boy.

"This is how the test will go, my listeners! You'll be experiencing 10-minute-long "mock cityscape maneuvers"! Bring along whatever you want! After this presentation, each head to your assigned testing location."

"Is that so kids from the same middle school can't help each other out?"

I heard from the duo behind me, shaking my head clear I was happy that I didn't know anyone from Japan so it'd be easier for me to take the test and not worry about  any of my friends who were also trying to get into UA, all I have to do is worry about myself. 

"Each site is filled with 3 kinds of faux villains, points are rewarded for defeating each according to their respective difficulty levels!! Use your quirks to disable, these faux villains and earn points! That's your goal, listeners! Of course, playing the anti-hero and attacking other examinees is prohibited!"

I noticed during this part of Present Mics. explanation, the boy dressed in formal attire next to me was twitching in his seat, he waited for Present Mic. to finish talking before he up abruptly stood up with his hand and paper in the air.

"Excuse me, but if I may ask a question?!"

Oh boy, this ought to be great… 

"There appear to be no fewer than 4 varieties of faux, the one on this handout, such a bland, if it is one, is highly unbecoming for you. Japan's top academy we're all here today in the hopes of being molded into model heroes."

He then turned and pointed to Green Bean. 

"And you with the curly hair, you've been muttering this whole time, it's distracting if this is some sort of game to you then please leave immediately! "

He muttered, sorry and put his hands to his mouth, I covered my mouth with my hand and fought back a giggle. 

"Alright, alright, examinee 7111 nice catch thanks, but the 4th faux villain variety gets you zero points this more of an obstacle, have you all played Super Mario Brothers, the old retro games?"

"It's kind of like a thwomp! Only one at each site, a "gimmick" that will rampage around in close quarters."

I heard quiet murmurs about the zero pointer all around me and just shook my head in pity, clearly this is a decoy. Yes, there may be a zero pointer but it's more likely to be the biggest one there is otherwise there'd be more stationed at each site. They expect us not to worry about said faux villain, yet it'll probably be the most important one in the whole exam, I'll have to keep an eye out for it. 

"Thank you, sir, I apologize for the interruption!"

With that the formal guy next to me took a bow and sat back down. 

"That's all for me, I'll leave my listeners  with our school motto, the great hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said, 'true heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life!' plus ultra!! Break a leg everyone! "

With that everyone got up from their spots and filed out in search of where they were to go.  As I looked around the battle center I was sent to a breathed out a sigh of relief, neither the formal dude or the hot head were in sight. I looked around for the green bean to ask him what the hot head had shoved up his butt, but to my dismay he wasn't assigned to my battle center either.  Looking around I see people meditating and conversing with each other, I don't need to do either. I began walking towards the front of the crowd marveling at the city front before me. I looked around and saw Present Mic. on top of a platform and smiled up at him and waved, like a buffoon he looked and and pointed to himself in confusion then waved back before pointing to the city urgently. 

I took that as my cue to go so I took a deep breath and ran in, I made in about 10 feet into the city before I heard him call out. 

"What are you waiting for?! There are no timers in real battles! Begin!"

I knew if I turned around I'd see all the kids running towards me so I decided to get some air coverage. Sticking my arms and hands out to my sides I shot up into the air leaving a trail of water spiraling down below me. I landed on a high rise and looked around the city, seeing a 1 pointer and a 2 pointer approaching I summoned a ball of water into my hands and contorted it into a spear. 

I began to run and jump the rooftops closer to the faux villains and replicated the spear before throwing them both at each bot, taking them down. As the bots were falling I hopped onto them and used my water to slide down to the ground. Looking around them I did a double check to make sure nobody made it this far and accidentally got crushed by a giant falling robot. After seeing it was clear I decided to make way to the center on food, as I began to jog I heard a scream from behind me. I turned to look and saw a 3 pointer ready to crush a girl with pink hair and what appears to be horns? I looked closer and saw her foot was stuck and she was trying to get out without using her quirk on herself. I definitely wouldn't make it to her by running, so I had to muster up my energy and use my quirk from afar, something I'm not too good at. 

"Hey! Close your eyes!"

The girl looked at me and nodded, I then stood next to one of the fallen faux villain bots and took a stray piece in a ball of water I expanded to its size, quickly I released the piece and expanded the water ball more until it was the size of the bot. I hurled the ball of water at the bot and encased it in my water ball before throwing the water ball into the air, it disappeared from the center and past the clouds. 

"Okay, I may have been a little too extreme… "

I muttered to myself, as I walked over to the girl and helped free her. 

"You good?"

She nodded and thanked me. 

"Don't mention it, just go get some more points for yourself. I'd hate for you not to be able to get in because you were stuck and couldn't stop thanking someone who saved you."

After taking down a few more bots and saving a few people I estimate that I have around 35 points right now which means I should be in good standing. I was so lost in thought that I bumped into someone, they sent a shock through me and I froze for a second before shaking my arm. 

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you with my quirk are you okay?" 

'What? Wait? He hit me with his quirk?'

I cleared my head and looked at him in confusion, that wasn't just the electric shock that goes through your body when you meet your soulmate? 

"Oh…  uh. Don't worry about it. I'm all good."

'Lies, why would I be alright? You know damn well it wasn't your quirk.'

He gave me a look of uncertainty and smiled. 

"Hi, I'm Kaminari Denki. Nice to meet you uh…  what's your name?"

I scoffed internally, 'really? That's how you're gonna ask me my name? Dude just how dense are you?'

"F/n L/n. Crap, sorry. L/N, F/N. Nice to meet you as well Kaminari. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and rack up more points so if you don't mind I'll just be o-"

Kaminari cut me off by yelling. 

"That's a zero pointer! No way! That thing is huge!"

Looking up I saw what he was talking about, I smirked. 

"U.A. definitely lives up to its prestigious name. I am impressed. Wow. This zero pointer is glorious."

Kaminari looked at me like I was insane, as if I somehow sparked a fire in him he puffed out his chest in glee and smirked. 

"All the more reason for me to prove my strength. Stand back L/N I'm gonna light this bot up."

I blinked in surprise as he ran towards the bot and he charged up- no way, he wasn't kidding. Large amounts of electricity sprayed out of his hands to the bot, it froze in place for a few moments with electricity spazzing all around the bots frame, but it didn't go down. Kaminari turned to me and gave me a thumbs up and a dumb look on his face. 

"Kaminari you fool! You fried your brain with that foolish attack!"

The bot soon was out of its shocked state and raised it's foot ready to pummel the poor dunce. I quickly mustered up my strength and formed a water ball and sent it at Kaminari, once he was inside I whipped it at me. Kaminari and the water ball collided into me just as the bot stomped down where Kaminari was seconds before. I stood up and slapped Kaminari, feeling another jolt of electricity surge through me. 

'Awh hell. This fool is my soulmate and he's too dense to realize it's not his quirk.'

I turned to the bot and watched it moved closer before turning back to Kaminari. 

"After this exam you're taking me out for ice cream for saving your fried ass not only once but twice."

I turned back to the bot and sent two water balls towards the next spots where it would step, not satisfied with the ground I sent more until the bot stepped and sunk a few feet. 

"Yes! It worked!"

I happily then made a few water spears and threw them at the bot before I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes and concentrated on a tiny ball of water in my hands, I needed to focus all my energy if I wanted to make this work. I slowly enlarged the ball in my hand and listened as it started to crackle and pop, taking another deep breath I slowly opened my eyes and smirked before shrinking the softball sized water ball and throwing it at the exposed part of the bot. Once it was a foot from contacting the bot I spread my arms out enlarging the crackling ball and watched as it downed the bot. 

I looked to Kaminari and sighed. I need to get him somewhere safe until this wears off, if I leave him here he'll be an easy target for the other bots. I'm pretty sure there's five minutes left meaning I can still get a few more points if I hurry up. I took some gummies out of my pocket and threw them in my mouth, I'm lucky we were allowed to bring things in that would help us, otherwise I'd have been out for the count when I helped that pink girl.  I led Kaminari to a safe area and smirked as a three pointer came out of the alley next to us, I jumped up with my water and formed water around my wrist as I plummeted down and punched the bot. It went down just as Present Mic. screeched. 

"It's all over! Good job everybody! 

Within moments Recovery Girl was by my side looking at Kaminari, she shook her head and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Kaminari blinked and looked around in a state of confusion before looking at me. 

"Come on Kaminari, you owe me an ice cream."

I poked his cheek and was sent another shock of electricity, which he definitely would have felt as all and leaned into his ear. 

"After all we are soulmates, and I just saved your butt."

I gave the shocked boy a knowing smile and grasped his hand and began leasing him away towards the exit. If we both somehow get into the hero course this was going to be one exciting year...

A/N: this is AU prompt was brought upon you thanks to the bnha discord server. You can find other works by member of the discord here:

https://liliesoftherain.tumblr.com/post/614256302090223616/mha-x-reader-discord-prompt-masterlist

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts.Week 23

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist]

Beta: @lunarlxve

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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          June 4th - 10th

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Kim Seokjin - hug

Kim Seokjin had never been hugged. He didn’t know what it felt like, but it always looked nice in movies and dramas. Why has he never been hugged? Well, he was an only child, and his parents went on a lot of overseas work trips. The nanny was an older woman and very stern. He wondered why she was a nanny when she hated children. She hated when they were too loud, hated when they got grubby or ran around, and hated when they talked or asked questions. 

Soon he was a teen, a handsome one but home schooled. Seokjin’s Tutor was an older man who only knew how to read a textbook and scold him. He never got hurt to warrant a hug, was never praised with a hug. Until he bumped into you. No literally bumped into you. The two of you toppled over, chest to chest. The warmth and physical connection sent a spark down his spine. He felt for the first time that he wasn’t alone. Even if it was a mistake that you fell against him.

Min Yoongi - cat

“Hey, Lil meow meow,” You grinned stepping into the studio. You were rival producers, and it amused you how easily you could get under his skin. You really meant no harm by it, and you hoped it came across that way. Sometimes he would do the same to you by making fun of the bags under your eyes or something as trivial. It had gotten simultaneously worse and better  due to renovations, you were sharing a studio. Both agreeing to leave each other’s music and equipment alone.

“So how long did it take for your date to run away this time?” He sighed, taking the coffee from your hand, freeing it so you could count his change and place the small pile of coins onto his desk. 

“He said his boss called him thirty seconds into the movie. The opening credits hadn’t even finished Min” You hissed sipping your coffee “I was so excited to see the movie.”

“What a prick, did he really?” Yoongi hissed, turning in his seat, pulling his headphones down so they would hang around his neck.

“Yes, he really did” you turned to face your computer, turning it on and setting everything up. “I don’t understand Min. Am I really that bad?”

“No you're not, as much as we joke you are cute” He grinned turning your seat around, so you were left with no choice but to look at him “Sometimes you act like a big cat all feisty and claws and teeth, but you forget you are actually a cute little kitten.”

Jung Hoseok - doughnut

“Welcome to the Doughnut Drive- thru. How may I help you?” You asked, trying to sound cheerful after a long shift.

“Hey, can I get twelve assorted iced doughnuts with sprinkles?” The voice was muffled through the drive-thru, but you knew exactly who it was.

You tapped the button on the sales machine. Waiting for his car to arrive. It was a red 1973 Mercedes 450SL. A beautiful piece of machinery. He smiled up at you and handed you the money as he did every time, brushing his fingers against your palm, making you feel warm in your pretty pastel blue uniform dress and apron. 

In the middle of the Money was a piece of paper that said ‘Hoseok xxxx-xxx-xxx call me.’ This wasn’t the first time he had handed you a note with his number. You felt your face flush, wondering if you looked like a tomato at this point.

“Here is your change sir, I will just get them now” You walked off and grabbed the assorted donuts and handed them over. Watching his car drive off.

It was when you heard his voice again through your headset from the drive-thru speaker that you grew confused. Have you made a mistake? “Miss y/n, I come around every Friday after work, hoping I might get the chance to talk to you. I have given you my number almost thirty times now, and you never text, never call. Just let me know before I die of a heart attack or diabetes from eating 12 donuts a week. Would you be interested in going on a date with me?”

Kim Namjoon - drive-in

Namjoon had asked you out a few days ago after school, he seemed confident and kind of cocky in front of his friends. You almost thought it was a joke; that is until he arrived at your house, his usually disheveled hair combed down. He was no longer in his leather jacket but a nice button up. He shook hands with your father, talking to him with a smile while you went to fetch your purse.

“Sir, I have plans to watch a movie with your daughter and then to eat at the diner. I thought I should let you know in case you wish to know her whereabouts.” Namjoon said, trying to be courteous to your parents. “The movie finishes at eight, and we should finish dinner by nine, so we shouldn’t be out too late.”

“You aren’t planning to do anything at the drive-in, are you?” Your father said sternly, “I know where you live mister Kim.”

“No, sir, we aren’t going to do anything except watch a movie,” Namjoon said, rubbing his palms on his trousers looking towards the stairs hoping you were ready to leave. “And perhaps I could hold her hand.”

“Alright, Mum, Dad, don’t scare the poor boy” You sighed, gesturing Namjoon over; he got up grateful that you had saved him from your father's intense stare.

“I will wait up,” Your father said, walking you both to the door catching Namjoon’s arm. “You may hold her hand, and I will allow one kiss goodnight if she wishes, but otherwise, keep your hands to yourself, buddy.”

“Yes, Sir. I will have her home by nine.” 

Park Jimin - VCR

“Hey Jimin, did you record the show last night? I was so busy with my Aunty’s 45th birthday that I was unable to watch it” You grabbed your friend's arm in the school hall. “Please, PLEASE tell me you recorded it.”

“Yeah I got it recorded, you can come over later and watch it with me after dance practice” He smiled giving you a perfect spin. “You will watch me, right?”

“Of course, Chim.” You stopped at your adjacent lockers, taking out your books, remembering the math pop quiz. It was going to be a long day.

You weren’t wrong, the day was slow and tedious. Your only saving grace was when you hopped into Jimin’s bright yellow buggy and took off to his dance class. You sat in the corner watching him dance. He was one of two boys who danced in his age group. The girls moved so delicately, their bodies were as light as air. It made you self conscious even Jimin in his sweats and singlet was more agile and graceful then you could ever dream of being.

He drove you both home, asking if he did well and telling you how he thinks he is ready for the upcoming performance. The Park family home was a single story. Jimin called it small and old, but you thought it was homely and cozy. The two of you sat in his room; you snuggled into his blankets while putting the old tape in the VCR machine. It was nice being with your best friend, but you wanted to be something more for some reason. 

You just wish you had the courage to tell him.

Kim Taehyung - BFF

It was a Friday night; you were in the basement lying on your stomach on the plush rug; your legs swinging back and forth as you slowly threaded beads onto a clear fishing line. Threading Taehyung’s favorite color beads in a simple, alternate pattern. You were able to fasten the bracelet when the door to the basement swung open. 

“You got it, Mrs. L/N, I will let her know for you” Taehyung’s voice called up to your mother as he hopped down the stairs enthusiastically. “Sup?”

“Just chilling Tae” The evidence of your craft pushed under the couch. 

“I just wanted to let you know, your mum says I can stay for dinner, if you want me to that is?”

“No duh, Tae, you’re my BFF.”

Taehyung laughed sitting on the two-seater sofa, his long legs hanging over the side. “We should do something fun” You hummed the BFF bracelet in your pocket felt heavy. 

“Like what?” Taehyung asks, earning a shrug from you. He ponders for a moment before continuing, “We could play truth or dare.”

“Will it work with just the two of us?” 

“Sure, let me go first,” he smiled, sitting up and crossing his legs on the couch, patting the second cushion, and you sat across from him. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Do you have anyone you like?” He peeked  at you from under his shaggy bangs, and you felt your cheeks grow pink. 

“Yes,” your giggle was nervous, and you tried to quickly move on, “truth or dare?”

“Truth?” He smiled, moving the hair out of his eyes with his fingers. 

“Do you have anyone you like?” He nodded, his face turned away, and your mother took this moment to bring you a plate of orange soda and biscuits. 

The two of you chorused your thanks, and when the door was shut, you were left alone once more. One more round and Tae asked if you had ever kissed anyone, and you dared him to dunk his biscuit in his soda before eating it. 

“Truth or dare?” He asked, seemingly determined to get you back for the horrific snack you had created. And you thought it only fair that he had the chance. 

“Dare,” you smiled, downing your soda so he couldn’t ruin it for you. 

“I dare you to kiss me,” you sprayed him completely, choking on the carbonated beverage. 

Jeon Jungkook - Iced tea

Jungkook was contracted to paint the outside of your family home. You were back home from University and house sitting for your parents while they were on a cruise. Laying out on a sun chair in your bikini, trying to enjoy the warmth of the sun, you started to get thirsty. Walking inside to your parent’s indoor bar, you began preparing some ice tea. It was when you saw him on a ladder painting above the window all shirtless and sweaty, that you decided to prepare a second beverage. 

You turned to the mirror fixing your hair, applying a tinted lip gloss, and readjusting your bikini top to accentuate your cleavage. You carried both drinks out and smiled, “Jungkook, was it? Would you like some ice tea, you look a bit thirsty.”

[wordstrings]

Inbox dump 

(brace yourselves, I’m including the timestamps because these have been sitting forever and you may literally forget ever having sent one of these because they’re from so long ago 😬)

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Anonymous said: March 11th 2014 *Clears throat* Non-canon verse, uni AU probably *strums guitar and takes a deep breath* DUEEEEE TO A COMPUTING errORRR, dean and gabe are stuck as roomatesssssssss, whilesamandcascanbestucktogethertoo that'snotaneccesitybutitwouldbegreaaaaaaaaattttttttt, and veeery soon it turns into something of a friendship BUT THEEEENNNN dean fights with saaAAAM and gabe is like "dude stop being so upset" aND FLUFF HAPPEeeeeeEEEEEEeens! *stands up and bows* tyvm for accepting debriel though like omg <3

I’ve been rewatching some of Supernatural seasons 5 and 6 this past weekend, and it reminded me how much I love and miss Gabriel. I still maintain that Debriel is a super-underrated ship. The manic-chaos potential is *muah*. (see: #Debriel)

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Anonymous said: August 7th 2018 psst... light back tickles while cuddling in bed are pure™ and wholesome™

Good shit good shit good shit

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Anonymous said: September 19th 2018 I love science and go to public seminars as often as I can. I walked in to the most recent one (which I had picked at random), and it was on the science of tickling. There were demonstrations. There were hand gestures and finger wiggling. There were in depth descriptions of the anatomy and physiology behind ticklish spots. It was legitimately your Amateur Production’s fic, and I was Kevin. Worst of all it was 2 hours long. I think I died during it and my soul was sucked into hell.

Uhhhhhh where can I get a copy of the slide deck?? Asking for a friend. (see: #series: Amateur Production)

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Anonymous said: September 23rd 2018 your art skills have me shook in the best possible way

aaaahh thank you! Fun fact: I went to art school and even took illustration as a concentration area but I’ve hardly drawn anything for like ten years. When I do draw, it’s usually because there are feelings that I don’t wanna do words about. (see: #strings does art)

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Halo!anon said: September 27th 2018 A small, sinful part of Castiel had the urge to gloat. It was somewhat dampened by the fact that Dean was still under the impression that being abducted is peak romance."I can't believe you went out of your way to set up our second date!" He'd squealed, as Castiel tightened his restraints. - little excerpt of a sequel to Date Nights with Demons i had planned for months but abandoned. halo!anon

Your demented version of Demon!Dean is so entertaining 😄 (see: Date Nights with Demons)

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Anonymous said: November 6th 2018 Aaaaah your Gabriel / Kali drabble was adorable, I can't help but love seeing our mighty archangel reduced to a mass of giggles, and you write Gabriel so so well <3. I love your writing your stories always brighten my day ^^

It’s so rare for him to let his guard down, isn’t it? But when he does, he has a grand old time of it. :) (see: this drabble)

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sarah-lou-who said: November 8th 2018 1/4 Boo! The ghost of my online presence in the community is peeking its head in because I need help. I don’t have a platform or following to sound an alarm, so I’m using my platonic tumblr wife’s platform and following for me, because that’s what platonic tumblr wives do. Right? Anyway, I’m very actively fixated on Attack on Titan atm. You know this very well. You also know my predicament. I seem to have exhausted the entire supply of tickly AoT content I’m interested in that exists currently. 2/4 So, if you’re willing to publish these for me, I’m crying out into the vast TFB lands hoping that there’s someone out there to answer the call. I am in desperate need of tickly AoT content. I don’t know if anyone around here writes for it much these days. I haven’t found anyone. And I know beggars can’t be choosers, but it can’t be helped; I really only care if Eren is involved. Even better would be Levi, but I haven’t found ANYTHING involving him, so I feel like asking for that is futile. 3/4 I digress. Even after all this time I can’t keep my asks less than 50 parts long. So my goal here is that someone, somewhere, will by chance come across these, and be able and willing to either write fic of the tickly variety for Eren and/or Levi from Attack on Titan, or direct me to someone who can, if they know a person who knows a person who knows a person. (Sidenote, hi anyone who still remembers me! It’s Sarah, the more ticklish half of Leerah. I’m doing good and I miss you!) 4/4 (I hope you’re all doing well!) Thank you for letting me take advantage of your devoted followers, Strings! Love yaaa!!!

Ah, my platonic tumblr wife Sarah returns! (Digitally, anyway. Reality-wise, we hang out all the time and it’s probably very rude of me to have not published this ask for so long!) I keep teasing her that she has a Type, and that is dark-haired sulky badass who’d probably make a wicked ‘ler – AoT Levi, SPN Cas, FMA Roy, etc. So anyway, if anyone knows of somewhere I can point her to find the content she’s (still) craving, lmk!

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Anonymous said: October 23rd 2019 I’m sorry if this is invasive in any way, but how is Sarah doing? I’ve been absent from Tumblr for a couple years and I see that her blog is now deactivated. I was just wondering if she’s doing alright and if she’s still around here on a different blog maybe?

See above! She doesn’t have a TFB community blog anymore, but she’s doing well. We’re quarantine buddies and helping each other out a lot. Very kind of you to ask! <3

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Anonymous said: December 2nd 2018 Hi, sorry to bother you but do you know what happened to prodigal-anon’s blog? It seems to have been deleted. Sorry again if you’ve been asked this before

No worries, friend! Here’s an answer for you!

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Anonymous said: December 13th 2018 I LOVE THE LOOPY SERIES! I love it so much, is there any chance you’ll be doing a part four? I’d give anything to see Cas and Dean tickle each other, it would be so cute 😍

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I haven’t entirely stopped writing... and Loopy 4 is one of those unfinished pieces that has seen a few additions lately. :) I’ve learned not to make promises about when something might get finished and posted, but I genuinely do believe this may be one of the first things that shows up once I’m ‘back in the game.’ Stay tuned... (see: #series: Loopy)

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Anonymous said: January 1st 2019 No no no you can't just stop there! I need more fluffy destiel with tickles and kissing! Pretty please?

I believe this is in response to Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight. Don’t you worry, anon – Dean and Cas are not done being fluffy on this blog!

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1832wasalongtimeago said: January 25th 2019 Hi I just wanted to pop in and say the Maintenance series is amazing!! The second part was doing things to my poor heart I’ve read it like 5 times already. You’re such an amazing writer and thank you fo writing for us!

I’m very flattered, but I can’t take credit for the Of Maintenance series – that’s the lovely work of ask-flip-frost! It does things to my poor heart, too, so you’re in good company. :)

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Anonymous said: January 26th 2019 Sam Winchester can take a lot of things. The one thing he CAN'T take? Someone using baby talk on him when he's being tickled. He collapses into a puddle of helpless giggles faster than a house of cards in a stiff wind.

Precious Sammy just needs to laugh and be held, doesn’t he? <3

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Anonymous said: May 17th 2019 Thor needs tickles. So. Damn. Much.

Oh this was from right after Endgame came out. Thor did make me feel some sads there. :( Poor bab.

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Anonymous said: July 25th 2019 hi! i’ve read your wonderful fics forever but i’ve never really sent anything like this before so i don’t really know what to say.. but i had a destiel tickly thought and really wanted to share it with somebody, so here goes i guess- dean is taking too long in the shower so cas decides to use his mojo from the other room to speed things along. and listens to dean’s echoey laughs through the door. that’s all. sorry if this is weird! okay bye have a good one

This is not weird and I may have delayed in telling you any of my feelings about it but I definitely have a doc somewhere that has some vague notes about how I’d like to write this because I like it!

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Anonymous said: August 6th 2019 Anhhgff your Good Omens tword fics are so cute snvfddf i never knew I needed that of my favorite husbands till now😳😍

I know, right?! They’re just dying to be dropped into every fluffy situation. (see: #Good Omens)

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Anonymous said: July 25th 2019 Poking my head in to say hello, hope you’re doing well still! I just got into Good Omens and I absolutely loved your fic! (I watched the show first because my book was taking too long in the mail lol) Also, the other week I somehow talked myself into making a tfb blog, after all these years of almost doing so before chickening out (this ask isn’t from it because I just hopped in here briefly in a private phone browser to say hi, it’s literally just august-anon though) ~August!Anon

August!anon, I’m always so happy to see you stop by! Tagging your (not-so-new anymore) blog so everyone can check you out: @august-anon​

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hey-teenblog said: August 4th 2019 I love your fanfiction very much! They give me a lot of pleasant emotions. And most importantly, they, saturated with tenderness and love, gave me to accept myself as lee!! sorry for my english, i'm russian Love you 😘❤️

I will never tire of hearing things like this! Thank you for telling me. “Saturated with tenderness and love” is a such wonderful compliment about my writing – thank you very much! No need to apologize for language differences; I’m always impressed with anyone who manages to pick up English because it’s bonkers. 

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Anonymous said: August 23rd 2019 Hi! Just found this blog and wondering some basic info. ** What fandoms do toy write for? ** Do you accept prompts? ** Do you write reader insert fics? Thank you lovley ❤️

Anonymous said: August 29th 2019 Do you write tickle fics for bnha?? Asking for a friend 👀👀

The only fandoms I have reliably been able to write for are Supernatural and Good Omens – but even Good Omens is a rookie player here. Supernatural is my main jam, and Destiel is my favorite flavor. I don’t do reader inserts, but I’m always “accepting” prompts. I just haven’t written many of them for quite a long time now, so you’re welcome to drop them as long as you’re okay with them collecting dust. (see: this selfsame post)

My About/FAQ page is very dusty right now, too, but there might be some useful tidbits in there for you.

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Anonymous said: November 12th 2019 okayokayokay. Have you watched Lucifer? It's on netflix, it's great, so much emotions and pining. (Also, y'know, reg. Luci stuff. He runs a club. Bad jokes. It's great.)

I haven’t, but it’s on my Netflix watchlist, so I’ll get there eventually! I saw a gifset once where he actually did the thing I see in winged fanfic all the time, where there was gunfire and he sheltered someone he cared about with his manifested wings. And honestly, that was the deciding factor for me.

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Anonymous said: November 16th 2019 Oh Man U listen to Critrole as well! Nice! Campaign 1 was awesome but also heartfelt and really gut-punching at points. Who is your fav so far, anyone you aren’t fond of? (& Out of interest do you have any tickle related thoughts on the main crew or upcoming Fics we can look out for? As you said it’s tumbleweeds out here for this fandom’s tickles and I’ll take anything really 😂!) Hope u enjoy!!!!!

It’s STILL tumbleweeds out here and it’s making me crazy! My heart belongs to Vax primarily, Percy secondarily. I don’t really have cohesive thoughts or headcanons about anything, unfortunately. I do have this one mental picture that keeps coming up that I keep wanting to see art of (who knows, maybe I’ll commission somebody someday?) – of ridiculous brute Grog just lifting Vax straight up in his arms and gettin’ wiggly with his fingers while all Vax can do is laugh and pry and kick while absolutely nobody helps him.

---

Regarding #series: Accessor:

Anonymous said: August 31st 2015 I would like to see accessor!verse cas using feathers on Dean!!! and NIBBLES and RASPBERRIES and TEETH and TONGUE and WOWWWWWW

ME TOO, FRIEND. It’s been aaaaages since I published anything new for the Accessor AU, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been going back to my unfinished docs every once in a while to add a few lines here and there. ;) 

-

Anonymous said: October 29th 2016 Prompt: Cas is put in charge of getting a treaty with a neighboring country that shares a lot of the same customs, including Accessories, with certain... twists (think Bracelets AU) and treats their personal slaves (like Accessories) like people (listening to opinions, giving proper care, etc.). The foreign diplomats keep bringing that up and talking to Dean. Cas isn't sure he can make it though the diplomatic proceedings. Also, he might be having improper thoughts about that custom and Dean...

I’m posting this here, but I’m definitely keeping this filed elsewhere because it’s FANTASTIC.

-

Halo!anon submitted: June 4th 2018 I can’t help but imagine how tickling must play a part in other aspects of society in the accessor ‘verse, besides the sessions between master and accessory. So here’s some imagines and headcanons, with a touch of worldbuilding. (Warnings, besides the usual for this AU: death mention, reference to past trauma.)

- Among the high class, during parties and other celebrations, it’s seen as a common courtesy to string up one’s personal accessory in the center of the room and let the guests entertain themselves with them. Lord Castiel never does this with Dean, much to his fellow nobles’ disappointment; the mere suggestion had Dean quaking as things he’d rather forget came back to bite him.

- Every so often, a petty criminal(the poor man’s accessory, if you will) is placed in stocks in a small town’s square and left at the mercy of the very people they used to menace. What happens next usually involves honey, some sheep, and plenty of begging. A guard stands by to warn people, “No hurting, only tickling. Everyone please wait your turn, they’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

- Certain monastic healers perform tickle therapy as a treatment for anxiety, stress, and other “diseases of the soul”, as they call them. Balthazar himself proposed the idea, because of course he did. The rich usually indulge in this kind of therapy secretly, due to its undignified nature. Some contemplate the possibility of training accessories to tickle in the future, but it’s still a big taboo.

- Every town has a folktale about a tickle monster. Curiously, many of them involve controlling plants and attacking through dreams. The southern communities still have a giggle remembering that one time six years ago when Michael offered to hunt down one such monster and came back with Crowley, a sleazy drunkard with a fetish and a dream, sitting in a cage and wearing a mask.

- The Masters sisters, Lillith, Meg and Ruby, have a long history with law enforcement. Their favorite pastime is snatching unlucky merchants off the roads and tickling them into coughing up everything they have. Everyone is sure they had a hand in Fergus"Crowley" Macleod’s untimely demise by ferocious attack hounds, but they’re very good at covering their tracks. They’ll help you cover up your tracks too, if you’re a friend- ask Bela Talbot.

I might make a second part if I get any more ideas. I hope you enjoyed this! -Halo!anon.

I am very fond of you indeed, Halo!anon. These are so creative!

-

hypahticklish submitted: July 24th 2018 Accessor!Ideas:

~ Gabriel leads a furious rant regarding Prince Lucifer/Sam to Castiel, relating back to perhaps dealings he has directly had with the Prince between their two unstable-yet-truced Kingdoms. Castiel relates with similar views shared by Gehenna’s councilor(s).

~ Dean and Sam BM where the audience learns more about their homevillage. Dean starts it after a rather morose remark from Sam and ends with Sammy smiling and stealing my heart.

~ Balthazar helps Sam in several ways: 1) Learns the Sam was originally a psuedo-Advocates apprentice, as well as herbalist nephew when Sam identifies the components to some salves/medicines he’s making (he had been explaining what he was doing in an attempt to spare himself being attacked like the first couple times) 2) Calls Sam out on being intelligent and making a recklessly stupid choice by selling himself to find Dean. 3) Removes Lucifers mark. And maybe perhaps: 4) Allows Sam to assist in his own healing/medicine making under his careful observation, feigned as needing two sets of hands to do correctly and his assistant was running an errand, to assess his skills. 5) Offer he work in the hospice under him, apprenticing, should Gabriel allow his intelligence not go to waste. It’s not what Sam really wants to do/learn, but it’s better than doing nothing.

~Dean officially thanks Castiel for saving Sam. I’m talking full feels, single man tear sorta thing. And Castiel says “there was never another option” and then its schmoopy sweet with the kisses and the tickles and the Cas saying he loves Dean back!!!!!!!! swoon.

~ Kali!Likes!Sam’s!Spirit! Give me a dinner scene with Gabriel, Kali and Sam where hes holding his own in a diplomatic conversation with them when he nearly crosses a line (maybe something classist? Making it clear that Cas and Gabe are the exception to his experiences) and she says “I like this ones fire. He reminds me of you, my love.” *grabby hands*

~ Prince Lucifer sends a message to Gabriel requesting (threatening) his Helpmate be returned to him for a handsome reward. Sam somehow sees letter and gets spooked because DRAMA. Gabriel responds to Lucifer with the Chief Advocate equivalent of “Fuck Off”

You, my friend. YOU. All these feelings about Sam? Top-notch, and I shall be borrowing them, yes I shall.

---

Regarding #android!Cas:

hypahticklish said: January 23rd 2016 Android!Cas deciding today is the DAY. Dean has been teasing him lately that he likes these strange sensations that have him using all his back-up generated power to not accidentally break Dean's bones and challenging him with that cocky smirk and relaxed confidence. Android!Cas practicing during time while Dean rests with holding objects with similar density to the human wrists with enough gentle force that they neither fracture or slip from his grasp. Android!Cas surprising Dean by turning the tables and pinning his wrists over his head while settling himself on Dean's thighs. Android!Cas not necessarily tickling at first so much as just touching like he had been wanting to so as to catalog how his best friend feels with his new technology. Android!Cas feeling that bubble of FEELS in his chest as he listens to Dean swear at him with positive physical actions negating his harsh words, growing more amused as the bubbling giggles begin. I love Android!Cas 

Anonymous said: January 23rd 2016 Android!Cas figures out his own strength comes in handy for more than just retaining himself during tickle fights. When he surprises Dean, Dean tends to squirm and fight back a little (even though he told Cas to get him back as part of the experience), so Cas uses his strength to gently hold Dean down while ticking him. Dean's never been held immobile before so it's a new experience for him, but he ends up liking it. Cas notices how Dean relaxes into his hold after a minute or so. Cas doesn't fail to use this knowledge about Dean, coming up with teasing words and methods of ticking to make Dean all squirmy and giggly, taking special notice of how light tickles effect Dean even more than most other touches, using that specially designed soft brush meant to gently clean Cas' delicate computer chips.

Anonymous said: February 17th 2016 I'm joining in on the Android!Cas thing, if not too late. Perhaps Android!Cas has detachable parts, like a foot, and Dean is a jerk and runs off and hides with it all the while tickling it and making fun of Android!Cas's increasingly desperate attempts to get it back.

Y’all, careful deliberate curious determined ‘ler Cas is LIFE. And, reserved confused helpless adorable ‘lee Cas is also life. Detachable and extensible parts are probably key to both of these things.

---

Regarding current personal circumstances:

Anonymous said: January 14th 2020 I pray that you’re able to find peace during this difficult time. You are loved more than you will ever know. I know it’s hard to believe, but there will come a time that you are thankful for this experience, because it will have turned you into the person you are truly meant to be. Be strong and be hopeful. Keep your faith and keep knowing that you are going to be okay. Don’t let this dark time destroy the magnificent light inside of you. Sending you so much love

Anonymous said: January 17th 2020 I’m so sorry you’re struggling. Hang in there! We’re all here for you!

Anonymous said: February 11th 2020 all my love, thoughts and prayers are going towards you right now. also wanted to just drop a little thank you note in your inbox for all the light and joy i've found in your fics over the years. im sitting half way through my first year at uni currently but ive been a fan of yours since early highschool and i feel like ive almost grown up with your writing and fanfics in a strange way, so thank you so much for that. sending all my love to you once again- you are so strong x

I love you all so much.

[jeannereames]

I just finished ‘Becoming’ and I absolutely loved it! I just wondered if you believe that AtG and Hephaistion continued their romantic relationship throughout their lives or if you think they let that side of their friendship go as they got older as was more common at the time? Anyway! I absolutely loved ‘Becoming’ and I can’t wait to read ‘Rise’!

I’m guessing you’re asking about the historical people, as opposed to the fictional characters? I do hope/plan to continue the Dancing with the Lion series, and in it, yes, they will remain romantically involved. Whether or not future novels are bought, however, rests on how well Becoming and Rise do. (So if you want more, get the word out and post reviews. *grin*)

Yet, with regard to the historical men, I think it’s very hard to know whether they remained sexual partners as adults. And the reason it’s hard to know involves the difficulty of our surviving sources.

As soon as historians start talking SOURCES, a lot of folks tune out. It’s BORING. *grin* But in order to give an honest answer, I kinda have to Go There.

First, let me give the TL;DR version. If they were still sexually involved as adults, I suspect it was quite occasional. And the fact it was quite occasional (if at all), may be why we don’t hear anything about it in the sources (discussion to follow). After all, they were both extremely busy men with duties and responsibilities that sometimes kept them apart for months. If they were still sexually/romantically involved, they had what we’d today call a long-distance relationship at points…and without the benefit of cell phones.

It may have been a gradual “weaning” from each other, rather than anything sharp. So they may have been lovers as teens, then over time, each took younger beloveds, and finally, wives—all while remaining emotionally very, very close. (Although I suspect that, like any friendship OR love affair, they had ups-and-downs, fights and reconciliations.)

Now, here’s why the TL;DR summary above gets a big fat label: “SPECULATION.”

The sources are the only way we know anything about the past, and if they can’t be trusted, or at least not trusted in toto, we have a Really Big Problem. So let me lay it out.

Before I do, however, I want to remind readers that I DO think Alexander and Hephaistion were lovers, at least in their youth. But no, it’s not “obvious.” Theirs wasn’t a world especially reticent about same-sex affairs (*cough* see below), even if post-Christian, modern historians had trouble with it until the last 40 years or so. So if the (surviving) ancient authors don’t talk about them as lovers, even while discussing other same-sex pairs in the same damn text, we have to ask…why? One very real possibility is that they didn’t talk about them as lovers because they weren’t. Full stop. There could have been other reasons (I think there were), but let’s not flinch from being honest, here.

(This could have been a lot more graphic, but then I’d have to post a warning on my blog.)

So…back to our Persnickety Sources.

First, nothing has survived that Alexander wrote himself. We have a couple public inscriptions, but not one piece of writing, even a letter, from Alexander. (Any surviving letters are quoted in later sources, and probably aren’t real.*)

Second, nothing has survived written by anyone who actually knew Alexander, or even lived when he did, except forensic speeches from Athenian demagogues who mostly hated him (and weren’t writing histories anyway). One may as well trust Demosthenes on Philip.

The sources we do still have used histories written by those who knew Alexander, such as Ptolemy, Aristobulos, Nearchos, Marsyas, and even the court historian, Kallisthenes. They also used other texts of dubious worth, such as Onesikritos, who was made fun of even in his own day for writing “historical fiction.” And sometimes our later authors were using texts who, themselves, were using earlier texts. So we’ve got three (or more) layers, not just two!

Third, we have not just layers of sources, but layers in the CULTURE behind those sources.

The first layer is, of course, Macedonian. How did the Macedonians themselves view Alexander? We don’t know—not truly. Nothing survives from a Macedonian source, such as Marsyas or Ptolemy. (Some of you “in the know” might be thinking, But Polyaenus! No. Polyaenus lived 500 years after ATG; that was a very different Macedonia. [Yes, I used the Latin spelling, as he was Roman. ;p])

The second layer is Greek, but we have to qualify this. Layer 2.0 is Greece of the 4th century, especially Athenian reactionism, writing about the emerging Macedonian kingdom. There could be huge cultural differences even among Greek city-states. Case in point: Athens vs. Sparta. Greeks didn’t always understand Macedonians (sometimes, I swear, on purpose).

BUT we also have the increasingly homogenized Hellenistic world of the Successors, which was sorta like when you throw in a bunch of different colored shirts and wash them in hot water. You get a color-bleeding mess. Your red shirt (Attic-Ionic) might have a big blue streak (Doric) on it now. That’s sort of what happened to Greek culture as the Hellenistic era progressed. Lots of bleed. This had begun prior to Alexander, but he accelerated it like kerosene on a trash fire. We can call that Greek Layer 2.1, or something.

Then we have the Romans, and their culture, which, if similar to Greek, definitively wasn’t Greek in key ways. All our surviving sources were written as the Republic was collapsing and the Empire emerging, and by that point, Greece was a Roman province.

Again, we’ve got two groups here: Greeks living under Roman rule, such as Plutarch, Diodorus, and Arrian—who wrote in Greek—and then Roman authors such as Curtius, and later Justin, who wrote in Latin. But the Greeks under Rome shouldn’t be conflated with Athenians in ATG’s own day, or even under the Successors. The culture evolved and took on Roman shadings.

So that’s not just layers of sources, but layers of cultures trying to understand what people who lived a hundred or two hundred or three hundred years before them thought/believed.

Ergo, are we hearing what Alexander (or anybody else around him) really thought or intended? Or just what writers of the Second Sophistic (such as Plutarch) wanted him to model? Or how even later authors, such as Arrian, wanted to use him to flatter his patron, Hadrian?

What’s Roman, what’s Greek, and what’s Macedonian? Can we tease that out? I’d say it’s damn tricky, and often, flat impossible—although unlike some of my colleagues, I don’t believe it’s all Roman overlay. That goes too far in the other direction, IMO.

Last, we have several authors who weren’t writing about Alexander specifically, but have bits of Alexander lore embedded in their texts: Athenaeus’s “Supper Party,” or Polyaenus’s “Strategems,” or even Plutarch’s “Moralia,” just to name three.

Among these, especially later, we have authors writing material they (or later readers) tried to pass off as written by earlier authors. We often refer to these authors with the preface “Pseudo-” as in “Pseudo-Kallisthenes.” It was NOT written by Kallisthenes, but was later attributed to him.

So, now you have some idea of why Alexander historians want to pull our hair out!

But I detail that to explain why it’s so hard for me to give you any clear answer about whether Alexander and Hephaistion remained lovers as adults. Or even if they were lovers at all.

In none of our five primary histories of Alexander, nor in Plutarch’s other stuff, nor Athenaeus, etc. is Hephaistion ever called Alexander’s lover. This includes sources that do mention with apparent unconcern other pairs of male lovers. So this isn’t “the love that dared not speak it’s name.” The Greeks were pretty okay with talking about their boyfriends.

There could be OTHER reasons for deep-sixing mention of Hephaistion and Alexander as lovers, mostly having to do with status (some of which I touched on in the novels), yet the lack of clear affirmation is a problem. The only mentions we do have come from late sources, one of which belongs to that category of “pseudo-” authors I mentioned: Pseudo-Diogenes (in Aelian), as well as Arrian recording the Stoic Epiktatos. The philosophers are trying to make a point about the dangers of giving in to physical desire, so it’s hard to know how much credit to give these references.

Thus, we’re left with little besides the indirect (e.g., the Achilles-Patroklos allusions, etc.). Those have their own problems, which I’ll not go into now, as I’ve already written a small essay.

One potential reason for a lack of mention in our surviving sources is that any sexual love affair had been a product of their youth. What remained was a fiercely deep and passionate devotion. Before you pooh-pooh that—Of course they were still having sex!—consider modern marriages that have lasted for decades but no longer include sexual activity, at least between the married partners. Don’t be sucked in by Romance novel tropes.

When I was doing bereavement counseling (et al.), I ran into all sorts of arrangements that married couples made across time. Some marriages break up when the partners stop being sexually attracted to each other, and “cheat.” But others don’t, because it’s not “cheating” if it’s mutually agreed to. Or in some cases, the partners simply lost interest in sex as they aged…but didn’t fall out of love with each other. So they might have sex once a year? Maybe? That was enough. Or they had sex on the side, with permission. People don’t fit into boxes well, IME. Honesty was the hallmark of marriages that lasted even when they weren’t still having sex. I’ve known of marriages where the couples had stopped having sex years ago, but when one of them died, the other was completely devastated because of the enormous EMOTIONAL investment. I think that’s what hit Alexander when Hephaistion died. Maybe they were still having sex, at least once in a blue moon. Maybe they weren’t. That didn’t matter.

LOVE is deeper than sex, by a long shot. Which is why the Greeks counted PHILIA (true friendship) as the superior love to eros (desire).

So whether Alexander and Hephaistion were still sexually involved—or had ever had sex—doesn’t reflect the depth of their love for each other. We might not be told by the sources that they were lovers, physically, either as youths or continuing into adulthood. But the sources are abundantly clear that they loved each other best of all. When Hephaistion died, Alexander followed him about 10 months later.

(Final note: what I intend to do in the series, going forward, is a bit different from what I described here, but that’s why I specified this involves the historical men, not necessarily my fictional characters.)

*My reference to quoted material, such as letters—or speeches—not being real: it was a common practice in the ancient world for the author of histories, especially starting with Thucydides, to just MAKE SHIT UP. It was all about showing off one’s own rhetorical skills. I think, in a lot of cases, we are probably getting at least the gist of what was said. But NEVER, EVER, EVER trust the “transcription” of an ancient speech…unless it was actually recorded later by the author. So, say, Demosthenes’ Philippics are probably a cleaned up version of the speeches he delivered. But Alexander’s “Speech at Opis” is NOT what Alexander actually said.

[davewakeman]

Talking Tickets: 17 April 2020--Refunds! Restarts! Support! And, More!

Hey! 

Thanks for being here again this week. If you are enjoying this newsletter, tell your friends and colleagues to sign up by visiting this link.

How is everyone holding up out there?

If you need someone to chat with, let me know. I’m here for you if you need a proper chat as my friend, Cat, would say.

I made a typing error about the strategy webinar. It is going on this coming Tuesday.

Have a few minutes and want to grab a drink? We may not be able to have a drink in person just yet, but we can have a virtual happy hour. Join me and Ken Troupe for what is becoming a Friday tradition for happy hour with sports business folks at 5 PM EDT.

If you are interested, we’ve got a nice Slack community with folks from around the world and all areas of the industry, exchanging ideas, connecting, and thinking about the future of their businesses.

I’ll share a bunch of links to resources and other places to connect in the newsletter.

Hopefully, I’m able to strike a proper balance for all of you…between, “Wow! This is nuts!” and “We will get through this.”

To the tickets!

————————————————————————————————————

1. When will events return? No one knows but we are learning more:

Dr. Zeke Emmamuel says he doesn’t see large scale events coming back until the fall of 2021.

Shane Harmon, CEO of Sky Stadium in New Zealand shared some interesting information from his government on when restrictions might start to be loosened and things can begin to normalize a little. Patron Base also put together a nice resource guide for their customers that y’all may find useful.

In Europe, the UK is preparing for 3 additional weeks of stay-at-home orders, pushing the opening of events back a bit further.

In the US, we still have no clear strategy for what reopening will look like, what we should expect, and how we will start to regain any sense of normalcy.

We do have a reopening panel and we do have a desire to reopen events, but, again, unfortunately, no clear direction.

I think we all have to try and take a balanced approach to our expectations here. First, we have the economic factor and that’s impacting all of us here immensely. Second, we have to deal with the safety concerns of the population and recognize that liability will drive a lot of the decision making process. Finally, never lose sight of the impact of fear and emotionally driven decision making on mass society. As quickly as people are gung ho to get back to ballparks, if an outbreak happens that was accelerated by a ballgame and that link is made, that could do more long-term damage than anything that has happened to this point.

Because, unfortunately, none of us really know the right answer here.

But I am hopeful after seeing the PGA Tour aim for June and the Australian Football League talking about July. 

2. The economic impact of these shutdowns becomes more and more apparent:

Baseball America wrote up a piece on why fan free games aren’t going to make sense for MiLB and what not playing in 2020 would mean for minor league baseball going forward.

The economic challenges are going to be felt all over. Colleges are likely going to be put in a position to cut sports like the University of Cincinnati did with soccer this week.

As a holistic thing, Research and Markets put together a report this week that tries and cover everything about the entertainment industry and the impact of the virus on folks.

Like a lot of stuff, the analysis and the information coming out from reputable sources needs to be parsed with for context and when you see anyone tell you something is all or nothing…take that with a grain of salt.

Bill Sutton tweeted out a call for teams to get on the virtual season tickets now and over the years I’ve been calling for folks to think more seriously about their membership model, their email lists, and how they are developing their global fan bases.

Harry DeMott from Ticket Evolution wrote up a good piece on restoring liquidity to the ticketing ecosystem as I was finishing this up that is worth a read.

Whatever position you find yourself in right now, your strategy going forward is going to be more important than ever. And, if doing things the way we’ve always done things is a bad idea in the best of times, right now it is a really bad idea to settle for that answer.

3. StubHub, refunds, cancellations, and more continue to make the news: 

The regulators in the UK continue to look into the merger between Viagogo and StubHub. And, as was mentioned in the press this week, “worst timed acquisition ever“?

Vivid Seats did announce their refund and exchange policy this week and it looks a lot different than Ticketmaster’s or StubHub’s.

AEG is offering a 30-day window for fans to get refunds and once a new date is announced, fans will get another 30 days.

While many of us have focused a lot of our attention on the platforms and technology companies, the same uncertainty is trickling into other areas with college football programs feeling the pinch because of the compromised place they find themselves.

Let’s be real here, college programs are only feeling the pinch now because most of them had the earliest deadlines…at a certain point, this is going to be a refrain that all of us are going to hear. Again, it goes back to the point above…we need clarity, information, and guidance on what the next several months look like before folks are really going to feel comfortable doing much of the stuff that we consider normal.

Leadership 101 stuff.

4. How are you connecting with your fans and customers during the pandemic?

Over the last few weeks, I’ve highlighted some really cool examples of using assets, content, and ideas to connect with folks.

The link above is from my friend, Blair Hughes, down in Brisbane. He’s been focusing on fan engagement since 2013 and he updated his resource guides this week to include a few new ideas that will work even when you are socially distanced from your fans.

The Indianapolis Indians were lauded by the governor. The Red Sox dropped coloring sheets. There are tons of free videos and performances from organizations all over the world. 

I’ve struggled with this a little bit because what do you offer folks when there is so much uncertainty. My path has been to continue to figure out how to add value and share ideas with folks. (To be fair, it is selfish as well because focusing on others helps me overcome the gaping void of being an entirely inadequate 4th-grade teacher and helps keep some of those negative thought processes at bay.)

But what are you doing to connect with folks now? Let me know and I can try and highlight some of these ideas as well.

5. The ticketing industry is doing a lot of stuff to help everyone weather this crisis together: 

This week INTIX announced a relief fund, the INTIX Member Covid-19 Relief Fund. 100% of funds will go to member assistance to help members of the ticket community bridge the economic gap while we wait out the pandemic.

Any gift matters, even $1.

As Maureen says that all folks want to do is help and I agree. So if you can, support this effort.

On top of the relief fund, Maureen and her team are hosting a weekly Zoom call on Wednesdays at 12 PM EDT. Anyone can join, no matter if you are a member or not. This week’s had over 200 folks.

The ALSD has a list of resources and ways for folks to learn and connect during the pandemic.

Global Citizen has put together the Live Aid of the Covid-19 crisis for tomorrow, 18 April.

Crew Nation is Live Nation’s effort to help the crews that make the shows happen. The Arts Council in the UK is also working to help freelancers and other folks impacted by the shutdowns. Theatre Support as well.  Indie venues band together to form a group to lobby congress for support of the industry.

While it isn’t about giving any money to support folks, MLS put up a training site so folks can keep their soccer skills fresh during the social distancing. And, if you have a young kid, this is likely enough to make you weep.

This is on top of all the other things I’ve highlighted over the last few weeks. If you or your organization are doing something to help folks, let me know and I will highlight it and share it here and with my community as well.

As I finish this up, I love when folks run and do challenges in their local communities…so I saw this one from Rob Sibbitts in Atlanta and he has completed his challenge…but maybe we can convince him to run another race for a local nonprofit.

My buddy, Greg Turner, who lives outside of Hong Kong just translated a report for anyone that is interested in learning more about the Chinese market for arts and entertainment. It doesn’t fit into the weathering the crisis theme, but it does give you something new to explore and since China is slowly starting to return to normal activities could give you some food for thought about what to think about in all of your home markets.

—————————————————————————————————————-

What am I up to this week?

Guess what? I’m still at home! I am doing the webinar that is listed at the top and I’m starting to drop new content on the podcast feed.

Want to chat? Let me know. Between my duties as an awful elementary school teacher, I’ve got plenty of time and will to chat. And, I’m happy to be here if someone needs someone to talk with. 

Please follow and like us:

Talking Tickets: 17 April 2020–Refunds! Restarts! Support! And, More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group

[darkobsidianquill]

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness.

Chapter Thirteen.

One of the things he enjoyed most about Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes was that they were often very active, and focused on practical work. Moody didn't spend the entire class block lecturing, or having them read from their textbooks. He almost always set them to actively practicing spells in class.

The class was currently spaced around the room, all partnered off, and practicing the disarming charm. The thing about the class was that it had an odd number of students, so they could never get an even partnering set up. Since, by this point, Harry knew most of the spells that Moody was teaching the 4th year students, he had taken to standing back and observing in the class, or sometimes even reading.

'Moody', however, had also taken the opportunity to take Harry aside and teach him some slightly more advanced spells from time to time. Something which Harry had appreciated greatly. He now wondered exactly what the man's motive was behind the action. For that matter, 'Moody' had been trying to help him with the tournament the whole year.

Harry had come to the realization that he was not entered in the tournament so that he would die in it. Voldemort needed him in order to complete his resurrection ritual. So killing Harry was most definitely not the immediate goal. So why enter him in the tournament at all? Harry didn't know. But he intended to find out.

In fact, there were a lot of things that Harry wanted to find out, and his ultimate conclusion was that there was only one man who could really answer all those questions, and that man was Voldemort himself.

The rest of the students in his defense class were scattered around the room, all weakly attempting to disarm their partners, and most of them were failing miserably. It was quite honestly pathetic. Harry sneered at their pitiful attempts and rolled his eyes. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been leaning against and walked casually towards Moody, who was correcting Seamus's wand movement.

"Professor," Harry said in a quiet voice.

'Moody' turned and narrowed his one proper eye at Harry. "Yes, Potter? You need something?"

Harry glanced back and forth to see if any of the nearby students were paying them any attention. When he was sure that they weren't he leaned in a bit closer. "I was hoping that I could speak with you after class. Privately. It's important."

'Moody' looked suspicious – but he always looked suspicious, so this wasn't much of a change – and finally he nodded his head curtly.

Harry grinned lightly and took a few steps away and 'Moody' refocused on a Ravenclaw boy and started yelling at him for his poor pronunciation.

���

"You coming, mate?" Ron asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder and started heading for the door of the defense classroom.

"Moody asked me to stay after class," Harry said, as he finished back up his notes.

"What's he want?" Ron asked looking confused. Hermione's head came up and her eyes were filled with curiosity but she didn't say anything.

Harry shrugged. "Won't know till I go talk to him, will I? I'll catch up with you guys later. I may be late to diner if whatever he has to talk about takes a while."

Ron shrugged and started to leave, but it was obvious from Hermione's face that she was dying to ask some questions. Harry pointedly ignored her and turned to head back to the front of the class where Moody was standing beside his desk. His one normal eye was narrowed on him suspiciously, while his magical one was trained on him intently.

Harry waited until both Ron and Hermione had gone, leaving only he and 'Professor Moody' left in the room before he turned and smirked at the grizzled-looking old man.

"I asked you to stay after, did I, Potter?"

"I do apologize, sir, but their curiosity has been getting rather bothersome lately. Hermione especially, has been getting exceptionally nosy," Harry said with slightly annoyed look to him as he glared back towards the exit of the classroom. He refocused on 'Moody' and grinned. "Can we take this into your office?"

The suspicion in 'Moody's' eye grew several measures but he nodded his head and motioned with his arm for Harry to head towards the door at the rear of the classroom that come into the back of Moody's office.

The two entered the cluttered room and Moody sat down in his chair. Harry noticed that the older wizard had his wand clasped loosely in his hand and was twisting it in between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry hesitated before sitting in the chair opposite the desk and glanced at his professor. "Do you mind if I cast a privacy ward?"

The corner of Moody's mouth turned up in apparent amusement. He waved his hand. "Be my guest, Potter."

Harry pocketed his wand and held his hand out, palm facing towards the front of the office. He slowly began to hiss out a sequence of words to form a rather powerful privacy ward over the room. It would not only place a silencing spell over the room, so no one on the outside could hear them; and lock the doors; it would also set off an alarm the second anyone approached either of the doors to the office. It was a fair bit more powerful and useful than the 'normal' magic privacy ward he knew, and he had no qualms using parselmagic in front of 'Moody'.

Once he was done and he turned back to the professor, he could see the surprise and curiosity glowing in his eyes.

"Interesting piece of magic, there Potter... I must say, I'm more than a slight bit curious as to where you learned it."

Harry grinned and let himself fall gracelessly into the chair opposite Moody's desk. "From a book."

"Mind your cheek, Potter. Not gonna give me more than that?"

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "It was a book that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Before me, the last owner was a man named Tom Riddle. Heard of him?"

"Slytherin! Where in Merlin's name did you find a book that used to be owned by Slytherin?" Moody exclaimed, not responding to the second half of the question.

"Down in the Chamber of Secrets, actually. You didn't answer my other question. Ever heard of a man named Tom Riddle?"

"Riddle?" Moody paused, looking thoughtful, although the man's expressions were somewhat hard to differentiate given how scared and messed up his face was. "Can't say that I've ever heard the name. Down in the chamber, you say?"

"Yeah. The chamber. And I suppose I'm not too surprised that you hadn't heard the name," Harry paused and sat up a bit straighter, giving the old wizard a calculating look. "Before I say what I've got to say next, I want you to promise that you'll hear me out before you start throwing curses."

'Moody's body tensed, and his grip on his wand visibly tightened. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I want you to take me to him. Screw this waiting till the end of term, or the last task, or whenever the hell it is you lot were planning on taking me. Take me now."

"What the hell are you talking about Potter!" Moody spat with a tone and stance that spoke of ignorance and confusion, but Harry could see the tension and wariness in the other man's pose and demeanor.

"Voldemort. Take me to him. I'm volunteering my services. My blood. Whatever the hell he needs for this resurrection ritual of his. He can have it." Harry paused, and then smirked. "Well... up to a point. I'd really rather not end up dead. But I suppose that's part of the reason I'm volunteering."

Moody was standing before Harry was even done talking and he had his wand trained on him. Harry left his wand in his pocket in hopes of it being a sign of non-aggression. He was fairly confident in the parselmagic shield charm he knew, as well as his ability to dodge.

Harry raised his hands, palms out to show he wasn't putting up a fight. "I asked that you hear me out," he reminded the older wizard, loudly.

"And why, exactly are you coming to me about this suicidal little request of yours?" Moody spat, still attempting to feign ignorance.

"Because I know you're not Alastor Moody," Harry said, as he continued to sit in the chair with his empty hands bared. "You're Barty Crouch Jr. Convicted Death Eater, who was supposed to have died in Azkaban about a decade ago. Why you're not dead, and why you're here, I can only guess. I figured maybe you dad broke you out and left your mum there in your place. Couldn't quite figure out why, but I suppose that really isn't any of my business, is it?"

'Moody' was strafing slowly out from behind his desk and kept his wand trained on Harry the whole time.

"And how, exactly, did you work all that out, Potter?"

"A whole slew of different sources that I pieced together on my own. Most of those sources, no one else could have access to, so you really don't have to worry about anyone else working it out the same way."

"Is that so?" 'Moody' spat, disbelievingly.

"Look, Crouch. I've known that you were impersonating Moody for months now. I didn't realize that you were the same Barty that was working for the Dark Lord though. I only just figured that out this last weekend, which is why I finally figured I'd come and have this lovely little chat with you. Now, if I had been so inclined to turn you over to the old goat, I would have done so ages ago. Dumbledore has no idea about any of this, and it is entirely my intention to keep him in the dark."

"And you think you can just offer yourself to the Dark Lord and then walk away from it, unharmed?" 'Moody' sneered before chuckling darkly.

Harry shrugged. "I think I have things to offer him. I know he wants me dead, but I think I can be of a greater value to him alive. I also happen to know that this resurrection of his could be more powerful if I participate willingly."

'Moody' looked at Harry skeptically and paused. "How do you even know about it? And what makes you think your cooperation would make any difference at all?"

"I have visions. I see into his head sometimes. It's random, and admittedly, I have no control over it at all, but I've been in his head several times this year."

"You? In the Dark Lord's head?" he hissed, disbelievingly.

Harry rolled his eyes and raised one hand to tap at his scar. "This is more than ornamental, you know. I'm connected to him. He left a bit of himself behind that night when he tried to kill me. This year I stopped fighting against that bit and started accepting it instead. It's brought about a real change of heart in me."

'Moody' gave him a long, hard look. "Is that so?"

Harry just shrugged and rose his eyebrows a bit into his forehead before relaxing back into the chair.

"So basically, I just want to see him. I need to tell him some things, and honestly, I'd like to ask him some things too. We also need to work on this ritual of his because I'm positive that once he learns about my decision to say 'eff you' to the old goat, he'll need to make some adjustments to it.

The old ritual he was planning on using at the end of the year would really only work if my magical affinity was light... which it's not."

"Really, now? Has been Dumbledore's golden-boy been tinkering in the dark arts?"

Harry curled his lips into a fierce sneer. "I am not Dumbledore's anything. And I certainly know my way around the dark arts."

"And how exactly have you been able to to practice any of this dark magic of yours? The wards around the school notify the old man of any dark magic cast."

Harry snickered. "Nothing to be worried about. I've actually been having quite a bit of fun down the the Chamber. Best thing about it is that it's beyond the reach of the school's wards. Dumbledore doesn't know a damn thing about what I do down there. And you know, while we're on the subject, I've been incredibly curious about that stunt you pulled at the start of year where you cast the Unforgivables in class. Dumbledore had to be aware of what you did – he had to have thrown a fit over that!"

'Moody' snorted. "He got over it."

Harry chuckled. "Awesome. So. Me going to see the Dark Lord. My greatest asset to him will be if I can maintain a cover here after everything is said and done, so if we can work my visits to him to be as inconspicuous as possible, that would be better."

'Moody' gave him a speculative look. "You're really serious about this, Potter? You know you very well be going straight into you death? There's absolutely no guarantee to you that you'll be allowed to leave alive."

Harry shrugged dismissively. "I'm pretty confident."

'Moody' gave a disbelieving snort. "Cocky brat."

"So do you have a way to get to him? A portkey or something? And do you have a way to contact him?"

"Of course I do. But in order to use the portkey we have to go beyond the boundaries of the castle and it's grounds."

"Are you aware of the secret passage way down the hall from here?" Harry asked suddenly, and 'Moody' looked a bit surprised by the sudden question.

"Secret passage?"

"Yeah, just down the hall from the defense classroom is a statue of a one-eyed witch with a hump-back. If you tap her back with your wand and say dissendium, it'll open up and reveal the entrance to a secret passage. It goes down a ways and eventually leads to a tunnel that goes all the way to Hogsmeade. It comes out in the cellar of Honeydukes. About half-way through the tunnel, you escape the reach of the castle's anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. We can just slip down there, go half way through the tunnel, and take the portkey from there. Is it a two-way portkey?"

"Of course it is. And you really seem to have thought this through."

"Well, I've been researching and planning it for a while now."

"You've been planning on going to the Dark Lord?" 'Moody' said with surprise and a tinge of respect.

Harry paused and looked thoughtful as he cocked his head to the side slightly. "Not... exactly... But... I suppose a part of me has been considering it for quite a while. Longer than I really realized it, anyway. I feel... drawn to him. I didn't used to understand it, but I do now," he chuckled and shrugged. "I suppose it all comes back to this," he said as he reached up and tapped his forehead again. "I'm bound to him. Trying to deny it has only brought me trouble, my whole life. Ever since I started to embrace it, I've been much better off, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hmph..." 'Moody' snorted. "Alright then... I'll contact the Dark Lord tonight... I can't say I'm all that comfortable with letting you leave here, knowing what you know..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've known what I know for ages now. If I haven't gone to the old goat before now, I'm certainly not about to go do it now."

"If you've known for ages then why haven't you come forward before now?"

"I told you – I knew that you were impersonating Moody with Polyjuice, but I didn't realize that you were Barty Crouch Jr."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Your father, honestly. Which really only confused me further."

"My father!"

"I've got this charmed map of the school. It shows a small dot to represent every person in the castle at any given time, and has their names listed beside the dot. Where I would expect it to say Alastor Moody – say, when you were at meals or teaching class and I was looking straight at you, instead it said 'Bartemius Crouch'. The map only gives first and last names. No middle names and no extra bits like Jr. or Sr."

"Do you now? Sounds like a rather interesting magical artifact... does anyone else have access to this thing?"

"No. I keep it on me at all times. And it's the only one. My dad made it back when he was a student here."

'Moody's' eyebrows rose a bit, to show he was mildly impressed. "So how did you finally figure out who I was?"

"Well I've seen you, as 'Barty' in my visions from Voldemort. I'd heard him refer to you as 'Barty'. But since I knew what you looked like, and you most certainly didn't look like the old man that I associated the name 'Bartemius Crouch' with, it never even occurred to me that the 'Bartemius Crouch' impersonating Moody could be the same Barty that was working for the Dark Lord. This last weekend I was talking with someone and found out a bit about your dad's backstory. Someone was talking about your being caught as a Death Eater and getting sent off to Azkaban, and that someone referred to you as 'Barty'. It simply turned on the light switch in my head."

"Light switch?"

"Sorry. Muggle thing. Nevermind. Anyway, my er... friends are gonna start getting suspicious if I take too much longer," Harry said as he reached into his bag and began to dig around. 'Moody' tensed and watched him carefully. Harry brought out a piece of folded parchment and placed it on Moody's desk.

"What's this?" 'Moody' asked, eying it skeptically.

"It's a charmed parchment. Anything you write on it will disappear and appear on its counterpart, which I have here," Harry said as he held up another identical piece of parchment. "It's not perfect, but I was a bit rushed. Anyone could read it, for example, so don't go leaving it around, and when you write something on it to me, keep it inconspicuous."

"I'm not a moron, Potter," 'Moody' snapped.

Harry smirked. "Obviously not. Honestly, I think you're pretty brilliant, even if you're not really Alastor Moody. You've been my favorite defense teacher, second only to the werewolf that taught us last year."

'Moody' snorted.

"So," Harry continued. "I'll check my parchment as often as I can for any messages from you. If you get word from the Dark Lord on when you and I can show up there, let me know. My house mates are getting a bit annoying in their curiosity about my frequent disappearances, but they've also become rather used to them. I usually disappear down into the chamber every bloody day, so if I suddenly disappear to some other place instead, no ones going to notice. Still can't be out past curfew though, or even more people will start asking questions."

"I'll take that into consideration. What's your schedule like, Potter?"

"Mondays, Thursday and Fridays are completely full. My last block on Tuesdays is open, but Wednesday I'm free from lunch on since I've only got Charms. My standard habit for the last few months is to head down to the chamber as soon as I'm done with dinner and not come back for about an hour and a half. My dorm mates are used to that, and it won't look strange if I'm gone for an hour after dinner most nights."

'Moody' nodded, as he memorized the information. "Alright, Potter. Now get the hell out of here."

Harry snickered and stood up. "I see that I've worn out my welcome. I'll be in touch."

– –

"What was that all about, Harry?" Ron asked as Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table in the great hall several minutes later.

"Moody wants to offer me some advanced lessons during and outside of class. Seeing as how I've already taught myself all of the 4th year defense spells that we're learning in class, and I'm going up against people three years ahead of me in schooling for the tournament, he figured it could do me a lot of good," Harry lied effortlessly as he began to pile food onto his plate.

"That's fantastic Harry," Hermione said softly, although the enthusiasm in her voice seemed a bit forced.

"Yeah, sounds wicked," Ron said, "Moody is a brilliant teacher... totally mental, but brilliant. But will this mean even more homework and stuff? I mean, you're already so busy all the time..."

"I'll probably be doing the extra defense lessons on Wednesdays when I've got the whole afternoon off. My evenings are starting to free up now so I may be spending some of them with Moody instead."

"Your evenings are freeing up?" Hermione asked, innocently and pointedly not making eye contact. Harry's eyes narrowed minutely, but he kept his overall disposition amicable.

"Well, most of my old projects are running dry, now that the second task is over. Some of the things I was studying weren't really 'done' with the task, and they were interesting so I kept working on them, anyway. I did sort of stumble upon a new thing though."

Hermione looked like she was struggling between being ecstatic that he was telling them things, and being frustrated by how vague he was being.

"New thing?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up at her with consideration for a moment. Harry had spent the previous night with companion... or Voldemort's soul shard... or whatever, trying to brainstorm on some ideas of how to deal with his 'friends' and specifically, how to deal with Hermione.

She was only going to grow more and more suspicious of him if he didn't do something soon. His companion had suggested involving her in his most recent project. Specifically, his attempt to learn Old Aldric and translate the ancient book that was hidden beneath Slytherin's desk. The idea was to let her think that he was finally sharing something important with her, to set her off all of the other things he was working on. And as a side benefit, he would get some help translating the book.

Harry had instantly been wary of involving her with it, but his companion had insisted that the information that they would translate would only enlighten her, and would pose no threat to Harry, or what he was doing.

He wondered what exactly that meant, but if there was anyone left in his life that he honestly trusted, it was his companion.

Feeling resigned, Harry sighed, reached into his bag and pulled out the book on Old Aldric. "It's an ancient language that was spoken by the British elves before they left this realm. I found a book that was written in their language, and I've been trying to translate it. This," he said, motioning to the book, "is a book on the language and how to learn it."

Hermione's face was alight with that excited glow she got when exposed to some great new learning opportunity.

"Harry this is incredible!" she exclaimed, snatching the book and running her fingers over it reverently. "The elves, you said? Oh Harry! This is remarkable! There is hardly anything left in recorded history about them! It's all myth and legend! You seriously found a book that was written in their language?"

"Yeah, but it's falling apart it's so old. I'm hesitant to even move it. I've started just copying it so that I can translate from the copy and not have to man-handle the original so much. I'll bring you a copy of it as I get it ready."

She gasped and looked as if she were about to burst with excitement. "Oh Harry! This is so incredible! Where on earth did you ever find such a thing?"

"Sorry Hermione. Not telling that part. I'm letting you in, but only so much. Prove to me it's not a mistake and I might tell you more." Harry said in a straight, serious tone before turning his attention back to his plate.

Hermione's excitement came up short, her brow furrowed, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. Finally she nodded her head in determination. "Alright Harry. I'll prove that you can trust me again. Let me help you."

Harry looked up at her, feeling rather skeptical, but he nodded in response.

Ron, sat there, watching the two of them through their entire exchange looking utterly confused.

"What in Merlin's name are you two on about?" he finally asked, when his confusion became so frustrating that he could no longer remain silent.

"Harry found a book written by the elves!" Hermione said with the excited glow returning to her face.

"House elves?" Ron asked, twisting up his face?

"No, Ron! Not House Elves! High Elves! The ancient elves of Britain!"

"Oh, that's a load of malarkey! There's no such thing," Ron said dismissively.

"There was to Ron! And this here is proof! It's a book all about their language!" she said, holding it up in front of him defiantly.

"That could be a book about anyone's old language. What proof is there that that came from High Elves? And if High Elves really existed, then where did they go? How come no one has ever seen one?"

Harry twisted up his face. "I think they left... to another realm, or something."

"Why would they do that? That's just silly."

"I'm still working on that part. Although, I think that the story in this book actually talks about it..." Harry said, hesitantly.

Hermione gasped and looked at him with even greater excitement. "Are you serious, Harry!"

He shrugged. "I think so, actually. It seems to be an origin story. It talks about what happened to the elves, and how human's first got magic."

Ron snorted. "Fairytales."

Hermione scowled angrily at Ron before turning back to Harry. "Harry this is an absolutely astounding discovery. I'm dying to know how you came about it, but I'll hold my tongue for now, alright?"

Harry grinned and nodded his head. "That would be appreciated."

"Can I borrow this book to start reading it?" Hermione said, looking down at the Old Aldric book in front of her.

"Actually, I can just spell you a copy. That book predates the copyright charms that are on all the books in the library, so there's nothing stopping us from just making you a copy."

Hermione gasped again. "You can perform the book copy charm! Harry that's an incredible bit of transfiguration! That's beyond NEWT level! It's hard enough to conjure something from nothing, let along permanent conjuring, and of something as detailed and thick as a book!"

"Well, I won't lie and pretend that it's easy. I've had more than a few failures, but I've been practicing quite a bit lately and I'm pretty sure I can make you a copy of this one."

Hermione gave him a speculative look. "You've been practicing the book copying charm?" she asked, with mild confusion. "Why?"

"I've been copying some books," he said with a smirk and a pointed look, silently reminding her of her promise not to ask too many questions.

She huffed a bit in frustration of being denied answers to her questions and pouted, but didn't press.

Harry grinned. This would probably work pretty well. Hermione had a desperate thirst for new knowledge, and as long as he was holding this elf stuff over her head, she was going to be a lot more cooperative.

"Anyway, once we get back to the common room, I'll work on spelling you a copy of the Old Aldric book, and you can start reading it. Unfortunately, the other book is far too fragile to risk using the spell to copy it so I'm having to do it a page at a time. It's taking me ages, so I'll need to disappear again tonight so I can keep working on it.

"That's where you were yesterday?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. Harry huffed.

"Yes. That is where I was yesterday."

"Why couldn't you just have told me that?"

"Because you want to know where specifically I'm going – right?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"And you want to know where I've found these books?"

Again, she nodded.

"Well I can't tell you. And as things stand right now, I don't intend to tell you. If you can work with me, without knowing those details, then we're golden. If not, then there's nothing more we can do about any of this."

"I'll work with you Harry!" she said with an air of desperation in her voice. "I'm going to prove to you that you can trust me. I just... I want to make sure that you're not doing anything that might be putting you in danger. I mean... you aren't leaving school grounds, are you! You heard what Sirius said, Harry! If you leave, it makes you exposed! You could be attacked!"

"I'm not leaving school grounds. I swear. Nothing I'm doing, with these books, is at all dangerous and no one can attack me. Alright?" Harry said in a calm, reassuring voice.

Hermione gave him a long hard look, seemingly trying to gauge his honesty. Finally she nodded her head and smiled.

"Alright, Harry. I trust you. Thank you for finally telling me some of it."

Harry gave her a soft reassuring smile and nodded his head. He still wasn't entirely convinced this was a good idea, but at least it would keep her distracted for a bit. And he had to admit, he could definitely use the help in translating the book.

– –

Potter -

Can you get out late unnoticed?

Harry sat at Slytherin's desk, looking at the recently changed parchment, and chewing on the tip of his quill.

Yes, but it works best if I do it after all my dorm mates are already asleep. 1am would be best.

He wrote on the parchment and the words disappeared from the parchment a moment later. Harry had a full set of classes the next day, so he didn't exactly fancy staying up all night, but he would if he didn't have any other option. His first class on Fridays was History of Magic and he could always use it for a good nap if needed.

As he waited for a response from Barty, he returned his attentions to the ancient elvish book and his slow, tedious job of copying the contents of each page the hard way. He had found that he'd gotten quite accustomed to the strange shaped letters, and his handwriting had improved dramatically as he progressed. Hopefully Hermione wouldn't have any trouble reading it.

1am it is, then. Meet me by the statue you mentioned, tonight.

Harry glanced over at the spelled parchment and watched as Barty's writing appeared. He groaned internally, grieving the imminent loss of sleep. If he was going to see Voldemort, he knew there was no way that this would be a brief visit. He wondered if he could sneak into the hospital wing and nick a vial of Pepper-Up potion to help him function, come morning.

Fridays were his busiest days, and he didn't have a single free period the whole day long. Worst of all, he had double-potions in the afternoon with Snape. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Harry tapped his wand on the parchment, clearing the last message before bringing his quill down and responding with a quick, 'Agreed. I'll be there.'

Harry took one more long look at ancient elvish book and sighed. He stood up, reached into his pocket and pulled out his trunk. He tapped the top of it, and restored it to it's full size, before hissing the third compartment open and beginning to sift through the books within.

– –

Sneaking away from the dormitory once all of his roommates were asleep was just as easy as it had been back when he was taking his potion once a week. Only this time he didn't tell Ron he might be waking up early, since Harry hoped that he would be back before any of the other boys woke up.

He slipped through the castle, beneath his invisibility cloak and with the activated Marauder's Map under the cloak with him. He got down to the second floor defense corridor and saw a dot for 'Bartemius Crouch' standing beside the one-eyed witch statue. When he actually approached, he didn't see anyone though. He reached out with his magic and could sense the presence of another wizard and after squinting, he determined that the other man was under a disillusionment charm of some sort.

Harry pulled back the hood of his cloak and smirked at the spot where he could feel Barty's magical signature coming from. He checked the map one more time just to make sure no one was going to be showing up in the next few seconds, before taking out his wand and tapping it on the witch's hump.

"Dissendium" he whispered quietly. The passageway quickly opened up and he nodded his head towards it.

'Moody' appeared and was eying Harry speculatively. "How exactly did you know I was there?"

"I could feel your magic," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. 'Moody' looked skeptical, but quickly made his way through the opening and down into the tunnel. Harry followed and closed it behind them. The two each cast Lumos spells on their wands and started a brisk pace down the tunnel.

About ten minutes of walking later and Harry came to a stop as he felt the oppressive weight of the castle wards suddenly lift from his shoulders and he let a small relieved sigh escape his lips.

"Okay, we can use the portkey now," he said as he turned to the older wizard. 'Moody' rose his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"You can sense the castle's wards?" he asked with mild skepticism.

Harry blinked back at him. "Yeah... you can't?"

"I'm perfectly capable of sensing magic, brat. I'm just surprised that you can."

"I don't see why that should be such a surprise... I mean, sure, a year ago I wouldn't have been able to do it, but I was wasting the majority of my magical energy on trying to keep a portion of the Dark Lord's soul from devouring my own. Since I stopped wasting so much of my bloody magic on something so pointless, I've got a much better handle on things. I figured this was probably what it was like for everyone."

'Moody' snorted. "Hardly, Potter. Very few wizards are in tune enough with the flow of magic to detect wards and auras. It is not a common talent."

"Hm," Harry hummed in his throat as he rose his eyebrows mildly. He gave a dismissive shrug, as if it really didn't matter... because, honestly? It didn't. And he held his hand out. 'Moody' looked at it and cocked a single curious eyebrow.

"The portkey?" Harry said.

'Moody' rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out a bottle cap with a hole punched in it and a small thin chain going through it.

Once Harry and 'Moody' were both holding the chain, 'Moody' said "morsmordre" and the portkey activated.

The feeling of having a fish hook latch on to the back of his navel and pull him backwards through a straw overcame him, and a swirling moment later, he was landing unsteadily on the floor in the entry hall to a very familiar manor house.

He only just barely managed to keep from falling over, and quickly steadied himself. His heart was racing, but he was honestly surprised to find that it was eager excitement far more than fear that was powering it. He was still a bit worried. There really was nothing guaranteeing that he would be leaving this building alive tonight, and yet he was oddly confident that he would be.

Harry paused and looked around the large, grand space. It was obvious that the muggles who owned the house before Voldemort took up residence, had been very wealthy. It was also obvious that it hadn't actually been inhabited in a great long while. Harry knew that Wormtail had been tasked with cleaning the place up a bit, but the man was clearly no house cleaner.

Still, it was grand and impressive, and with a little spell work, the place could probably look quite nice.

Harry's musings were brought to an abrupt halt when he felt the cool point of 'Moody's' wand press into the back of his neck.

"Is that really necessary, Barty?" Harry said in a bored tone.

"Your wand, Potter."

Harry sighed and dug into his pocket, pulling it out and handing it over.

"It's not like I could really use the thing all the way out here anyway. This far away from Hogwarts and using it would set off the Ministry trace," Harry grumbled, defiantly.

"Up the stairs, Potter," Moody said, ignoring Harry's comment, and jerking his head towards the stairs in front of them.

Harry rolled his eyes and set off at a brisk pace.

"Is he in the library, or the study?" he said casually, over his shoulder.

'Moody' paused and Harry could almost feel the man's narrowed, suspicious eye burning into his back.

"The library," he said after a moment.

Harry reached the top of the first flight of stairs and made a right, heading directly for the library. 'Moody' came up beside him and continued to eye Harry suspiciously.

"So, out of curiosity," Harry began to speak in a casual tone, "Are you going to let your polyjuice dose wear off while we're here? I'd be interested to see you with your real face, rather than Alastor Moody's."

"Probably not, Potter."

Harry shrugged, only mildly disappointed before he came to a stop at the wide double-doors that would lead to the library and paused, glancing over at his escort.

"Just open the doors, Potter," he said.

Harry grinned and reached out with each hand to open the pair of doors in one sweep. A few steps into the room and Harry's eyes were drawn to the back of the small, levitating chair that he had become familiar with through his visions. He could just barely make out a small hand with long, skeletal fingers curling over one arm rest, showing him just enough to know that Voldemort was currently occupying the chair. The visual was merely a confirmation though, since he could feel the waves of magical power emanating from the occupant of the chair.

The feel of that magic was remarkably familiar, and the intensity of its darkness was literally intoxicating. Harry took a deep breath and had to fight to keep his eyes open and looking forward. The sheer power of the dark magic that was rolling off the Dark Lord was indescribable.

"My Lord," came 'Moody's' reverent, awe-filled voice, from behind Harry. "I have brought you Harry Potter."

"Ah, yes... so you have... you have served me well, Barty. I am pleased."

Harry took a few more steps closer and came to a stop. The chair began to turn, slowly, to expose the small homunculus vessel that the Dark Lord Voldemort currently resided in. He was piercing Harry with bright red, narrow, and suspicious eyes

Harry took two quick steps forward that caused 'Moody' to tense and aim his wand at Harry. Harry ignored the man and lowered himself onto one knee in a quick, fluid movement, and bowed his head.

"My Lord," he breathed the words, through his insane elation. He looked up at the piercing red eyes, through his fringe of messy black hair, and knew that his own emerald eyes were probably glowing with his excitement. His blood was pounding through his veins and his magic was dancing around him maniacally.

He couldn't rationally understand how he could feel so excited at this moment, but he was. He felt almost giddy. He was really here! Before the most powerful dark wizard of his time, and the man was looking straight at him, and he could feel the man's magic lashing out and tangling with his own. Licking at each other's magic like flames, and then dancing together dangerously. Deliciously.

He barely suppressed a shudder as he saw the Dark Lord shift forward in his undersized levitating chair.

"Your Lord?" the high pitched voice of Voldemort's homunculus spoke with a mixture of disbelief, and amusement. "I never anticipated such a thing would ever be willingly uttered by the Boy-Who-Lived," he said, sneering the title with obvious disdain. "You will forgive me if I am appropriately skeptical of all this."

Harry's eye twitched and he sneered lightly. "I hate that name," he muttered under his breath.

"Hmm? What was that Potter? Speak up brat."

"I hate that name," Harry said, louder, as he rose his head and smirked at the miniature dark lord. "The Boy-Who-Lived. What a load of tripe. Famous for something I don't remember and had absolutely no control over. It's idiotic."

"Hmph. Yes, well, I can't say that I entirely disagree with that assessment," Voldemort said, raising a single hairless brow. "Still, I am quite curious about this 'My Lord' business. Not that I do not believe that I am more than deserving of your respect and deference, but I am curious as to what has spawned the realization in you."

"It is merely fact. You are the lord of all dark wizards. Magic deemed it so, right? That's just how it works. I am a dark wizard. It is both my chosen, and practiced magical affinity, so that makes you mylord. It's just that simple," Harry said with a simple shrug, as if this were obvious.

The look in Voldemort's face said that he had not expected this response.

He held his wand in his bony, undersized hand and performed a few quick swirls and flicks.

Harry blinked and raised straightened slightly, while still remaining bent on a single knee, as he sensed a wave of magic course out of the wand and encircle him. There was a confused moment where he wondered what exactly the spell was, but all thought left him a moment later as he felt the powerful magic course through him. It was all Voldemort, and it was incredible. His magic tasted like him, if that made any sense at all, which Harry knew it didn't. It just reeked of the man in every indescribable way, and feeling it for the first time as it came out and touched him, was mind blowing.

The spell wasn't intended to actually feel like anything, he could tell. It wasn't the spell itself that was affecting him, but rather Voldemort's raw magic that formed the spell.

Harry's head had fallen back onto his shoulder and a small noise emanated from deep in his throat before he felt the magic leave him.

He blinked in surprise, and mild disappointment at the sudden disappearance of the spell – whatever it was. It hadn't been a curse. For that matter, it hadn't even been a dark spell, but Voldemort's magic was fundamentally dark, and that had been more than enough to effect Harry deeply.

Harry suddenly became aware that a bright, saturated, red light was now glowing from around him. He raised a single questioning eyebrow and then looked back up at the Dark Lord questioningly. The man had an expression of mild surprise on his face, which was slowly morphing into a wicked grin. A wonderfully frightening cackle emerged from Voldemort's lips next and it sent a thrill down Harry's spine.

The cackling died down a moment later, but the amusement never left the Dark Lord's face.

"Oh, this is just precious! Dumbledore's little golden-boy, with a powerful affinity for dark magic!"

Harry blinked and he realized what spell had been cast on him. "That's the spell that reveals a person's magical affinity, wasn't it?"

"Yes, of course, you stupid brat. What the devil did you think it was?"

Harry shrugged. "I do not doubt that you probably know thousands more spells than I do. There was no telling what you were casting." Harry paused and looked rather thoughtful. "Is there a way to prevent that spell? Block it or something? It would be incredibly inconvenient if someone cast that on me at school.

Voldemort's amusement shifted slowly to the cold calculating curiosity from earlier. "There is. Perhaps I will tell you later. Now, tell me how this happened brat. In your first year, you were every bit the stupid Gryffindor beacon of the light."

Harry snorted and looked away slightly. "Yeah, well in first year I was a naive, stupid little eleven year old boy who hadn't known a damn thing about magic a year prior. Dumbledore stuck me with muggles to keep me ignorant of the magical world and malleable to his ideals. He wanted a clean slate that he could write only what he deemed appropriate on, once I came to Hogwarts. I acted the way I felt I was expected to act. My only real priority was to be accepted by those around me because I spent my entire youth being loathed by those who were supposed to be my family.

"Dumbledore worked it so that he had full control over what information I had access to, and he had full control over what opinions I could form about the way of magic and the wizarding world. He set it up so that he could mold my thoughts and ideals towards his own. It worked... for a while. This year, however, I had a bit of a wake-up call," Harry said with a sly grin.

"Do go on," Voldemort said, waving his hand and grinning. He seemed entirely amused by Harry's rant on the damned old fool, Dumbledore, and honestly a bit impressed that Potter had managed to see what the Light's beacon was doing, for what it really was.

Harry paused and shifted his position slightly. "Can I sit? This story will take a bit of time, and the whole kneeling thing is going to get rather uncomfortable rather quickly."

Voldemort looked less amused at this, but sighed a bit in exasperation before waving his hand and summoning a chair from some place in the room and bringing it to rest beside where Harry was kneeling. "Impudent brat," he muttered.

Harry grinned roguishly and quickly stood up and shifted over to the chair. He threw himself into it in a rather undignified manner and Voldemort sneered slightly at Harry's inexplicably confident demeanor, given his situation and surroundings.

Harry, oddly enough, found himself feeling right at home in the manor library. He had strange, vague impressions of memories of spending a great deal of time relaxing and reading in this room, in addition to the very clear memories of several visions that had taken place mostly here.

But aside from his comfort with the room he was sitting in, it was the magical ambiance from the Dark Lord opposite him that felt the most familiar. It wasn't quite the same as the vibe he got off of his companion, but it was remarkably similar. It made sense, when he thought about it logically, but it was still seriously weird when he realized just how strong the urge was to go touch the man... er... little creature, opposite him. The only positive touches Harry had ever regularly experienced had been in the embrace of his companion... who was in actually, a piece of the wizard sitting opposite him.

Combining his strange familiarity with the room, and the irrational comfort he got from being so near the magical signature of the Dark Lord, he almost felt as comfortable here as he did down in Slytherin's chamber with his companion whispering to him.

"Oh!" Harry said, having suddenly remembered something. "I almost forgot," Harry said as he reached into his robes. 'Moody' who was standing to the side with his wand trained on Harry, tensed and watched Harry's movements very closely.

Neither of the men had entirely expected to see Harry pull out a small object, the size of a matchbox.

Harry took his miniaturized trunk and set it down on the floor in front of him. He paused and looked over at 'Moody'.

"Can you unshrink it? Seeing as how you've taken my wand, I can't do it on my own."

"What's in it?" 'Moody' asked, eying the tiny trunk as if it were contaminated with something deadly and dangerous.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just books, and none of them are even cursed."

Harry noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, that Voldemort's demeanor shifted slightly, and a margin of curiosity entered the tiny figure's eyes. "Do it, Barty," Voldemort said with a disinterested tone that didn't fool Harry at all.

'Moody' walked over and tapped his wand on the top of the trunk. It instantly returned to it's normal size and Harry leaned over, turning the latch and hissed out the password to the third compartment.

Voldemort's eyes widened and blazed with curiosity.

"Notechus?" Voldemort asked, translating the name that Harry had used for his parseltongue password back into English.

"Er, yeah. Notechus Noir is the alias I've been using when ordering things from Knockturn Alley, and any questionable vendors. The name Harry Potter is a bit too well known, after all. Notechus is the Latin name for the tiger snake. Noir is for Black, as in my godfather, Sirius Black..." Harry paused and looked around the room, suddenly. "Where is Wormtail, by the way? I was honestly hoping to see the little rat bastard while I was here."

"Wormtail is otherwise engaged at the moment... how is it that you knew he was here?" Voldemort asked with annoyed curiosity blazing in his eyes.

"Ah, yes. I'll be getting to that real soon here. Let's get this out of the way first. Consider it a bit of a peace offering, I guess. It's sort of an 'I'm sorry I was such a stupid little brat in my first year and delayed your revival by an extra three years'-gift. I won't apologize for the thing that happened when I was a baby, because I honestly don't think that I had anything to do with that. I mean... I am sorry that it happened because a decade as a floating spirit really had to suck, but I don't think it was my fault." Harry said as he began to pull book after book out of his trunk and stack them on the floor beside it.

"Those books!" Voldemort gasped as he began to recognize them.

"I brought you the originals. I made copies of quite a few of them for myself to keep though. When I first thought up the idea to bring them to you, I kind of hated it because it would mean parting with them myself and I've grown quite fond of these books. I set myself the task of figuring out how to copy them, and since pretty much all of these books predated the copy-protection charms that book publishers use these days, it wasn't too hard for me to manage. In the end I knew it was worth the effort. I knew you'd appreciate this more than just about anything else I could bring you right now."

By the time Harry had finished talking and pulling out all of the books he had prepared to give to Voldemort, the small man-creature had directed his levitating chair up much closer and was now leaning forward and inspecting the books with wild, excited eyes.

"You found Slytherin's study." Voldemort stated, not taking his eyes off the books.

Harry grinned. "Yup. Been spending most of my time there this year, actually. The chamber is just fantastic for dark spell practice since it's not connected to any of the school's wards, but still shielded from the Ministry's magic detection. I can cast all sorts of nasty things while I'm down there and no one is the wiser at all. It's bloody brilliant!"

Voldemort continued to examine the pile of books with a carefully concealed excitement for a moment longer before his eyes narrowed with suspicion and they slowly trailed up to look at Harry.

"Enough stalling brat. I want an explanation. You know things you should not know. There is more going on here than you've let on. I demand answers."

Harry nodded his head and gave a weak grin. "Alright. Are you aware that you left a piece of yourself behind when you tried to kill me when I was a baby?"

"A piece of myself?" Voldemort said in an almost mocking tone. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"A sliver of your soul broke off and got stuck to me."

Voldemort's face took on a look of incredulity, which morphed into shock, which then morphed into dawning realization and understanding. Harry found it fascinating to watch the expressions unfold on the face of the miniature snake-like human creature. All of this transpired across his face in a matter of seconds before he mastered his expression to a mask of suspicion.

"Explain," Voldemort ordered in a harsh whisper.

And so Harry did. He began by telling the dark lord how he used to escape into his mind when he was younger, but there was a dark spot there that scared him, so he began to try and build a mental wall around it. About his theory that he had done some sort of accidental mind magic, and had, for years, continued to focus an enormous amount of his magic towards keeping that wall up, and keeping him separate from the dark spot in his mind.

He told him about at the Halloween feast, when his name came out of the cup, how everyone had turned against him. About how the supposed great, indestructible friendship between he and his Gryffindor friends, had been tossed aside so easily.

He explained the first night that he slipped back into his mindscape in years and years, and his rediscovery of the dark spot. His realization that he had been throwing a mountain of magic at it all these years, and his decision to take the magical wall down.

Voldemort remained surprisingly silent. He didn't even snap at Harry for going on about idiotic sentimentalities. Instead he had a calculating look to him. He was obviously taking in every detail the boy was saying and analyzing the hidden meanings and explanations behind every event that Harry still didn't entirely understand.

"Looking back I see how much the way my mind works changed during that time... but at the time, I didn't notice anything at all," Harry mused at one point. "I started thinking differently. Not having so much of my subconscious dedicated to keeping up that wall allowed my mind to work so much faster and clearer. I was able to see the hidden motives and agendas behind things. I..." he chuckled and shrugged, "I became a lot more cynical about things, but honestly, I like to think that I became lot more realistic. Less gullible. Less foolish.

"I started to see Dumbledore's manipulations for what they were. I know you've got Wormtail here, so I assume you know at least a bit about the whole business with my godfather? Sirius Black was my parents secret keeper, and he got framed for giving them up, and then killing all those muggles that the rat blasted apart. He got sent off to Azkaban without a trial. Not even a questioning under Veritaserum. Nothing. Just carted straight off to prison.

"Thing is, I started to wonder – why wouldn't Dumbledore have done anything to make sure Justice was properly served? That's his thing, isn't it? All moral high ground and that rot. He's the head of the Wizengamot. He could have insisted that Sirius at least get a questioning under truth serum. Shouldn't he have wanted to? To get some more information about me having survived? If he was really your follower and was in on the whole you coming to get us plot, then he might have known something. He should have been questioned. But Dumbledore didn't insist on anything of the sort. He let him just get carted straight off to prison.

"So I was wondering... why? But then I found out something even more interesting. Apparently, Dumbledore had me taken straight from the wreckage of my parent's house to the Dursley's front porch, the night it all happened. I was found on their doorstep on November 1st. Sirius hadn't even caught up to Wormtail by then, let along have been accused of killing him and a bunch of muggles. When I was left in the hands of those disgusting muggle trash, I still had an entirely valid and worthwhile guardian assigned by my parent's will, to take me in.

"I wrote my aunt a letter about a month ago asking her about what they were told by Dumbledore about having to take me in. I knew she would never be too keen on helping me out, so I laced the letter with a compulsion charm, and the stupid bint wrote back right away. Apparently Dumbledore only left a letter with me. That was it. He left me on their bloody doorstep, all night long, with nothing more than a letter, telling them that they had to take me in. He didn't even stick around to talk with them. Just ditched me on the porch. In his letter, he gave every indication that it was a permanent placement, and they had no choice but to accept. He had no intention of me ever leaving them to go to my godfather.

"That's why he let Sirius get carted off without a trial. He didn't want me to end up with him. He wanted me with those muggles. His excuse about me getting a fat head from fame, if I had been raised in the wizarding world may sound valid enough, but I think it's a lot more insidious than that. He wanted me ignorant," Harry growled. He didn't realize it, but his eyes had slowly begun to glow a deep verdant green as the slow boiling rage within him grew. Voldemort watched this with concealed glee, and a powerful curiosity. The glowing green color was remarkably reminiscent of the glow of the killing curse. He could feel the dark magic rolling off the boy and he had to admit that Harry Potter seemed to contain a monumental amount of magic for his age.

Voldemort's experience observing the boy during his first year had been annoyingly disappointing. Harry Potter, his prophesied vanquisher, was a down-right pathetic student, and a below-average wizard. There was nothing magically remarkable about the boy at all. In fact, he had seemed magically weak. But now, knowing what he knew about the boy having dedicated what had to have been a tremendous amount of his magic to keeping his horcrux at bay, the boy's poor magical performance earlier in life made a world of sense.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his head as he visibly centered himself and pushed down some of his rage. Next he began recanting how his 'companion' began to grow in consciousness. How it became a presence in his mind, and how it began to relay images, ideas, and emotions to Harry, even during his waking time spent outside of his mindscape.

Harry described the potions class when his 'companion' first spoke to him, and then how he was gradually able to speak more often, and remain in Harry's conscious mind for longer periods of time. Harry explained about how his companion's voice tended to be a rather raspy staccato, and how he was more often than not, rather vague, but that he was still able to get the message across when it was really important.

He continued on, eventually covering the visions, and the various things he had gradually come to understand over the last few months.

–

Voldemort found it utterly fascinating that his horcrux had become sentient and powerful enough to communicate with the boy, and yet he was mildly concerned that it had told him what it was. As Harry continued to describe his interactions with his horcrux and the things it had taught him, and guided him to figure out himself, he was intrigued. Apparently it had only recently told him what 'it' was. That it was a piece of Voldemort's soul. It had also left out the fact that there were others, or what they were called. Potter never once uttered the word horcrux, and it appeared this 'companion' as Potter referred to it, had a tendency to be rather vague when explaining things. Still, the fact that anyone knew about his horcruxes was upsetting.

The fact that he had inadvertently made Harry bloody Potter into one left him in a state of uncertainty. He needed time to analyze the various ramifications of this. He also needed to completely rethink his resurrection ritual.

When Barty had first come to him and told him that Harry Potter had come to his office, and volunteered to help with Voldemort's resurrection, his initial reaction was to think the whole thing a trap, and wonder how the hell the old man had found out what was going on.

He had known that if it were true – which, surely it could not be true – that he would need to make a few alterations to his ritual. It would be considerably more powerful if Potter's blood was given freely in an act of betrayal... and if the boy's magic was truly dark, as Barty had suggested it might be, then... well the possibilities were rather intriguing. His resurrection could be going much better than he had expected, if any of this were true.

But now... now! Oh, how this changed things... The boy truly was dark. Incredibly so. He rarely saw such a purely dark aura, and never in one so young. Granted, his own aura had been that dark at this age, but he was rather unique. But it really did make sense when considering that his own soul had tainted the boy so thoroughly. So the boy was dark, and it really did appear that Potter was willing to betraying everyone and joining his side. The boy honestly wanted to aid in his resurrection of his own free will. All of these factors would drastically change his ritual, but add the fact that the boy was a horcrux, and he was having serious trouble reigning in his own insane glee.

He had wanted to involve one of his horcruxes in the resurrection ritual. It would have made things so much smoother, and returned his new body to full strength almost instantly. There would be no long arduous process of acclimating the body to his magic once it was completed.

It had been one of the reasons he had made Nagini a horcrux using that stupid ministry bint, Jorkins, who so conveniently stumbled across him the summer prior. But Nagini was a horcrux created after his body had been destroyed and he discovered that this would prevent him from properly using her in the ritual he devised. No... it had to be one he had created prior to the disaster with the Potters. But would one created because of said disaster work? It would! He was sure of it. In fact, it was ideal.

When he'd first realized that Nagini wouldn't work he had considered going after one of his other horcruxes, but that hadn't been a viable option in the end because he was no where near strong enough to get past all of the protections he had placed around the ring and the locket. He had no chance of gaining access to Hogwarts for the diadem, and didn't trust anyone else in retrieving it for him. Bellatrix was locked away in Azkaban, so he had no access to her vault to get the cup, and Voldemort didn't trust Lucius and his powerlust with Voldemort in his currently weakened state.

So he had had to settle for other options. He had turned to relying on only the boy's blood instead.

But now... now he could have the best of both worlds. It was as if the Fates were finally smiling upon him.

But that thought really only brought him back to other concerns.

The damned Prophecy. What would all this mean with the prophecy? He never had heard the entire thing. Could it have perhaps spoken of the boy turning? If he allowed the boy to live, would he be putting himself at risk? The boy couldn't possibly vanquish him, seeing as how as long as the boy lived, Voldemort was immortal. The boy's very existence made it impossible for him to die.

There had to be more. It was more obvious than ever that he needed to learn the full prophecy. Could he use the boy for that?

Voldemort refocused on Harry Potter and a sly grin spread across his lips. He had remained quiet for several long minutes once the boy had stopped relaying his story, and the other had been surprisingly patient for someone his age. He looked oddly... comfortable. That was almost unsettling. No one ever looked comfortable in his presence. Terrified, cowed, reverent... but never comfortable.

"I will need some time to rework the ritual," he said finally and Harry grinned and nodded.

"I figured as much."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed but he didn't acknowledge the statement any further. He had been greatly unsettled when Potter had recounted his 'dream visions' he had where he had been inside Voldemort's mind. Seeing, thinking, and feeling as him. Given the nature of their unique connection, he could understand how it was possible, but he was still entirely displeased by this breach of his mental security. If things had been different; if the boy hadn't turned dark; the breach could have been disastrous for him.

However, Potter made it sound like any of these 'visions' that he had, before embracing Voldemort's horcrux, had been vague, difficult to remember, and so painful he found it difficult to think clearly after one. It wasn't until he had begun to turn dark and meld with the horcrux that the visions cleared up and became coherent.

Voldemort considered his next action for a long moment. He was greatly inclined to simply hold the boy at the manor until his preparations were complete. The idea of letting this opportunity slip through his fingers by allowing Potter to go back to Hogwarts, left bile in his throat. But it would be a necessary test.

If he was to incorporate the boy's voluntary participation in the ritual, it had to actually be voluntary. The boy had to choose to return for the ritual. And he felt strangely sure that the boy would return.

"Barty will take you back to Hogwarts. I will contact him when I am ready to perform the ritual. It shouldn't be long. You will come when he says it is time. Is that understood?" Voldemort said in a tone that booked no room for argument. Oddly enough, the boy grinned.

"Sounds like a plan. Not that my input is really welcome, but if you could work it to be on either a Wednesday afternoon or sometime during a weekend, that would be great. If it's got to be an all-night sort of thing, then a Tuesday night would be grand. I've only got charms on Wednesdays and nothing else. I could easily skiv the class off too, if need be."

"Still so confident that I'll be letting you leave, afterwards?" Voldemort remarked drying with a raised brow.

"You're letting me leave now, aren't you? Besides, even without the whole 'my existing makes you immortal' thing, I know I can be useful to you if I stay on the 'in' with the old goat."

Voldemort smirked, even thought he knew he should have glared. The brat was obstinate and impertinent, and yet it somehow didn't piss him off. The boy reminded him of himself at that age, only with far more pathetic manners, and an annoyingly cocky demeanor. But he could work on that. This arrangement with Potter could prove to be extremely beneficial if he played his cards right.

He had thought that Dumbledore was trying to groom the boy into taking his place as Lord of the Light, but it was looking more and more that the old man had only considered the boy his weapon, and nothing more. Well, if he had hoped the boy to one day take his place, he was in for quite a surprise.

His grin spread.

Very interesting, indeed.

–

It was nearing dawn by the time everything had been completed and Harry returned to the manor's entry hall with 'Moody'. The man had continued to drink from his flask and maintain his transformation, rather than under go the painful discomfort of transforming back to his true self, and then back into Moody when it was time to leave. Harry was mildly disappointed at not getting to see Barty in his true form, but knew it really didn't matter at the moment.

They activated the 2-way portkey and reappeared at the exact same spot in the tunnel that they had left from. Harry was exhausted and once he and 'Moody' parted ways after exiting the tunnel, Harry slipped on his cloak and made his way to the hospital wing. He'd been there plenty enough times that he knew exactly where Madam Pomfrey kept the Pepper-Up potions and a simple Alohomora was all that was needed to unlock the cabinet. Considering that the unlocking charm was a second-year spell (although, of course, Hermione had known it in first), he wondered why people even bothered using such a weak locking spell on anything.

He slipped the potion into his pocket, intent on taking it shortly before breakfast, and slipped out of the hospital wing unnoticed by any. By the time he made it up to his dorm room, there was only an hour and a half before the rest of his dorm mates would be getting up to get ready for breakfast. He quickly changed into bed clothes and laid down in bed. An hour and a half of sleep wouldn't likely do him much good, but he could at least slip into his mindscape and discuss the nights events with his companion.

The experience had been bewilderingly exhilarating. Part of him still couldn't believe that he'd really done it. He had gone to Voldemort! He had spent the night in the company of the most powerful dark lord to come about in centuries, and he had loved every ruddy minute of it. Just being near him had been incredible to Harry's magical senses. The very air was alive with the powerful wizard's magic, and that was despite him being in an extremely limited form.

He couldn't wait until the man was fully restored. How insane was that? He was bloody excited, and vibrating with anxious anticipation for the resurrection ritual. He wished it would be that weekend, but he doubted it would be ready so soon. Perhaps it would be the following Wednesday? If it ended up needing to be any other day of the week he could still make it work. It would make Hermione suspicious, but hopefully he could work around it. Make something up about the old Albic book? Or maybe something else entirely. He'd work something out.

Harry let out a long sigh, trying to disperse some of his excitement, and slipped into his mindscape.

[aparticularbandit]

State of Bandit Fic

it’s been a couple of months since i posted one of these and i’d like to have one done by the end of the year SO here we go. under a read more for length.  my apologies, mobile users.

plans for the rest of the year:

roisa secret santa goes up next monday.  i still don’t know what i’ll post on the monday after that.  i have another chapter ish of falling written, but idk if that’s a direction i really want to go with that novel.  maybe, maybe not.  idk.

word count maintained 2k during november with only a few hiccups.  this month the first couple of weeks i had multiple days where word count was less than 1k.  i’ve gotten it back up to 1k and think that the sudden jump from main focus on roisa hp au to main focus on rss was part of the issue there (when i go and make sure i get 1k in the hp au, i tend to hit 2k again, so there’s that).  i plan to try and maintain the 1k to the end of the year with the hope that i reach a total of 400k written this year (at the end of november, i was at approximately 381.5k - give or take a few - which means i only needed to write 18.5k this month.  i have at least 11.5k in various other non-roisa hp au projects from this month, not including any word count from second writes, and i know i’ve done at least another 1k (probably 2k or more) in the roisa hp au - so i should be hitting that if i keep up the 1k minimum).

that Christmas project i said i started last year and wanted to finish this year won’t be finished in time for Christmas most likely so my apologies.  :/  it just takes more mental thought for less word count and my focus right now is on rss.  sorry.

plans for next year:

i’m very tentative on these, but this is what i’ve been thinking about (and may or may not actually do):

focus on five days a week at 1-2k with saturdays and sundays off - still plan on keeping word count on one of those days but giving the other one for second write for the monday update because i’ve found that trying to do the second write and final edits and get 1k written is really hard for me to do, especially with longer updates.  so i’m not going to push myself for that.

this also potentially allows me an additional day to spend editing or drafting other projects - like the roisa hp au or mexican stud or stuff like that which i want to be finished and go through another edit and possible betaing before posting - and while that might not be immediately, i like that space being open and available.

focus on finishing the rough draft of the first book of the roisa hp au and hopefullly get it through a second draft and betaing and polishing so that maybe it starts getting posted in july or august.

i was thinking july but we’ll see.  i don’t want to lock myself into something like i did with ACAL this year, and while i like having it set up for the beginning of the school year, i’m not sure that’s enough time.  i haven’t done this kind of editing/drafting/betaing before on a project - with the exception of noir fic, which...hasn’t been posted and got stalled in the fourth draft.

i also think that this would be in place of the monday updates instead of a separate update as i originally planned.  because this first book is currently 16 chapters long, that would give me multiple months to focus on other projects while they’re updating - and that time off was something i really wanted in july and ended up getting mostly in october and november.  so we’ll see.

possibly hosting roisa fic week probably around july 4th and then possibly hosting rss next year, as well, but with a longer application time (probably all of october, but unsure).

possibly pick-up lines month for january into february in time for valentine’s day.  still not sure.

more focus on personal projects.

i want to write my original fic and i’ve been focusing on fanfic and that’s not a problem but i should do some writing on my original fic, too.

not sure what this means yet because i plan to maintain monday updates because that’s been a good schedule for the past however many months and i like having that schedule.

i did set up a blog for that fantasy thing i mentioned a while back, but it’s...more complicated and something i want to ease into before bringing it up real big.  so.  in the wings.

time off from social media in january.

not sure how i’ll be doing this either, but i just want to take some time off from facebook/tumblr/twitter/etc.  i don’t think full blackout because i plan to still be posting links to chapter updates and such here, but i’ve found...i get really worn-out and waste so much time and i just.  want to see what happens.  idk.

so that’s that.

and then general fic updates:

posted but incomplete fics:

if you lived here, you’d be home now

no change from last update

started a reread, maybe that’ll help

jane: the real story

no change from last update

might be dead fic; i’m not super interested in continuing this

blame soulmate timer au

heart in motion

no change from last update

luisa and the child

aka the sequel to luisa and the fox

no change since last update with the exception of some brainstorming

sin rostro

holding off because other projects are louder right now.  still excited for this idea, though

emilia antonia

started the next chapter.

probably going to be focusing on this as one of my primary focuses in the new year.  actually i should poll about this.

falling

have another chapter written but not posted but not sure if want to keep that direction or not

started the chapter past that one as well

aftershocks

all of the current chapters are posted

back to back-burner

debating a flashback chapter

the time of your life

finished posting bitches get glitches

rafael’s fic - and the rest of this series - is one of my potential primary focuses in the new year.  i’m still really excited about this series and where it’s going.

have working titles for both rafael’s and petra’s fics.

apparently michael, who i hadn’t planned to have involved, is maybe going to actually show up.  i’m thinking his first appearance might be in petra’s fic, but i’m not sure on that point.

unposted fics:

where the lightning splits the sea:

aka roisa hp au

the first book rough draft is probably going to be my primary focus in the new year, as i stated above.

currently in chapter eleven of what i expect will be sixteen.  chapter lengths vary, so it’s possible that when i go through the second write i may change chapter divisions so that they aren’t too long for ao3 postings.

i’m still super excited to be writing this one and super excited to jump into this fic so - i haven’t hit burnout, which is amazing.

mexican stud

aka rosalint fic

no change from last update

probably a primary focus in the new year as stated above

everything’s coming up roses

no change from last update

various other soulmate aus

no change from last update

epic superhero crossover

aka jtv/tick/timeless/supergirl/x-files/agent carter/person of interest crossover

possibly also to include proven innocent and deputy in a tie-in with the x-files aspect - re: how to get mulder and scully directly involved and not just have the syndicate and world-building aspects

still getting bigger

obviously i have added in person of interest as part of the crossover - primarily because i pulled in wendy mcnally - bridget’s character - from one of the episodes not because i’m pulling in main characters or themes (although there’s a possibility of that)

i have started bits and pieces of this

mexican stud, obviously

mostly dottie/lint stuff

and then a few thousand words in collateral damage, which is basically the wendylu fic that explains what happens with luisa in the three years after rose’s death

the primary fic taking place three years after rose dies but there are a lot of other interconnecting fics that cover that period and earlier, etc.

i want this to be a primary focus, but it’s...complicated

timeless/noir fusion fic

HEY I STARTED IT

IT SHOULD BE REALLY COOL

LOOK IT’S EXCITING AND I WANT TO WRITE MORE OF IT

basic premise: lucy teams up with amnesiac!assassin!emma as they delve into secret societies and etc.

emma is an assassin and has amnesia.

rittenhouse doesn’t suck.

carol doesn’t suck.

lucy is still a history professor, but at amy’s behest (YEAH AMY’S ALIVE), she went to a smaller university somewhere else instead of going into carol’s department

idk who else will show up in the fic yet - emma probably has one of the machines but i’m not sure which one yet either, so that means probably should look at rufus/jiya/mason and maybe flynn BUT not sure

noir is very female-focused with no male main characters so trying to mesh that with timeless is complicated

the focus would need to be on emma and lucy and their relationship

as a result, this will likely end up being prestmore.

sorry not sorry.

there are other projects i’ve considered - like one with nymphs kind of related to something else, and pick-up lines month like i mentioned above, AND ALSO @only-freakin-sunflowers AND I MIGHT BE BRAINSTORMING A COLLAB PROJECT - but i think that’s a good place to stop for now.  ^^

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

4th Anniversary Stuff

I had quite the long day yesterday and now I am a day late^^’

But, well, anyway... Watchdog of the Queen turned four yesterday! Yey!

I have been terrible again with updates in the last few months, so if you’re still here and waiting - thank you! Life and university kept me busy and exhausted lately (and I was, to my surprise, picked for a zine!), but I’m still working on the next chapter and have no intention of dropping this story anytime soon! Not when it is still keeping my brain busy.

I think I’m always getting so melodramatic and repetitive in these posts^^’ Sorry...

Well, last year, I put together some trivia and notes and I thought I would do the same this year! But that’s not everything...

When I started writing this fic, I created a file to collect little bits and pieces as I thought of them. So far, I have 258 snippets in that file^^’ Some are just a sentence long, others some pages. And I thought that, if someone’s interested, you can send me a number between 11 and 258 and I’ll post either the entire thing or part of it. However, if it’s just a sentence or a joke I have saved for later, I will reserve not to post it. (And it’s from 11 to 258 and from 1 to 258 because the first ten are just too old and irrelevant.)

Thank you so much for sticking with me for four years now! And let’s hope for many more^^

Story

The little “add-on” about Oscar and Cloudia on the intermission chapter was actually supposed to be much longer. It would have not just been about Cloudia returning to the townhouse and talking to Oscar there after she met Cedric for the first time, but it would have been an extended version of the entire first three chapters. It was supposed to start with the morning before Cloudia went to that party and end with her conversation with Oscar. It even had a proper name: “The Countess, Once Again.” But I thought it would be too long and too boring, so I just kept the last part of it. I did like the beginning part when Cloudia woke up; I was quite sad to cut it. (I wrote it in late 2017/early 2018… while it was snowing! *sigh*)

While finishing the general outline and concept of Arc 4, I thought about roughly basing it on a fairy-tale, and because it’s set in France, I thought about picking a French fairy-tale. (Also the term “fairy-tale” was actually introduced by Madame d’Aulnoy, a Frenchwoman, so it would have been perfect!) Unfortunately, it did not work out because the arc became too stuffed with other things.

Originally, they were supposed to go to Réchicourt-le-Château, not Nanteuil-la-Forêt, but I changed it to cut their travelling time shorter. They were also supposed to stay at the proper Château Dupont, rather than at an acquaintance’s place. I changed it because I thought it would be too silly to say that, of all places, Nicodemus Townsend was spotted/the Clockmaker is living so close to where Cloudia’s relatives live. I just couldn’t do that – not after reading Villette…

Very early on, Townsend was to appear from the start of Arc 4. He was still the one who stole Queen Victoria’s super-secret box, but it would not have been so blatant. Instead, Townsend would aide Cloudia and Cedric and try to divert the investigation from himself. Cloudia was actually supposed to start liking Townsend (for some reasons), much to Cedric’s chagrin, but this particular aspect was so silly, I scrapped it all and rearranged it.

Originally, the last chapter (Mystery), the next chapter (Malady), and the one coming after it were one chapter. Please remind me to provide a word count for them when I have finished all three. What was I thinking…

Cloudia was lamenting about having apparently lost her family ring in the intermission chapter… Actually, I planned for Cedric to give her the ring in Faint and Low, wrote it into my outline, but I somehow forgot including it. Thankfully, I did not forget to make him return it to her in the intermission.

While working on the intermission, I thought about writing that Cedric and Milton met every now and then in the past year and became more acquainted with each other. Like, Cedric would come to Cloudia when she was extra busy, she would send him to town with Thomas, and they would run into Milton and Wentworth. But then, I finalised Milton’s story and decided that it would be better to say that he did not set foot into England since his villa was destroyed.

Milton and Cloudia met at a reception in 1846 because, years ago in English class, my teacher talked about how “receptions are little parties,” I jotted it down and thought “that might be a good place for their first meeting!” But, according to Wikipedia, “Formal receptions are parties that are designed to receive a large number of guests, often at prestigious venues [..]. The hosts and any guests of honor form a receiving line in order of precedence near the entrance. Each guest is announced to the host who greets each one in turn as he or she arrives. Each guest properly speaks little more than his name (if necessary) and a conventional greeting or congratulation to each person in the receiving line. In this way, the line of guests progresses steadily without unnecessary delay. After formally receiving each guest in this fashion, the hosts may mingle with the guests.” – which is not really what I had in mind back then. But I had already said that they met at a reception, so there was no going back.

 There will be a total of three side stories for this arc. The Poker Game was the first. The second will come sometime in the middle after certain pieces of information were revealed. The last will come right after the arc wrapped up.

“The Earl, Reckless” and “The Siblings, Partners” are actually the first two pieces in a little series of five stories about Vincent and Francis. I hope to get out the third next year!

There will be a few more stories about them, but they won’t belong to that collection because they won’t be very readable as “standalone” fics. One of them is the pirate story which was mentioned in the second zucchini bonus chapter.

 Names

Anaïs was always supposed to be a girl, but her name used to be Amable because it means “lovable” and I thought it’s such a cute name! Turned out it’s a boy’s name, so I changed it last-minute to Anaïs after the character from The Amazing World of Gumball.

Her aunt Sylviane was originally named Renée. I changed it because I remembered that “Renée” is the name of one of the musketeers in Barbie and The Three Musketeers, and I really dislike that movie.

Aurèle used to be named Gervais. But then, I named another character Gervais and forgot that I already had a character with the same name. Because I had worked more with the second Gervais in my head, I decided to rename the first one to Aurèle. At some point, I cut out the “final” Gervais (who was the original Clockmaker) though and replaced him with the current Clockmaker. So, there’s currently nobody with the name “Gervais” in the story…

I am actually quite lazy when it comes to picking names for any secondary characters. The names of the Dupont servants and most names of the inhabitants of Nanteuil-la-Forêt were generated with a random French name generator.

As I already said, I like naming characters after other fictional characters. I often base their personalities and stories on them as well. When I read a book or comic, or watched a movie or show which I did not like, I name and base characters who get killed, villain characters, annoying characters etc. after the characters from that book/comic/movie/show I did not like. For example, Maven, Manon, Axel, and Brenton were named and based on characters from Red Queen. Maven is, obviously, Maven. Manon is Mare, but her name is from Miraculous Ladybug because she was supposed to be the “puppeteer.” Axel Shade is named after Shade. (But his middle names are from The Infernal Devices which I do like.) Brenton is based on Cal. I chose the name “Von Brandt” because “Brand” means fire or blaze and Maven has fire powers in Red Queen. (-1/10 would not recommend that book.)

Nicer characters are, in turn, named after characters from media I liked. For example, Dahlia, Duke, Cas, the man Cas talked to in Duke’s tavern, and Lucas Renn are named/based after/on characters from A Darker Shade of Magic. Dahlia is Lila. Duke is Barron. Cas is Kell. The man he talked to is Ned. Lucas Renn is Alucard Emery (whose nickname is “Luc”).

 Characters

Milton is my least favourite character to write because he has no humorous bone in his body. (Almost) everyone else is joking around, but I simply cannot picture him doing the same. At least, he can talk in waterfalls like most others – even if it’s in a different way. (This does not mean that I dislike Milton as a character! It just makes his dialogue a bit more challenging because he’s always very kind and never sarcastic. He’s the kind of person who, if you were to stab them, would calmly and softly tell you that it’s fine and that they have no ill-feelings for you even though they are literally dying and you are just a random thug.)

His rain-induced-heartache-memory-return is based on a similar thing a friend of my father’s has. When I was little – like six or seven – he and his family were visiting us. It was raining, and he explained that he had a heart operation many years ago on a rainy day and now, every time it rains, his heart phantom-pains. For some reason, it stuck with me, and I eventually decided to give Milton the same condition.

Townsend was a Frenchman (“Nicodème Etienne Bellamy”) for a very short time period because I thought “The arc is set in France, shouldn’t it have a French villain?” But then, I realised that it made no sense why a Frenchman should steal the Queen’s super-secret box and changed it back.

I wrote two stories for a Kuro Advent Calendar in 2017: Waiting and Warming. They were only replacement ideas though: Waiting was the replacement for a little game I wanted to put together but did not have the time for in the end. Warming was the replacement for a clockwork/clockmaker/machinery fic which I could not make work at that time. The Clockmaker Cloudia is searching for is something of a “remnant” from that fic idea.

Actually, Kamden was supposed to be the fidgety one before I gave that trait to Milton.

Misc.

While Milton is someone who does not really hate anything or anyone, I think he would very much dislike the song “Love is an Open Door” if the fic was set in modern times.

Because my sister once asked why “I draw Cloudia with short hair when she has long hair”: I do not draw her with short hair. I draw her with barley curls and a chignon, but the chignon is never visible.

  Outtake – beginning of “The Countess, Once Again.”

The day Cloudia Phantomhive was to kill Ronan Parrish, she was tired – tired, bored, and wishing to be somewhere else.

She hadn’t slept well – she never slept well here – and her body both carved and dreaded more hours of sleep and rest. Cloudia had woken up far too early this morning and the dispute in her head had made her decide to stay awake and wait for the sun to rise – and in January, the sun was just as sleepy as she, but unlike her, it took its time to wake.

Not knowing what to do, Cloudia had taken the book she was reading from her bedside cabinet – The Chimes by Charles Dickens – but even though it was written by her favourite author, even though it was “just” a novella, she hadn’t been able to read more than a few pages. And so, until the sun rose and Lisa came, Cloudia spent her time staring into the darkness, the novella still in her hand. And when the sun had finally risen and Lisa had arrived, Cloudia nearly did not notice it; and when she was washing up and getting dressed, her head was still heavy and her body numb and she did not say a single word. Lisa did seem concerned, but Cloudia was thankful that she didn’t address it, that her concern was only shown in her gaze which Cloudia avoided.

Afterwards, Cloudia walked down the stairs to breakfast, the sun shining dimly through the ice-touched windows, and when she entered the parlour, Lisa in her wake and Newman opening the door for her, Oscar was already there.

Almost thirteen years ago, Cloudia’s father had died at the Phantomhive townhouse, and Cloudia herself had lost her memories. Since that day, Cloudia had never felt comfortable or safe or free inside the townhouse again – considering that she had ever felt like that here –, and because she was always sent back to that day whenever something triggered her – and this was even more likely at the townhouse – Eleanor and Barrington had decided that, even if she had Newman and Lisa with her, Cloudia was not to stay at the townhouse without another person. As both Barrington and Cecelia were busy and Oscar had helped her finding out about Parrish, although this “case” had been fairly clear from the very beginning, Oscar was staying with her.

“Good morning, Oscar,” Cloudia greeted him while sitting down, her own voice sounding odd to her.

“Good morning, Mylady,” he said, waiting for her to break her scone in half before he sunk his fork into his cake.

“Cake for breakfast again?” Cloudia remarked, but, instead of directly responding to her words, all Oscar said was, “Mylady, you should make sure to sleep more. Or, at all. It is not good for your health if you keep refraining from sleeping, even if it is the townhouse.”

Cloudia nodded absentmindedly and put cream on her scone. “I will when Parrish is dead and I can return to the manor,” she said, but Oscar did not reply and only ate in silence.

[bloodpacks-archive]

New Year’s Day

Word Count: 3.4k yikes

Summary: A relationship over the span of three new year’s days. They get lost, and then they find their way back together.

Warnings: okay well Tom gets sad for a bit and there’s swearing but basically that’s it! Also there’s like two seconds of Christmas in this I hope u enjoy

Note: okay admittedly I’m a bit on the fence about this one?? idk, we’ll see how it goes. Also!! This is my prompt for @irndad ‘s writing challenge!! I had the prompt New Year’s Kiss so. u can imagine. Hope you enjoy! (also this gif has nothing to do with the fic but he’s so CUTE) 

Dec 8th, 2017

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” She says, her voice riddled with laughter. Mistletoe hangs above them, her hands are laced behind Tom’s neck, and Tom’s trying to stop smiling so damn brightly.

“Maybe,” He replies. She laughs again, gorgeous and bright, her head falling forward and her forehead resting on his chest. She kisses him that day, laughter following her as she leaves him standing under the mistletoe. He watches her go, his face painted with a smile.

He’s beyond lucky to have her in his life, he realizes. She’s one of the best people he’s ever met, and he loves being able to hear her laugh from somewhere in their apartment.

“Tom? You coming? We’re gonna be late!” She calls from the other room. Tom takes a moment to stumble his way out of his thoughts, and then he’s rushing after her, pulling on a coat as he locks their door behind them.

“We won’t be late,” He replies, but then he’s pulling her by her hand to rush out into the cold air. They arrive at dinner five minutes late.

Dec 10th, 2017

It’s a Sunday evening. She’s curled into his side, a book propped up against one of her legs. Tessa’s managed to stretch her way across both of them, and Tom scratches behind her ears while he scrolls through his phone. There’s soft Christmas music playing, and there’s a dusting of snow coating London. She leans her head back against his shoulder, looking up from her book for a moment so she can see him.

“Tom?” She says, her voice light, and so gorgeous. Tom hums in reply, looking down at her with a look that he can only assume is filled with the brightest of love. “I love you.” Tom lets a breathy laugh fall past his lips, bringing one of his hands to hers as he rubs soft patterns into her skin.

“I love you too.” She smiles at that, bringing their intertwined hands up to her lips and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. She then settles back into Tom’s side, her attention once again turned to her book. He watches her for a moment more, letting himself save every second of what’s in front of him. Then he turns back to his phone, reading through an email that he finds much less intriguing than the girl next to him.

Dec 16th, 2017

She’s sitting on the stool in front of him, her head in her hands. She’s messing with her hair, and Tom’s standing on the other side of the island, tempted to reach out and grab one of her hands. He doesn’t like that she feels helpless.

“But you just got back,” She whispers. Her voice breaks, and Tom can practically feel it. She takes her hands away from her face, looking up at him and waiting for anything, any kind of reaction from him.

“I- I know, love, and I’ll be here for the rest of the holidays, but I have to leave on January 4th to finish up press.” Tom looks at her, eyes begging her to understand. He hates that he leaves her like this, that she has to stay in their apartment alone, watching from worlds away.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” She asks. Her eyebrows are furrowed, creating little wrinkles on her forehead that he so badly wants to smooth out.

“Just two weeks,” Tom replies. She laughs, humorless and a bit cold.

“Just two weeks,” She repeats.

It isn’t the first, or the last time they’ll have this fight.

Dec 25th, 2017

When he wakes up, her side of the bed is empty, but he can hear her humming in the kitchen. He walks in to see her with a tray of food and a pot of tea. She looks up to see him, smiling in the doorway, and she does an adorable little gasp.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake yet! Go back to bed!” She runs over to him, pushing Tom out of the kitchen and towards their room. Tom’s laughing the entire time, and he turns around just as they reach their bedroom door.

“You didn’t have to do this all for me,” He says. She shakes her head at him.

“Oh shut up, it’s Christmas!” That morning, they sit in bed, eating breakfast and laughing together.

Dec 28th, 2017

They’re in their living room, there’s tears in her eyes as she walks back and forth. Tom stands in front of her, watching as she paces. He doesn’t have that same feeling of heartbreak as he did a few days ago.

“I don’t know, it’s just that, sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to have someone who didn’t leave every few weeks,” She says, finally stilling to stand in front of him. It’s then when the heartbreak sets in.

“What?” Tom asks, breathless. He’s got his arms crossed, and now she’s looking up at the ceiling, taking a breath before everything spills out.

“It’s hard, Tom.” Her voice cracks. “It’s so fucking hard, because I just want to be able to support you and be there for you but God, it’s hard when you’re so far away.” Tom stares at her, he can feel his heart stop, there’s a pit in his stomach.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, y/n,” Tom replies. At some point, any anger had faded away, and now Tom’s got his fingers nervously creating patterns into his own skin, when they so badly want to trace patterns into hers.

“It’s just-“ She stops for a moment, gathering her thoughts, “sometimes, it feels like you’re so far away, and sometimes, it feels like I’m alone and like I don’t have anyone here to help me.” Tom stays silent, watching as she runs her hands through her hair. He feels like everything is spiraling around him and he doesn’t know how to stop anything.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” He says.

“I don’t know either, Tom,” Her voice has gone soft, almost a whisper. She takes a breath, “Maybe I need a break from all of this.”

Tom feels himself shatter.

Dec 29th, 2017

She leaves him that evening, snow fresh on the ground, and Tessa whining behind him. She places her keys into the palm of his hand, and when he looks up to meet her eyes, there’s tears behind them.

“I’m sorry,” She says. Tom can’t bring himself to say anything. He can feel the lump at the back of his throat. He wants to scream. Before he can really process what’s happening, she’s gone.

Dec 31st, 2017

He can’t bring himself to go to Harrison’s party, despite having promised to be there. Instead, Tom finds himself sitting on his couch, Tessa’s head resting in his lap. The apartment feels a lot emptier without her. He takes down the mistletoe.

Jan 1st, 2018

He starts the new year alone, something that he hasn’t felt in a while. He keeps finding pieces of her around the apartment, he doesn’t get rid of the picture of her beside his bed, or the blanket that she gave him for Christmas. He just curls up, trying to feel any bit of warmth that he’s lost.

Jan 3rd, 2018

Tom leaves for press that day. He tries not to think of how different the airport would have been with her there. Tries not to think about how she would’ve kissed him goodbye, how she would’ve hugged him as tightly as she could, burying her face into his neck just before security. He would’ve turned back to look at her, giving her a final smile before walking out of her line of sight. He doesn’t have anyone to turn back to that day.

Jan 17th, 2018

Tom’s beyond tired from the press tour, but nothing seems to make it go away. He comes home to a silent apartment, left untouched during his two weeks away. He lays down on the couch. He notices how cold it is.

Feb 12th, 2018

Their “break” still hasn’t ended. Tom starts to wonder if she’ll ever come back to him.

Mar 22nd, 2018

Harrison comes over, and the apartment is lively, filled with laughter, and the air seems much warmer. The sun seems a bit brighter that day, as dumb as it sounds. They watch reruns of shows that they both love, and Tom feels a bit less lonely.

May 13th, 2018

Tom’s busy with work, he doesn’t really have time to think much. It’s been months, and he’d though that he’d be doing much better by now. He is, if he really thinks about it, but the apartment still feels empty in a way that he can’t quite explain. He’s not even sure if he’s lonely as much as he just misses having things to do all the time. He decides that being this busy with work is good for him.

Nov 12th, 2018

The holidays are getting dangerously close. Tom can feel a pit in his stomach at every mention of mistletoe, and he hates the way he gets when he thinks of her. He hadn’t thought of her in a while, actually, but now she’s with him at every turn. He thinks of her humming while she makes herself tea, or the feeling of her head resting on his shoulder. He misses that feeling of warmth more than anything. Misses the way his cheeks would hurt from smiling whenever he was around her.

Dec 5th, 2018

He stumbles onto her Instagram page. The posts are few and far between, all of her with friends, and he hates that he’s like this. After almost a year, he’s still drawn to her, still wishing that he could wake up to her by his side again. Sometimes he thinks that he hears her laugh somewhere in the apartment, or that he can hear her singing some Christmas song. He didn’t think he missed her like this anymore.

Dec 31st, 2018 - 6:00 PM

Tom walks into the party with Harrison’s arm around his shoulders. He’s cheerfully leading him to the kitchen, already talking about what kind of drink he’s planning on making him. Tom has to hold back laughter, already feeling everything lighten up around him. This was the party that he had missed last year, the one that he had exchanged for sitting alone on his couch, wondering where he went wrong, and why it all happened so quickly.

Before he knows it, Harrison’s handing him a drink and continuing to lead him around the party. Really, Tom has a great time. Harrison’s by his side for most of it, both of them laughing along to whatever story their friends tell. He’s beyond glad to be here, to be able to start the new year with people that he loves surrounding him.

Tom’s talking to a few old friends from school when hears it. A laugh, one that he could pick out anywhere. He looks over to Harrison, eyebrows furrowed, but Harrison just gives him a confused look in return. Tom looks over to where the noise came from and he can feel his heartbeat in his chest. His eyes scan the groups of people in front of him, and then he sees her. Her hair’s hanging around her face, a red cup in her hand, she’s got this gorgeous smile on her face, and he sees her laugh this time. It’s the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while.

She turns, and then her eyes lock with his. There’s a moment where everything within him feels broken, like he’s back in their apartment with her keys in the palm of his hand, where she’s walking out with a low-hanging head and down turned eyes. But he’s here, in this goddamn New Year’s party, with her looking at him for the first time in a whole year. He smiles at her, and then turns back to the conversation in front of him.

Dec 31st, 2018 - 11:00 PM

Tom’s sitting out on the balcony at this point. Harrison’s somewhere out in the party, most likely flirting with a girl or laughing with old friends. The balcony is cold, but Tom doesn’t really mind. It’s quiet, and the soft snow falling to the ground offers some kind of odd comfort. There’s a light dusting of snow on the top of the railing, and Tom’s finding himself making little patterns in it.

Tom hears the door behind him open, but doesn’t bother to look behind him, figuring that it’s just someone who wants to get out of the noise for a moment as well.

“You’re going to freeze out here without a coat.” Tom pauses, not even daring to look back at her in fear that she’ll disappear if he does. But then he feels her laying a coat around his shoulders, and everything feels a bit more like home. At the feeling of her fingers brushing his shoulders, he looks back.

“Thanks,” He says, pulling the coat closer around him. He looks down at it, realizing that it’s his before he decides to pull it on completely.

“Harrison told me which one was yours,” She explains. She’s taken a step back from him, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets and her eyes turned to the ground. Tom lets out a breathy laugh, turning back to the city in front of him.

“Glad you’re both looking out for me.” He hears her shoes hit against the balcony floor, and then she’s leaning next to him, looking down at the city with him. She keeps a distance between them that he wishes would disappear, but he can still feel his heart breaking with every step she takes towards him. He’s terrified to let her in again.

“How’s your year been?” She asks. Her voice is light, almost tip-toeing around him. Tom’s laugh is humorless, almost more of a sigh than anything.

“It’s been shit.” She looks over at him, concern clear in her eyes. He glances over at her, watching as she shifts uncomfortably. He feels his heart sink, deciding that he hates how all of this is. He hates that he can’t even talk to her without feeling like everything is going to break. “What about you?” His voice is a bit lighter, trying to make up for the uncomfortable air that he caused.

“Pretty shit too, if I’m honest,” She replies. Tom laughs a bit, and she smiles up at him when she hears him.

“I’ve missed this,” Tom whispers. He’s not even entirely sure he’s said it, but when she looks up at him, eyes bright and the beginnings of a smile on her face, he’s sure of it.

“I missed this too,” She replies, matching his tone of voice. Tom smiles, shaking his head a bit at her.

“You could’ve called, y’know.”

“Didn’t know if you’d want me back.” Her voice is quiet, and then she’s playing with her hair, and he wants to grab her hand again, trace those patterns into her skin, make her feel comfortable again.

“I always wanted you back,” He whispers. When she looks up at him, her smile is weak, her eyes begging for something that he can’t decipher.

“Don’t know why you would.”

“There’s more reasons than I can count.” Her laugh is barely there, just a shake of her head and the softest sound he’s heard in a while.

“I should’ve been there for you.” He can hear her voice break, and he wants to wrap her in his arms, never let her go because yes, maybe she messed up, but he did too.

“You needed a break,” He replies. “Hell, I need a break from my life sometimes.” She laughs again, and this time her head just barely touches his shoulder. He thinks it’s the best thing he’s felt in a while.

“You still needed that support, and I didn’t always give that to you,” She says. Tom shakes his head.

“Maybe you didn’t, but it wasn’t your job. I should’ve supported you more, too. We both made mistakes,” Tom says. It’s then when she leans her head on his shoulder fully, and he wants nothing more than to let her stay there forever.

“I don’t know-” She starts, but Tom cuts her off.

“Tell you what, maybe we can talk all of this out over coffee tomorrow? Like that place down the road that you always loved or something?” Tom asks. He can feel the smile cross her face, and just about everything in him feels a bit warmer.

“That sounds great,” She replies. Distantly, they can hear a countdown beginning. Tom laughs.

“Have we really been out here for an hour?”

“I guess we have,” She says. Her voice is back to the one that he loves, and he’s beyond glad to have her back next to him. Yelling comes from inside the apartment, and she’s laughing into his shoulder.

Jan 1st, 2019

He starts the New Year with her laughter filling his ears, and her head on his shoulder.

Jan 13th, 2019

He kisses her again for the first time in a year.

Feb 24th, 2019

He FaceTimes her every night of his press tour. She falls asleep while on the phone with him, he doesn’t mind.

Apr 17th, 2019

He wakes up to the sound of her humming in the kitchen again.

Aug 29th, 2019

She comes with him to New York City. He takes pictures of her around the city. They turn into his lockscreen. There’s a picture of him that hangs around her neck.

Dec 2nd, 2019

“Again?” She asks, looking up at the mistletoe.

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you keep standing with me under mistletoe.” Tom looks up at the decoration above them, shrugging his shoulders at her as she rolls her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” Tom laughs, watching as she goes to walk away. Tom chases after her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her cheek before burying his face in the crook of her neck. She laughs, turning around in his arms to look at him.

“You’re the worst, Tom,” She says between bits of laughter. Tom smiles down at her, shrugging his shoulders again. She shakes her head, but then she leans up and presses a kiss to his lips, and it makes up for all of it.

Dec 25th, 2019

Tom sneaks out of bed in the morning to make her breakfast, she glares at him when she finds out that he stole her plan.

Dec 31st, 2019 - 11:50 PM

“So, what’d you think of this year?” She asks him. Her hands are laced behind his neck, and she’s looking up at him with the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. His cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling all night, but he’s beyond glad to be here, with her in his arms.

“I don’t know, it was pretty shit,” Tom replies with a smirk on his face. She rolls her eyes at him, unlacing her hands from behind his neck.

“Oh really? Well, maybe I should just take my things and-“

“No no no no,” Tom says, cutting her off. He grabs her hands, and she places them behind his neck again. She laughs at him, letting her forehead rest against his chest. It’s only a few moments later when the countdown begins around them, and Tom takes a second, because this is so much better than last year, so much better than any year he’s had yet. She has her arms wrapped around him, looking up at him with gorgeous eyes and a bright smile. He’s certain that nothing could make life better than this, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Jan 1st, 2020

She leans up, pressing her lips to his for the moment when the countdown ends. There’s yelling around them, a chorus for the new year, but Tom’s oblivious to all of it.

“Happy New Year,” He whispers. Tom practically melts at the sight of her in front of him, and he can’t wait to have moments like these be part of every new year that awaits him. She laughs, tilting her head to the side and letting her eyes scan over his face.

“Happy New Year.”

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[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures - Episode 3, “Party’s Pursuit”

This time a recap with art! Following the swift battle in the cave from episode two, the party had returned back to town to recuperate, stock up on supplies and acquire transport South-Westward. And not necessarily in that particular order.

The party split up early on with Burk deciding to stay out of town for a good 20 minutes, for his own reasons, eating a beef ball that Belli had offered him in the meantime of his stay outside.

The rest soon seperated by accident, in the Market corner, or should I say, Market center. Shenanigans ensue as Mournimar goes in hot pursuit of a wandering Belli and the two have a comedic hugging out, with tears aplenty.

All the while, Luck and Amelia get down to business in the potions shop.  “Peppery Pete’s Pile of Potions”, run by an eccentric and crazy eyed gnome of the same name. Comedic conversation ensues as Luck learns of the potions, from the basic health potions to Peter’s own concoctions.:

A green potion, called “Bable’s tiple”, which allows it’s user to speak 3 seperate languages they don’t know; (Luck bought that one, alongside 3 medium restoration potions and 2 minor ones);

A Hot pink Potion for bedroom enhancements (Luck took the potion as litterally helping people get sleep and will probably buy one next time, lol);

A Milky potion, which gave it’s drinker feathers;

Bright Neon Orange one, allowing someone to grow a beard (suggested by Peter, seeing as Luck’s got a baby smooth face);

A potion dubbed “Wizard’s Folly”, which enhances wisdom and intelligence (SERIOUSLY SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT THAT ONE. Luck and MarMar are 8 Wisdom each with a -1 modifier)

And last, but not least. A black potion. It was cola. One day he will get a chance to have it. One daaay!

Before leaving, Luck asked about “The Traveling Gentlemen” and was pointed to the city of Victrum. Something that soured the young fighter’s day, but gave him hope, in a way.

OH! Way before they got to the shop, Amelia got “Art Thou Nasty” pants. A lot of laughs were had.

The party reconvened in the center of the market, after Burk had gone to the local Temple and asked about the afterlife (he was not amused by the answer he got, regarding which deity supported revenge.)

Once together, the party collected a monetary prize from the captain of the guard for their recent freelancer work of taking otu the local cultists. Belli gave the captain a hug. She knows all the guards. Belli is so pure. We stan (1) funky Half-Orc Bard.

After this, the party returned to the tavern from the first session and they each got a room and slept to varying results. Belli had annoyed Burk by playing well into midnight on her kazoo and the two got in a tug of war over it. Burk accidentally broke it 8( (don’t worry, there may be hope for it yet!)

Burk and Amelia switched rooms after this incident.

The following day, thanks to a tip from one of the guards, the party got a carriage with two war horses on a low price (Luck failed to persuade to lower the price by reminding the man at the stables that they saved his sister-in-law). and they took off with their new horses, Kevin and Killiyon.

First day was uneventful, on the second they reached a body of water and had a short beach episode, weirding out local fishermen. Day 3 Belli got tricked into bying a fake magic ring from the daughter of a farmer (even after Mournimar did a Arcana check on the ring, so apparently the daughter has magic, herself), who she now has a crush on. (SHE WILL MAKE A HONEST WOMAN OUT OF HER, ONE DAY!) And late, on the 4th day, the party reached Victrum.

Carriage in the stables, the 5 of them went to the fun tavern (one of four pointed to them by the local guards) “The Merry Flutist”. An tavern with live music!

Belli, Burk and Amelia stayed there and did their own thing, while Luck left in a hurry, not finding anyone familiar to him there. Mournimar followed him to the Adventuers and Warriors’ tavern, “The Silver Hammer Inn”. Where if you tell a good adventuring story, you get free drinks.

Belli and Amelia flirted with the half-elven bartender named “Nelatha”, who becomes suspicious of Belli as she is familiar with Belli’s parents, who went “missing”.

Belli went on to perform on stage. Burk looked for a tiefling bard, to no aveil and Amelia scored fun times with Nelatha.

All the while Mournimar and Luck met the bartender of the Adventurers’ tavern and got into his good graces via the story of their recent adventure. The Half-Orc Gorruk poured the boys a drink of their choice. Mournimar flirted with Gorruck. (THERE WAS SO MUCH FLIRTING THIS EPISODE AND I LIVE FOR THIS).

Then, after Luck had a swig of his whiskey, he asked about the party “The Traveling Gentlemen”. Gorruck told him of their recent activity, heading South-West towards Menun, going after “The Forestheart Bretheren”, whom Gorruck refers to as a bunch of “hippies”. Rangers and Druids.

Luck finished his drink by that point, gave a piece of platinum and left.

Mournimar learned from Gorruck a bit more. That one of them was now able to fly. Also learned of a prison near a swampland, before leaving to look for Luck.

Not able to find him. Poor Mournimar is like that one parent that needs to put leashes on their kids/party members.

He goes to the tavern, where the others were.

Burk had gone to the stables, after having eaten a good meal. Amelia flirted with Nelatha and Belli did a kickass stagedive with a Magehand landing.

Gathering the girls, and riding on Belli’s shoulders, the trio go to find Luck, leaning against a wall, brooding. Luck manages to bluff his way out of explaining his reason for storming out after he learned about the Traveling Gentlemen and the party returns to the tavern.

Burk gets some brewing supplies and makes some good alcohol (I think it was ale, though he wanted to make moonshine).

The girls and Mournimar sleep in the tavern, while Burk sleeps in hay in the stables. Luck covers him with his jacket, before falling asleep in the carriage, after writing an update in his journal.

The following day, Belli gets a new kazoo, Amelia tanks a hangover and gets to spend some GoodTimes >;) with Nelatha.

While this is going on, Mournimar visits Gorruck again and learns more about the Traveling Gentlemen.

They had recently lost a member.

There was no combat, this session. But a lot of good character building moments for the party, relationships and party dynamic developing well and revealing places to grow. It was the best. I suspect next episode we’ll compensate for the lack of battle.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[motogpfanpage]

ROUND 14: ARAGON

Last round in Europe before the huge month of flyaways, Aragon marks a turning point in the season as Marc Marquez gets closer to clinching another World Title.

1) Captain Marquez

On thursday Marc Marquez stated he still had the title in mind, even though his lead is already huge, and would be willing to lose 5 or 10 points to his opponents.

On saturday he went even further into this state of mind saying a top 5 would be his goal after failing to take pole position against fellow spaniard and future teammate Jorge Lorenzo.

Once sunday came, and after a good night sleep, gone was the careful Marquez and back was the crazy beast: “ I got up this morning I say okay, I want to take a risk today ”. And many risks he took indeed running wide and taking Lorenzo with him at turn 1, fighting on and on with Dovizioso, giving back every attack, switching places multiple times in one lap and finally pushing for the win in the final laps to escape the Desmo’s power in the straights.

Marquez believe the reason behind his race win at Aragon was a tire gamble he decided to take. Supposed to race the hard once again, the spaniard went against all odds and favored the soft as he believed he would be his only chance against the Ducatis: “ In the warm-up I didn't feel well but I pushed, I crashed and then I start to think why I crash. Then we speak together with Santi [Hernandez, crew chief], with my technician and I say to him 'I want the soft rear'. Then started a big meeting, discussions inside the team, with HRC because I did not try that soft tyre in the afternoon in hot temperature but I say I believe on this one, I can manage. Another thing is, was the only chance to fight against Dovi because with the hard I felt good but for my riding style was not working in a good way, especially on the entry. ”

Aragon GP win helped Marc increasing his lead advantage and even though he cannot win the title next time out in Thailand, his first match point will come right after at Motegi.

2) Two side of the same coin

The Aragon GP may have been won by Marquez and Suzuki may have got a podium but the image of the weekend certainly was Jorge Lorenzo’s monstruous highside at the first corner right after the start of the race.

An horrific incident leaving the spaniard with a dislocated a toe and fractured second metatarsal on his right foot. After being checked by the clinica on Sunday, and again in Barcelona on Monday, Lorenzo’s participation to the Thai GP is all but certain. Forced in resting his leg and foot for at least the 10 coming days, the spaniard will be checked again by the medicals later this week to see how the situation is evolving and if he could be fit enough to take part to the next grand prix in Thailand. 

Lorenzo’s foot might be hurting but so is his tongue. On sunday night the spaniard put some of the blame for his crash on future teammate Marc Marquez’ lines and block pass at turn 1: “From the outside, [it looked like] I entered too fast, I lean too much and I entered too wide in the dirty part, that's why I crashed. From what I lived, what I experienced, I entered in the normal line, entered the corner as I did in the seven last years here in Aragon, but I watched Marc go into the inside, very aggressive, not making the corner because you saw where he finished, in the green [paint on the outside]. And when he saw that I was there, he tried not to let me pass into the corner, and I didn't have any options [but] to go to the dirty part. Because we were very wide and already the other riders were coming, if I didn't want to lose five or six positions, I had to open the throttle.“In Misano [last time out] the crash was completely my fault, this time Marc destroyed my race, destroyed my foot, destroyed also the big possibility that I have to win and probably also [the] Thailand race.”

Lorenzo’s words were greeted with many criticizes, most people thinking it could only be his ego speaking and blaming Marquez for a mistake he did on his own. Body language though doesn’t lie and watching MotoGP dot Com’s video clip of JL’s post race debrief only shows someone who genuinely believe what he is saying. 

Is Marquez to blame ? Is Lorenzo to blame ? Is it 50/50 ? Everybody will have their own opinion on the matters but reporters can put their clickbait headline about the “Dream Team Already Fighting” to rest as both Lorenzo and Marquez went on to show what Gentlemen are made of.

On Monday night, the oldest spaniard made a twitter thread explaining his view of the incident with a more calm and resting head. He then added: “This is my version, But I want to inform you that this afternoon I received a call from Marquez checking on me, which honors him.”  

Something to which Marc Marquez replied: “Get well soon! We will see each other in Thailand”.

They might not always agree and they will definitely have moment of fight next year at Honda, but when you have respect for one another, it makes everything else easier. Even the reconciliation of two great champions. 

3) Best of the rest

Failing to stop Marquez from winning his home GP, Dovizioso was pretty happy with the result anyway once in the parc fermé on Sunday. The Ducati, clearly shaping into the best bike on the grid, is so good that even Marc Marquez’ riding skills needs helps from a few tricks and gambles to win: “In Misano it was very important, but here even more because this confirms our improvement, and this improvement is the reality but is even better for the future. This is the way I want to look at the weekend, Because we come here with a lot of confidence from the [other] competitors, they thought we could win easy the race. But it's never like this, and I'm so happy how much we improved from last year – this is the point. Unfortunately we couldn't win, we try until the last lap, but we have to study and analyse the reality, and the reality is we did a good step – a huge step.”

With Jorge Lorenzo and Crutchlow out of the race and Yamaha struggling at the back, Iannone, Rins and Pedrosa decided to give everybody a quick reminder of just what they capable of.

Showing a fairly good pace all weekend, Andrea Iannone was the revelation of Sunday’s race. The maniac, more used to playing bowling with other riders when fighting with them was the cleanest we’ve seen of him in a long time. Sharp but never on the edge, the italian gave his everything and never let a mistake made by the leader being unnoticed. After sandwiching Marc Marquez with Dovizioso though, Iannone realized he could keep up with the Honda and Ducati and settled for 3rd: “It was a really great race for us and in many cases, a real battle because first of all, I fight a lot with my tyres, especially with the rear because it is really important to manage for all the race. During the practice we worked in a good direction with the used tyres and in the race I tried to not push a lot and push the bike on the side, and I think this is a really good strategy. At the end, the last five or six laps I started to recover the gap a little bit. The Honda and Ducati are more faster than us on the straight and I think this is the negative point for the race of today, but it was a good race.”

Behind him his teammate, Alex Rins, was struggling to keep his older teammate’s pace but not for lack of trying. In the end he was 4th and very happy to bring home a good result: “I’m really happy, I think we passed these expectations that we made yesterday. Mostly during all the race I was riding very comfortable with the first group. But then when there were twelve laps to go I started to feel something strange on the front. Since the beginning I believed in Suzuki, I was saying we had a competitive bike, no? In some races we’ve been a little bit at the back, for the setting or I don’t know what. But for sure our bike is very competitive and very good. Sure, we need to improve a little bit in the top speed and the small things, but I’m very happy with my bike.”

A little further back, Pedrosa almost looked like his older self riding with perfect line in a way only him can. Getting the benefits of a few new pieces given to him from Honda after asking for them since Jerez, the spaniard had what seemed to be his best shot at a podium since the start of the season. A 5th place isn’t was he was hoping for but soon enough will came Sepang and we know just how strong the little samurai can be there: “I think today in the race everything was quite well, we were able to start with the front group and i was able to do some passing, but unfortunately the hard rear had no grip. I was unable to carry the corner speed and the acceleration out of the turns with the hard, and that make me lose a bit of the gap per lap that I was unable to stay in the [lead] group.“I think with a little better grip in the rear I was able today to be in the podium or fight for the victory.”

4) Debacle and Disaster

If you thought the Austrian GP was a disaster for Yamaha then the Aragon GP was purgatory. At a track where former Yamaha rider Jorge Lorenzo used to make it onto the podium, the Rossi and Vinales duo barely made it into the top 10 after both qualifying way too far on the grid for a factory team.

If Marquez changed his mind from Saturday to Sunday, the same happened to Vinales. Not on the pace, in Q1 and struggling to get into Q2, the spaniard was penalized with a 3 places on the grid penalty for cruising on the racing line while Bradley Smith was on a hot lap. On saturday night he tweeted “we’re still motivated”.

On sunday and after a disastrous race result, there was no motovation left for box 25. Still not getting any better at race start the spaniard struggled to get closer to the top 10: “We have lost all our objectives, we don't know what to aim for. The feeling on the bike is very bad. Now we have the Asian tour and I just hope to get it over with fast. Zero motivation, zero expectations. For me it is the worst race I've done in Yamaha, and the worst time on the bike, when the feeling was worst on the bike. I can't tell really the precise problem because every area was working bad, was not even one area that was okay. I was comparing myself with non-factory bikes and they were even better than me.”

Side 46 of the box wasn’t partying either. For the first time in i don’t know how many year (if it even ever happened before) we got ourselves a VR46 waiting for a tow during Q1 saying there was no way he could have had the pace for Q2 alone.

Failing to find one, the doctor qualified at a very anonymous 17th place on the grid. Only his sunday racer skills would help him get into the top 10 and beyond.

It is now 23 races since Yamaha last one a race and even though anything can happen during the flyaways one could think everybody should prepare themselves for a year without any yamaha win: “I started very much behind, but I could keep a constant pace for the race and I can take some points, I can make the top 10, that yesterday I wasn’t sure [I could do]. It’s like this, this is our potential now. We hope to improve.”

Both sides of the box are hoping to see the light at the end of a very dark tunel, if only heads in japan would start doing something to solve a problem Rossi believe will not go away even with the 2019 engines: “I hope it’s important for Yamaha to react.“Maybe some top guys see the number, and somebody asks: ‘Why?’ ”

5) Honorable mentions

Aleix Espargaro’s 6th place in the race with the Aprilia felt nothing less than a win!

Danilo Petrucci in 7th continues to be a disappointment. 

Zarco cannot do better than 14th which comes as no surprise when even the factory riders struggles to be in the top 10.

Pol Espargaro’s was forced out of the race weekend due to a crash when he was just coming back from a severe injury. 

It was nice having Jordi Torres back in the paddock. The famously #kneedown rider made a respectable job out of a great opportunity replacing Tito. 

[notnaturalanahi]

What Kinda Lame Name For a Demon is Dean?

Characters: 1st person Gender neutra!lReader, Demon!Dean, nameless Demon, OC’s (also unnamed). It can be a Demon!Dean x Reader if you want to.

Wc: 3167 (consider this a long drabble)

Warnings: Foul language, drinking, violence, blood, death (minor character), loose ends and loopholes, open ending. 

[This is a crack fic, don’t lose sleep over it]

Summary: I decide to stop  for a drink on my way home and it’s defenitely not what I expected for a wednesday night.

A/N: This piece is my entry for @evansrogerskitten Ash’s Hottest Dean Challenge my prompt is bolded in the text and there’s also a gif. I have so much writing this one. It was supposed to be a drabble of this scene that popped into my mind, but it turned out into this cracky/action thing. 

Unbetad, brace yoourselves for mistakes.

Check out my Masterlist - Also you can Join my TAGlist - Or Talk to me, gimme some feedback

Whatever, love you. bye!

The weather’s chilly and drizzly tonight, from where I’m sitting at the counter I have the perfect view of the dark night and the empty street outside. Well, empty with the exception of the occasional car that rolls by with the windshield wipers mid speed or the passerby covered head to toe and carrying an umbrella or a few street dogs… Okay, maybe not that empty. Anyway,  since I forgot my umbrella and only realized it after I got off work I decided to make a stop when I saw the bar down the street from my office was open. This first half of the week had been dreadful, so I deserve a drink to cut short the week.

Staring at my drink in hand I reconsider my previous plans. I made the decision as I walked into the establishment that I would only have two drinks, but now as I contemplate the last of the 2nd one I find my mouth itching for more, maybe just a 3rd or even a 4th after that one… I know I shouldn’t, I have an early morning tomorrow and I should be at home right now finishing with the retouches of my thesis. It’s been a long way but I think after the professor’s last corrections it’s gonna be perfect… so yeah, I’m going home.

A sudden chill runs down my spine, as if a cold breeze hit my skin or someone breathed right behind my back, twisting my neck I see noone. The front door remains closed, a big clock above it telling me it’s 8:45pm. Taking in my surrounding for the first time since I walked in 30 minutes ago I see the bar is almost deserted. To my left, a happy looking couple, too immersed in their own conversation, looking super cute together, sitting on the same side of the booth. To the right a drunkard nursing on his beer, eyes looking beyond anything, right into the astral plane. Also somewhere around the back is the bartender, a middle-age guy who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Sighing I look up and notice the amount of dirt in my glasses, I’ve lost count of how many times a day I had to wipe them today, I snatch a paper napkin from the metallic holder while removing them from my face and proceed to carefully rub the lenses. Once I finish I put them back on. Why can I just not wear glasses, what’s the meaning of having eyes if they’re not gonna work properly?

Ugh, the story of my life.

I shiver again and take it as a cue, in one semi-large chug I throw back the rest of my vodka, grimacing at the scolding sensation traveling down my esophagus and I know I’m gonna regret that in five minutes or less, my stomach’s not gonna let me forget about it. Immediately I fish onto my bag for my ever evanescent wallet. When I find it, I pull a big enough bill to cover for both my drinks and a very, very modest tip -sorry to the bartender but as student/trainee I don’t have much to spare-. And slide the sleeves of my jacket over my arms, followed by the strap of the crossbody bag before jumping off the barstool.

Apparently my eyes were closed or maybe I’ve fallen asleep while moving; I don’t know I’m tired, it’s been a long day, because I only notice the tall man standing right next to me when my face collides with the solid, yet tender wall of muscles that is his wide chest. I open my eyes.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Almost like you appeared outta nowhe-” I can’t help it, I look up adjusting my glasses already fuming at the back of my head cause I will have to wipe them again and my words cut short, I swallow the rest of my apology down. At the end of broad shoulders and resting above a thick neck I find an extremely handsome face. Jawline for days, covered with sexy scruff. Plump lips -cocksure smirk- slightly crooked nose, deep, deep green/ hazel eyes that stare down at me and all of that served with a side of freckles dusted all over.

So hot, I hate him.

He just stares, smug smile and wrinkly eyes. He’s wearing more layers than a normal person needs tonight -it’s not that cold- and his hair is combed to the side.

“Leaving already?” obviously he ignores my apology.  

I blink the salacious thoughts away and focus on his piercing gaze “It’s late,” I explain plain and simple.

I attempt to sidestep him but apparently somewhere in the middle our four words conversation he laid an arm on the back of my old chair, successfully trapping me between himself and the unmovable counter.  I look back up and of course the mother fucker knows what he’s doing, a mischievous glimpse sparkles in his eyes.

I sigh, dramatically.

“Look I’m flattered. A tall, hot guy like you coming up to me. But hooking up is not why I’m in here tonight. So I dunno. Maybe we can exchange numbers, you know… get a raincheck. You can call me on the weekend? Tonight I have plenty to do, and unfortunately you’re not on the list.” I know he hasn’t say anything and I’m rambling a little. But certainly I don’t give a shit. Perhaps I did some time ago but at this point in my life, I don’t anymore.

He chuckles. A hand comes up and I still myself because I have no idea what’s so funny or what his intentions are. Thick and long fingers -I gulp at the sight- pass through his mane, pushing it all back and I think he looks even better that way than styled to the side.

“What?” I ask while trying to push his arm off the metallic bar at the back of the stool, realizing how solid it is, pure fucking muscle. My hand pulls at it but nothing happens.

“Dollface, I’m not here to flirt and sleep with you,” he states, “although I wouldn’t say no to you,” he adds giving me a once over and throwing a chin shrug to the mix.

When he stops talking my eyes shoot up, no longer entertained with the way my fingers look hooked around his forearm, or how the tips don’t touch each other as I wrap them around his wrist. With a coked eyebrow I demand to know what he means.

“I’m here to kill you,” he simply says, like it’s nothing.

I back away a little and snort at his joke. It’s gotta be a joke right… Who comes up to someone they don’t know at a bar and tell them they’re gonna kill them?

I let out a chuckle that I can’t hold in and he joins me. Our laughter increasing by the second and soon we engage in a full body laugh, belly shaking and I let my hand lay on his firm chest because I need to feel that firmness again. All of the sudden he stops laughing, I’m too busy to notice though, cackling away. Both my hands now on his chest, supporting my weight missing the way he leans in forcing me to bend backwards until my back hits the barstool.

My eyes flutter open and his face is right there, deadpan expression. “I’m serious,” he hisses, hot breath fanning my face.

“Okay,” I gush rolling my eyes.

His gaze drops, entrusting me to do the same and as I follow his line of sight down his chest and hairless stomach, up to the waistband of his jeans where he’s pulling the hem of his shirts up for me to see… and Oh. My. God! That belt’s kinda low around his hips and ugh they’re so narrow. Why are his hips so narrow? Is this how he wants to kill me?

Sign me up, please!

His hand let go of the fabric and it lowers down, my eyes widen because I think he’s gonna open his fly or something and flash me and I don’t know if I wanna see that … not here at least.  Except what I see is the handle of a knife, a blade that seems to be made out wood or bone or something… Eesh!

“Are those teeth?” I slap myself mentally, seriously though? The guy it’s showing me his lower abdomen and a knife, of curse the knife is actually what matters! I compel myself to stop looking, because as alluring that sight may be, he just told me he was here to kill me. Closing my eyes I lift my head to I can look at him in the eyes and-

“FUCK! Your eyes are totally black. Are you aware of that?”

He only nods.

“Okay it’s that because some medical condition or some like that and I’m being a total asshole for bringing it up. I’m so sorry!”

“I’m a demon,” he says with a malicious smile.

“Whaaaaaaat? No you’re not!”

He sighs, not even trying to conceal this exasperation,and with a blink his eyes go back to the normal deep green -yeah I’m gonna go with green- and he signals to the bartender, asking for a whiskey when the server gets closer.

“Hey!” I complain and he quickly changes his order from one to two. “Thanks! If you’re gonna kill me, at least buy me a drink first… like common courtesy,” I joke.

Breathing through his nose he pulls the barstool next to the one we were standing by and sits down. He’s so tall he only needs to move his ass to the side and he’s sitting. Me on the other hand, almost need crampons to climb into that thing like the first time, but I make it just in time to see the bartender deliver our drinks and some peanuts.

“I’m assuming you know everything about me, or at least enough… I mean, you’re sure I’m the one you wanna kill?” I say.

“I’m sure,” he answers before his lips latched to the glass.

“Oh-kay…you have a name?”

“Dean.”

“Dean, Really?”

“What the hell’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing it’s just… Kinda lame ain’t it. I was hoping for a Moloch or Aemon or I don’t know… errr Abaddon?”

He gives me a killer look. “Dean’s fine though… Yeah, or perhaps you could also go with Deacon. Deacon has more of a demonic charm I think.” Dean makes a sound, kinda like a growl or something. “Okay, okay. Dean!”

“So what’s the deal, Dean. How’s this gonna happen? You gonna get me drunk and stab me with your big bone?”

He turns to face me, smirking, lines appearing in his forehead because of his questioning eyebrows. A horse laugh escapes me when I realize what I said, but I cut myself, this is not a funny situation.

“I mean, you come in here, pretend you wanna sleep with me and at the last second you drop this bomb on me and that’s it? When you gonna do it or why?” I move my bag from the middle and start removing my jacket.

“Shut up,” he commands. Breathing deeply he combs his hair with his hand again and looks at me sternly.

“Fine,” I complay and bite my lips into my mouth and turn to hang my jacket on the back of my seat, sitting forward in silence. He has the knife, so I should do as he says I guess. Taking a peanut from the bowl I play with it, rolling it around my fingers. Pulling that little tip of and chewing it with my front teeth.

I open my mouth to say something, closing it right away because I don’t even know what to say. I take the small rimmed glass in front of me and take a big gulp almost spitting it all out instantly. “God, I hate whiskey.” After that we both remain silent for I’m not sure how long until I can’t take it anymore and I jump off the stool.

He does the same and stands right in front of me. “I’m just gonna go to the restroom,” I tell him, lifting my right hand up as promise.

“How do I know you’re not gonna run on me?”

“If I do run, would you come after me, find me?” I allow my hand to lay on his arm, enjoying the way his muscles twist under my touch.

“I will,” Dean promises, roaring near my face.

“Then it’s useless for me to run. I’m gonna pee, if I don’t come out in… let’s say 4 minutes you can come looking for me.” With a couple of soft slaps on the side of his arm I walk past him and towards the restrooms, not even looking back to see if he’s watching me because I can totally feel the way his eyes pierced a hole in the back of my head.

Once in the restroom I sigh and closed the door behind me. Apparently I’m dying tonight… That’s happening. Shit!

Bending down to take a good looks in the stalls I check all of them are empty. I don’t like going to the bathroom with people sitting right next to me where they can hear everything I do. I pick the one on the far back and do what I have to do. I can see the stains all over my glasses again but chose not to wipe them to hurry it up a little just in case. When I get out I go to wash my hands and I hear the door sing open. The bar was empty so of course I assume Dean came to check on me.

“Hey it’s been like 2 minutes, you could have a little more trust in me. I told you I wasn’t gonna run,” I joke to my killer because that’s how I am and rinse the foam of my hands. “Besides, the moment I start running I will trip over my own feet and that’d be it for me,” I add while giggling but the second I lift my gaze from the jet of water I see someone else. A man, definitely not Dean standing right behind me at the sinks.

I turn around, my eyes scan his tall form, and head to toes black attire. He blinks and his eyes match his clothes.

“Fuck!” I try to go for the door, but he’s quicker than me -of course- and steps in my way, pulling my head and throwing me back. I stagger but surprisingly I keep my feet on the ground, his large hand lands on my throat and he’s pushing me to walk back, until my back hits the wall of the first stall.

My hands grip around his forearm, but no matter how much force I apply his grip won’t loosen, he’s a lot stronger than I am -not that that’s so hard to accomplish.

“I already have a demon here to kill me,” I force myself to speak through his hold, maybe he doesn’t know about Dean.

My eyes are starting to get lazy though and the blurry spots appear in my line of vision. The bathroom door whips open, crashing against the wall and closing again due to the forced and I’m able to see Dean walking towards us.

“A demon,” I scream, although I know it’s barely a whisper and I’m not really sure Dean can hear me, but I point to the demon with my finger, so he can catch my drift.

Dean retrieves the bone knife with teeth from his jeans and launches for this other demon, who ducks in time and he toss me aside, as if I were just a piece of paper. I land with my side of a trash can, wailing in pain.

The new demon, flashes from under his sleeve a long silver pointy knife, and it makes me wonder what’s with demons and funny shaped knives. It’s that like a trend?

They both stand right in front of each other, like facing a duel or something. “All you Abaddon groupies are the same, you know that?” Dean asks rhetorically.

Wow, Abaddon does exist it’s not just mythological!

“You can’t just can’t accept that the queen is dead, can you?” Dean continuous.

Oh, and it’s she and she’s dead. I sit up because I never in my life thought I see a demon, less of all two demons ready to duel… Will they count their steps?

“Maybe we just can’t accept that a douche like you was the one who killed her,” the other demon spits with anger.

It doesn’t truly surprise to know it was Dean who killed her. He does look like the guy who’d take down a  big bad legendary demon. “Ah. Yeah, that’s got to hurt, doesn’t it?”

That was too cocky, Dean should learn to be a little more humble.

The fight it’s quick, the other demon, swings to get Dean with his pointy knife but Dean is faster -ugh soooooo hot!- and blocks his move, spinning him around and jabbing his bone, teethy knife into his chest. I gasp, unintentionally when orange light shoots from the demon’s eyes and chest.

Then Dean let his body fall to the ground once he’s dead and blood start pooling around his body. I get up as fast as I can, I don’t want his blood to touch me. Dean looks at me, not even preneting he’d help me get up and nods towards me.

“I’m okay,” I raps clearing my voice. My throat feels swollen already.

He comes closer to me, his hand moving up and I freeze because he’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna do it and my last words were I’m okay, so lame. At last second his warm palm rests on my chest, fingers inspecting the bruises forming around my neck and I open my eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere you and me,” he says close to my face. I blink dumbfounded.

“What, you and me?” I swallow, the soreness of my throat still there. “Where?”

“I dunno, anywhere,” he shrugs, bending over to clean his knife of the dead demon clothes.

“You wanna kill me,” I refresh his memory in case he’s forgotten.

“I just save your life,” he defends.

“I guess you’re right, I’m still alive. But what are the chances of that becoming a thing?” I caress my own neck, whining in pain.

“Let me ask you this. If I really wanted to kill you, wouldn’t’ve done it by now?”

It’s my turn to shrug. “I guess.”

“Let’s go. You should get some ice on that neck before it gets worse,” Dean says, his hand on my lower back as he hold the bathroom door open for me and leads me towards the back door of the bar.

Everything: 

@nadiandreu7, @thegreatficmaster (no Sam/Jared), @mogaruke, @samisimportant, @ria132love, @donnaintx, @feelmyroarrrr, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @love-kittykat21, @emilyymichelle, @walkingkhaleesi, @imagining-supernatural, @kdfrqqg, @charliebradbury1104, @thedevilinthedetails, @docharleythegeekqueen, @artprincessbree, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels, @supernatural-girl97, @sam-inaflannel, @sammys-lost-shoe, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @nanie5, @roxyspearing, @emoryhemsworth, @rambling-rabbit, @akshi8278, @meganwinchester1999, @geekgirl1213, @maui137, @creepykatftw @novakfandoms, @waywardasfudge, @kickasscas67, @spnwoman, @tattooedmomster13, @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou, @asgardianvamp21, @michell868,

@possesstheheart, @thatpeachybandgirl, @read-the-reid, @supernaturalmistress @jensen-gal, @its-my-perky-nipples, @esoltis280,

Dean/Jensen: 

@missmotherhen, @valerieshubin, @chennyetomlinson, @justanotherdeangirl, @jennell79, @ruprecht0420, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @evyiione, @laurafloradora, @fanfreak07, @superapplepie, @wingedcatninja, @sandlee44, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @lessons-of-red, @supernatural-fan-123, @mandilion76, @blackcherrywhiskey, @akshi8278, @papertrailsstrewnacrossthefloor, @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car, @aly-winchester, @winchesterdemon67, @supernatural-strangerthings-1980