#also its so funny reading descriptions like 'the box is gone' 'no box sorry' 'box turned to dust' 'set is complete but map is falling apart

[sovonight]

why is it easy to get a physical copy of bg2 in its original box with map included for $20 but the complete bg1 equivalent will run you at least $40

anyway i now have the aforementioned physical copy of bg2

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Things I Absolutely Did Not Want To Write, But My Brain Had Other Ideas

Me: Okay, brain! Ready to work on the thing we’ve been researching?

Brain: Naw.

Me: How about that new thing you’ve been talking about? Ready for that?

Brain: Mmmm, maybe another week.

Me: Right, then, another research day!

Brain: Nnnnnnnnnnnnnrgh, tired of reading!

Me: .....the Thomas/Mary wedding thing, since you dragged that up last week?

Brain: Pffff, last week’s news!

Me: So what do you want to do?

Brain: Oooooooooooo! BODY SWAP FIC!

Me: *groan* No, brain. Just no.

Brain: YES! YES YES YES YES YES! WE’VE NOT WORKED ON IT IN SO LONG! COME OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!

Me: I hate that thing! That is hands down my least favorite trope ever!

Brain: But it’ll be fun! And new! And different! And we never do things like that!

Me: Yeah, BECAUSE I HATE IT!

Brain: I have new ideas for it! Shiny ideas! Character torture ideas!

Me: ...................you’re not going to shut up about this, are you?

Brain: N.O.P.E.!

Me: .............right then. But after this, we’re at least getting a paragraph of notes on something else, you hear?

“This is the last of it, Mr. Barrow,” Andrew announced, walking in and setting a medium sized box down on the boot room table. There were three there already, one opened with its contents spread over the table, and the other two tucked in a corner.

Thomas looked up from the rather large vase he was examining. “Thank you, Andrew. We’ll go through that one when we’ve finished these.”

“Do you really think anyone will want to buy these?” Albert asked, picking up a very old, very thread bare toy horse that had come out of the open box. God alone knew how long the box had been in the storage attic, tucked away in the back corners.

“Who can say?” Thomas shrugged, reaching for a soft cloth. “Toffs get funny about what they’ll blow money on, don’t they?” Glancing at the horse again, he admitted, “I can’t see that one fetching much, though. Its value seems entirely sentimental.”

Anna, who had come in to fetch some cleaning salts, closed the cupboard she was reaching into and came to examine the horse. She ran her fingers over one of the bare patches. “I might buy it, for Johnny, if no one with real money goes for it. It’s a bit ragged, admittedly, but the stitching’s all there.”

Thomas concentrated on the vase in front of him, not even glancing sideways at the woman and the toy. “Tell Lady Mary you want it, and she might well just give it to you,” he suggested, forcing his tone to be bright and cheerful. He started brushing the dust and cobwebs off the vase. Urn. Whatever you’d call it. The big clay pot with Greek pictures on it. It had to have been in the attic as long as the horse, and it hadn’t been in a box. It was covered in dust and he was fairly certain that when he tipped it over there would undoubtedly be dead spiders inside. At least, he hoped they were dead. They would be soon, if they weren’t already. After all, no matter how ancient your Greek pottery was, it wouldn’t fetch much at auction if it was full of spiders.

“She might,” Anna agreed, setting the toy aside. “But that’s hardly going to help fix (FIND A PROBLEM), now is it?”

“I suppose not,” Thomas allowed. It had been Mr. Branson’s idea, naturally, to auction off some of the family’s old knickknacks, abandoned in the attic for most of His Lordship’s lifetime, to raise money. The only surprise was how readily the family had agreed to it. Thomas had expected more of a fight, but he supposed with Lady Violet gone, there was less sentiment for the fifth Earl’s belongings. “Seems backwards, though, that we should pay our hard earned wages to keep our employer afloat.”

His grumbling earned him a sharp frown. “No one’s asking you to buy anything.”

Before Thomas could reply, Mrs. Hughes came around the corner, her eyes immediately taking in the well-organized chaos. “Goodness. Well, I should hope this should fetch a tidy sum. Enough to get the job done at any rate.” She looked between Andy and Thomas. “Is there anything more to come down?”

Despite the fact Andy and the hall boys had been doing all of the shifting, Thomas answered dutifully. “No, Mrs. Hughes. We’re most of the way through the first box.” Realizing that the piece he was working on had, very obviously, not been in a box, he added, “And I’ve been handling the big pieces.” There was a lamp standing behind him, not to mention an old clock that probably hadn’t walked since the fourth Earl was a boy. He’d probably have to order in parts for that.

Mrs. Hughes nodded. “At least they’ve agreed to a buffet for luncheon. Albert can keep the cold cuts ready well enough.” She turned to Anna. “And Nanny was planning a picnic for the upstairs children for the afternoon. She wanted to know if you could take Johnny for a couple of hours.”

Thomas scowled at the writing emerging under the layer of grime on the pottery. At least he assumed it was writing. He couldn’t read it, naturally, but it looked like the Greek writing he’d seen here and there in books and such. “Don’t know why the woman still bothers. She knows the answer is going to be ‘no’.” She also knew that Lady Mary would insist the picnic go on anyway, and that she take Johnny with her, servant’s son or not. Because somehow Nanny was the only one in the world, or at least the estate, who had a problem with the Bateses’ son being treated like a member of the family. Carson would probably have complained if he were still here, and probably did complain to Mrs. Hughes when she was at home, now that Thomas thought of it, but he had no say anymore. Lady Mary loved Anna and would do as much for her as her own sister, maybe more, and that was that.

Both women turned stern expressions on him and he wished he’d bitten his tongue. “What’s gotten into you today?” Anna asked.

He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. More writing and a bit of key patterning emerged under his administrations as he tried to come up with a believable answer. “Nothing, sorry,” he finally said, the words accompanied with a poor attempt at a smile. “Just a bit of a headache from all of this dust.”

Mrs. Hughes eyed him, equal parts stern and concerned. “Mm. Why don’t you take a break and step out for some air when you’re done with that?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes,” he agreed, eager to say anything that would keep her from asking any further questions. He turned his full attention to the task at hand, trying to shut out the women's’ conversation. Unfortunately, having the best hearing in the house had its drawbacks. It was impossible to ignore Anna’s assurance that Lady Mary wouldn’t mind Johnny tagging along with the rest, or that she thought some time outdoors would do the children good. He wished he could go and work on the books, something that would at least take attention and, perhaps, distract him from thinking about the fact that Richard was coming to York to visit his parents. He’d be there for two days and, as luck would have it, those days coincided perfectly with the damn auction. He didn’t even need to ask; the notion of the butler being absent for even part of the proceedings was lunacy.

If he’d been a lady’s maid, he’d have had a chance.

If he’d have been Anna, if Richard had been Bates, Lady Mary would have moved mountains to give him time off. His Lordship would have helped. If necessary, Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson would probably have taken Johnny, or Daisy and Andy.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, pretending to ward off the headache he claimed to have. He was doing better. He was being kinder and people liked him, or at least they liked being able to have a wireless in the servant’s hall. Mrs. Hughes and Baxter cared, to a certain extent at least. Things were better. There was no reason to be jealous anymore, except…

“Um, Mr. Barrow?” Andy’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “What’s that light?”

“Hm?” Thomas opened his eyes. He had just enough time to realize that the letters he’d been clearing off were glowing, like something out of Arabian Nights, before the entire room filled with light. He thought he yelled, both in surprise and pain at the brightness, but it could have been someone else. Or all of them. Or his imagination.

The last thing he was aware of was the sense of falling, then everything went black.

In case anyone is looking at the description of that pottery and going “Erm, that sounds a bit culturally inaccurate....”, you are not wrong. That’s intentional and will be a plot point.................if I ever get to it.

(Heck, I’d suspect the writing was Arabic rather than Greek, but I can’t think of a single reason Thomas would have run across Arabic writing while Greek might show up in a philosophical something or other... That pottery really is off.)

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

My Lethal White episode 1 recap

After having had a lot of fun recapping episode 2, I went back and did episode 1 as well. It got a bit out of hand and is a loooong post...

Under the cut, because, evidently, there will be ALL THE SPOILERS! 🚨

*SQUEEEEE!!!* THEY’RE BACK!!! 🤗💃🏻🙌🏼  (Yes, I’m still squeeing, although this is a rewatch)

Let’s look at the title sequence, shall we? They’ve added a few new details: There’s the wooden cross from the dell, the White Horse of Uffington and Robin’s Houses of Parliament guest pass. The child from Billy’s memories and the pink blanket. Someone’s already mentioned the ‘whore’ swirling in the coffee cup, and then later we have a fencing icon in the pint. Cool hints. 😎

Cut to tired, head-achy Cormoran at the wedding. Strike has a slightly different haircut, and I wonder: they dye Tom’s hair darker for the role, but he has a glint of natural first grey at the temples that I’ve seen on Tom pre-Strike. How did they keep that? (Sorry about the hair kink digression…☺️)

Pet peeve of mine they carried over from Career of Evil: in the book, Donald Laing slashes Strike’s palm, but it didn’t happen in the series. There was no blood on his hand when he called Robin, and his glove was intact. And yet, Strike has his hand bandaged. I know it’s a silly pet peeve of mine, but stuff like that pulls me out of the moment. And Strike wouldn’t slap on a bandage just for a little bruising. *steps off soap box*

“You look beautiful.” - “And you look terrible.” - “It’s this jacket, needs taking in.” 😂

“I want you back.” - “What?” Augh, the double meaning of it all, Strike’s softness and Robin’s initial uncertainty of what he means. 🥺

When she realizes that Matt deleted Strike’s messages, there’s a tear spilling from her eye, and she quickly wipes it away. 😢 Such good acting. Such a brave girl.

A few of us have already addressed this in the chat: did Matt BLOCK Strike, or delete his calls and messages? Or both? They’re frustratingly unclear about this detail, and it makes a difference in terms of Strike being able to reach her or not. (I’m a continuity nerd, sorry)

Sarah standing next to Matthew. *gags*

Robin looks so beautiful! And so very sad. (Holliday is acting her heart out of this season, can’t say it enough). This is award material, hands-down. 🏆

Her look across the room at Cormoran while they’re eating! And he’s… just been staring at her all through the meal? Good god. These two.

If Cormoran falls asleep before dessert he’s got to be really, REALLY tired.☺️ Poor baby.

We’ve got to work on your fine dining skills, Cormoran darling! It’s very cowboy and rugged, handling cutlery like that, but you would SINK during an aristocracy under-cover op. Maybe the Comte de la Fère is available for a lesson?

The first chords of The Calling’s “Wherever you will go”. Ack. They really went for the original, and as someone who’s always been ridiculously in love with that cheesy song, I AM HERE FOR IT.

Cormoran walking slow-mo past the bridesmaids, looking at Robin dancing with Matt The Twat. My heart…💔

When I’m gone you’ll need love to light the shadows on your face… *sniff*

Cormoran’s FACE during the dance. I can’t. He looks like a puppy about to get shot. 🥺

(and what a juxtaposition to the little lady with the funny hat bobbing happily next to him, to everyone looking awww and being completely ignorant of the drama that’s playing out. Ugh. I’m dead.)

Matthew moves like someone who’s (painstakingly) learned exactly one (1) dance, and for their wedding only, and why is he even smiling so proudly? They must’ve just had the biggest row in history? Is he really so full of himself?

Even Robin is smiling, although staring longingly at Strike. I bet they did that so Strike would be a little mad at her and want to walk away.

AND HE DOES! 😟 You can just see the “Fuck this” from the book crossing his face as he turns around and leaves. Ack. I’m dead again.

If I could then I would, I’ll go wherever you will go

(Perfectly placed, kudos) 👏🏼

And she runs after him, looking like a fairy-tale princess. Did you see how frigging COLD it must’ve been, judging by her breath?! Poor Holliday must have been freezing to death during the shoot. And then to pull off such a heartbreaking scene…

(Also, the lawn in the park? A shitload of rolled sods. No grass looks this lusciously green in winter, and you can see the edges everywhere. Some landscaper had a field day there!)

“Are you sure?” - “Yeah. I am.” About WHAT, you idiots?! *wrings hands* To her coming back to work, of course, but there’s so much more to their statements. And I’m sure that non-book-readers thought they were about to kiss and elope, but - alas! - we know that’s not going to happen.😔

But at least we get The Hug™️, and it’s everything we hoped for: Robin crying, digging her fingers into his jacket; Cormoran closing his eyes… God help us, we are all DOOMED sailing this ship! 🙈💔

I was a little miffed upon first watching that they faded out of that hug so quickly. That was it? No, it wasn’t, as we now know, and I love, love, love that we’re getting all these extended flashbacks that reveal more and more of what happened to us!

ONE BLOODY YEAR LATER (I still can’t get over that time jump)

Lol at the subcontractor crashing his moped into the cab! It was only briefly mentioned in the book, and turning it into an actual dialogue was a fun idea.😂

And there’s Denise (that IS her, right?), completely uninterested in doing her job. Good grief - Strike and Robin are BAD a picking employees! 🙈

Robin looking not-jealous-at-all at Strike walking off with Lorelei. Ouch.

I like Lorelei, btw. They chose the actress well, and she’s nice and mature. Which doesn’t mean that I’m not secretly flinching every time she kisses Cormoran. It’s just not right.

Billy. Joseph Quinn does an incredible job playing him. 👏🏼 As dangerous as he appears at first, his despair and his efforts at holding himself together are heartbreaking. That battle he wages against his mental illness is on full display, and his scared big eyes are killing me. 🥺

Cormoran is admirably unfazed by Billy’s appearance - is that his Army training kicking in? Robin, though, is shaking but braving it out, recording with her phone although her hands are trembling. Good acting by Holliday.

Good riddance, Denise.

The good ole’ pencil trick. “I didn’t know people still did this.” 😌

I was surprised that Cormoran chose to simply break into the house on Charlemont road. It’s breaking and entering for no good reason. Could’ve been anybody’s home.

He’s not going to- EWW! He’s sitting down on that filthy couch. And plucking hairs from it. EWW!🤢

Robin: “...and some porn.” 😂 Says it as if it’s what they always find. The usual. Men… 🙄

Who’s the guy taking pictures of Cormoran? I seriously don’t remember this from the b- Oh, WAIT! Reporter guy. Patterson. Yeah. Him.

The CORE members are as cliché in their looks as are Chiswell’s upper class folks. It’s all a bit on the nose for my taste, but then clichés are clichés for a reason.

Cormoran needs to work on his disguises. Not fitting in at all with the CORE crowd, age-wise or in his look. No wonder they don’t trust him. He does it better in the books.

Oh Robin. I actually think you need a lot more therapy to work through your shit.

Ah, here we go. Seaborn bacteria. But first, Matt’s got to be a prick again. 🙄

Chiswell with his arrogance and his rudeness and his finger-snapping. *shakes head* I think if Cormoran hadn’t known he could make some serious money with this case, he may have walked out on him.

Btw, the “large” jacket is making Strike look slimmer instead of bigger. 😄 They’re so desperately mentioning Strike’s largeness, as if beating it over our heads could actually make us not see barely-6-foot and slender Tom Burke.

“Couple more potatoes wouldn’t hurt.” And his FACE! 🥰

Glenister is a really good actor. I always listen to the Strike audiobooks that he narrates, and I was worried hearing his voice in the show would be confusing, but it’s not because he sounds so different. Can’t wait for him reading “Troubled Blood” to me! 🎧

Is it a coincidence that Drummond’s art gallery has a painting of a horse in its front window? I think not.

I love that soft blue shirt they put Cormoran in. Makes him look very huggable. *blushes*

“Not sure I would make a convincing goddaughter either.”😂

So in England you can just walk up to a minister’s house and ring the doorbell without any security people stopping you? Interesting.

Chiswell just shutting the door in Cormoran’s face. RUDE.😠

The brown contact lenses. 👀 Okay, they make her look different, but not THAT different. It’s her sudden posh accent that’s the real stunner.

The panic attacks. Holliday plays them so well, I almost feel like I can’t breathe myself. 😧

I was expecting the Houses of Parliament to look a little less like a stuffy basement full of old junk. *ducks*

Barclay! Definitely looking more attractive than his description in the book. And I thought I’d gotten food at understanding Scottish. I haven’t. *turns subtitles on*

Izzy is the only Chiswell offspring who doesn’t make me want to immediately vomit.

“Venetia. Like the blinds.” Oh God. 🙈

Winn is such a creep. 🤮 Poor Robin. GET AWAY FROM HER YOU LEECH!

Of course Matt doesn’t want Robin to wear the Green Dress. Twat.🙄

The house warming party. I always wonder why Robin doesn’t have friends of her own. I have a feeling Matt has something to do with that.

The earrings. So we will see Robin finding out Matt’s cheating on her! I can’t wait for her to rip him a new one! 😈

Robin calls Cormoran - and it’s not Coco but Lorelei who picks up. That’s a smart change from the book. And it makes her the rebound girl. Which she doesn’t deserve, but it is what it is.

“And she bakes.” 🥴 Is it just me wondering how Lorelei got that cake into the tin without ruining the icing?!

Flashback to The Hug™️. God, their faces are so close. Cormoran is so soft. Nnnnhhhggggg.

Enter the plaid shirt. Lumber!Cormoran is a good look on him! 😍

The Armchair of Sadness™️. Of course that’s where the devastating phone call to Robin’s house happens! The disbelief and disappointment on Cormoran’s face is heart rending. 😢💔

@lulacat3 and I have already established the continuity error with Cormoran’s facial injuries suddenly missing when he’s reached the pub. (And they should still be there; he’s still wearing the plaid shirt from that same evening.) If I were the makeup person I would have been deeply regretful of having missed dabbing fake injuries on Tom’s face again.

The Uffington Horse. Robin’s in appropriate Wellingtons, weather jacket and a beanie for their outing. Cormoran is wearing what he always wears, and Tom clearly wishes he had a beanie. At least he gets to wear a t-shirt under his eternally blue shirts this season. REVOLUTION! 😄

Sure. Let’s just go and dig for a corpse with a shovel so conveniently available! Just the two of them - one delicate Robin and one invalid. And then Robin finds the bones after ten seconds of digging. No further comment. 🙄

But I like the change with Cormoran’s leg. As stupidly heroic as he acted in the book, I like it better in the show where he has to acknowledge his handicap and Robin takes charge.

The bones. Dun-dun-DUN!

(Good first episode, although all in all the pacing wasn’t quite right yet, and compared to the book it all felt a bit rushed. I liked episode two better.)

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- NUMBER TWELVE, GRIMMAULD PLACE

"I'm sorry," Harry said at once, dying to know the name of this brother as he felt entirely sure he'd heard of for some strange reason. It was odd though, as he was confident he'd never even met another Black besides his godfather, but there was something he was missing in that connection-

This was clearly the wrong response though, as Sirius snorted softly and shook his head, waving the apology off and muttering, "nah, just surprised me a bit. We were only close before I started school, then I think we never had more than one proper conversation." His face twitched for a moment as 'conversation' was not the right word to describe his last real meeting with his brother.

Quickly forcing himself to stay on track he smirked, "Thinking about making a toast my deranged parents have finally gone beyond the veil though. Just, you know, thought my brother really was smarter than what I knew he was going to do." Really, the blow wasn't hitting anywhere close to him finding out he was going to lose James. It wasn't even that hard to imagine, as Sirius had told Regulus this was his fate when he went to join Voldemort's crew. Still, the thought wouldn't quite hit the smug feeling he thought he'd have at being right. He'd said a lot of harsh things to Regulus during their last meeting, and he had in return. Now there was a highly likely chance they'd never even make up for it.

What he was really left wondering was how soon until it happened? Had someone in the Order already done him in without even realizing it? They didn't always take off those Death Eater masks when they did a body count as more often than not they were in a hurry after those kinds of fights happened.

Remus wouldn't let him linger on the thought long though, an odd twisted smile in place as he said, "I'm trying to figure out how this even came about? The last place on earth you'd have a poke around after you got out was this place to even realize you were now the only heir.”

  Sirius could only shrug for that, almost wishing Remus was joking, but even now he couldn't imagine the point in looking up where his Death Eater of a brother was staying, Sirius couldn't imagine he'd have bothered looking him up after twelve years in Azkaban.

James was watching Sirius' face become steadily more drawn with confusion as he kept thinking about this, so he butted in saying, "no offense Sirius, but I still can't imagine why the Order wound up there. Last I heard, you weren't even in line to posses such a treasured object as the Black house." The way he said treasured object made it sound like a bomb about to go off.

"I've no clue," Sirius shrugged. "She may have disowned me and blasted me from that stupid wall, but maybe the blood magic binding that house never left, or she couldn't figure out how to erase me from it." Then his eyes brightened as he truly grasped what he was saying, and he full out laughed. "Merlin's Holy Socks, that place is the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters! Oh this is brilliant! That woman's surely having fits in her grave!" He dissolved into insane giggling that James quickly joined in on.

Remus passed Lily the book and Lily quickly gave her child to James as she went to start, trying to ignore the boys while Remus still had an unfocused gaze. Sirius may enjoy the irony for now, but he'd seen his friend the last time he'd been at that place, and he wasn't looking forward to hearing how Sirius was going to be acting inside that house. He found it funny from the outside, where the description had fallen so far none of them would have even guessed it as the same grandeur place of Sirius' childhood home, but even knowing what it's usages were, he was sure old Padfoot was trying to spend more time out of that place than in it. He probably wasn't even there now when Harry arrived, or maybe he would brave those dank walls again to see his Godson. It was an honest coin toss.

Harry began to ask what the Order was, but Moody cut him off to wait till he was inside.

"Which reminds me," Lily butted in before they could go too far into the story and she could question this now after Sirius had gotten over his shock. "What even was the point of Dumbledore writing you that note just as you were outside the house? Surely if he wanted you to know the address they'd have just given it to you at the Dursleys. What's the point of the note at all?"

"Hope I ask Dumbledore," was all Harry could say.

Moody took the parchment back and set it on fire while Harry reexamined the houses. There was an eleven to his left, and a thirteen on his right, but no twelve in sight.

Sirius blinked in confusion as he again recalled such a disgusting neighborhood that seemed to have fallen well out of shape from his time there. Surely that had all happened after everyone was dead, but what on earth was happening to make the house completely not there? There was already a ton of enchantments set in place so that no one could enter unless they were invited in, how much more had Dumbledore done to the place to make it safe?

Harry again began to ask where this place was, but Lupin whispered for Harry to think of the note he'd just read.

Just as he finished, a battered door appeared from nowhere right in between the two existing places.

"What in the world?" Remus demanded as he studied the book like it too would suddenly grow its own house.

"That sounds like the Fidelius Charm,"* Lily wrinkled up her own brow as she tried to understand this magic she'd never seen used. Her hand automatically sought out her husbands and they held tight to each other for a moment as they remembered all that spell would lead to for them.

Sirius' face had screwed up with the force of his trying not to automatically start screaming and shouting at the mention of that Charm again, what he'd lead his best friend into all because of his mistake. He couldn't fathom a second how he'd ever worked out that rat was in any way a better option than Remus or even himself, this is what he got for trying to be clever with some decoy, his friends death. Merlin they should have just used Harry since he couldn't have given the location to anyone!

Remus gave Sirius' shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, whispering some words of comfort, but still waiting for Sirius' terse nod before waving Lily to continue.

Like someone was inflating a house, walls and struts began spanning into sight, pushing the other two houses away to make room, but the stereo in elven kept thumping on, not a light flickered anywhere, no one seemed to notice such a thing but him.

Then Moody was prodding Harry in the back to get him moving again.

Sirius was now in far less of a good mood as he imagined going back into that house for even a second, not even the thought of his old hag of a mother's angry face could make this amusing anymore and now he hoped he'd just spot Harry coming in and drag him right back out for some quality time.

Harry uneasily followed up the crumbling steps to the shabby black door that only had a serpent doorknocker with no other decoration.

Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped it to enter, and then Harry was pushed inside while being whispered at not to touch anything.

"You guys were starting to freak me out." Harry hadn't meant that to come out as a whisper, but the mention of that charm had seemed to sap all life from the room and he couldn't think of anything better to say.

"That's sound advice though," Sirius ground out for Remus. "That place is a walking death trap if you don't know what you're doing." It wasn't even entirely the house's previous occupants, there were a lot of objects in that place even Sirius had never fiddled with too much after he'd once seen Regulus stick his nose into a box and come back out with it almost scale covered. His mother had fixed him right and then scolded Sirius for letting his brother play in that room.

Sirius couldn't help it, his original good mood on the subject had vanished, and the more he thought about it the more he realized he didn't care of how much good use it was being used for, he really didn't think it was worth it just for all the memories that were sweeping him he'd thought he'd repressed because of this place.

Harry stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. He could smell damp, dust and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building.

Harry was watching Sirius growing more and more agitated as this carried on, and Harry was starting to feel the same way. Harry could just feel the emptiness and hatred pouring out of the walls of that house and something of thinking about Sirius in there cut him deep, which was odd when he blinked again and felt like he'd grown used to the old building...

The rest of his guard piled in behind him, though none moved past towards the stairs or the entrance to a lower set of stairs. Instead they waited for Moody to release all of the lights back to the street, and come back inside to break his Disillusionment charm. Then they all still remained quiet and still while Moody got some light going.

"Why are they still whispering when they're inside?" Lily asked in confusion, her own voice sounding a little loud in the suddenly eerie quiet of this room, but she wanted to at least try and keep some level of normal about them.

Sirius wasn't helping, for once he seemed to have no need to voice his opinion about anything as he just shrugged and kept his eyes on the fireplace instead of that book.

The others hushed voices were giving Harry a feeling of foreboding as he kept trying to pick out details in the gloom, from the dusty creaking floorboards do the dust covered chandelier above and the multiple picture frames that hung crooked on the wall.

James watched a smile creep back across Padfoot's face, but it was a twisted looking thing full of mocking hatred that his mother's precious house had clearly fallen into such disrepair.

He could also detect soft scuttling of little feet just out of sight and more serpents shaped into legs of tables.

Then he heard distinct footsteps, and Molly Weasley arrived from the bottom hallway.

Harry at first felt a smile flash across him at her reappearance again, then he blinked and all of those feelings he'd felt over that summer began simmering just under the surface as he muttered, "so Ron's really there, right at Headquarters."

Remus gave Harry an uneasy look for that tone, but had no real response for him. He wanted to say more than likely that their kids were all old enough to be home alone at the Burrow, but even that wouldn't have felt like much comfort to Harry as he could have just as easily been there with them as well.

She beamed at the sight of him, though Harry noticed she looked much more pale than the last time he'd seen her.

Lily sighed in sympathy, she knew she often looked just as strained after Order meetings.

She greeted him at once with familiar kindness, already saying he looked too peaky,

"He always looks peaky after he leaves that place," James grumbled.

after releasing him from a forceful hug, but he'd have to wait for dinner. Then she turned to the others and said that he'd arrived, the meeting had started.

"Finally," Sirius muttered, "I'll consider this whole place worth a visit if you go give Dumbledore a good telling off for your summer."

Harry made some frustrated little noise both in agreement, and depressed that he wasn't even a little convinced this happened.

The trope began heading down the hallway, but when Harry tried to follow Lupin Mrs. Weasley caught him.

"Hey," they all suddenly pouted. Harry'd been left with nothing for a month, how long was he going to keep being held back?

She told this was for Order members only.

"You mean Harry isn't automatically one?" Sirius began glaring at once. "I mean, he's kind of the whole reason the Order exists again, I think that automatically qualifies you."

Lily watched the boys around her automatically agree, but suddenly some of her protesting dimmed as she glanced down at her infant. She of course would be going crazy not knowing what was going on, she certainly was during school with no way to help. That didn't mean she wanted to toss her son into this though, she was fighting now so her little infant never would have to. She couldn't claim she was really against him sitting in on this either, but she just wished he didn't have to.

Ron and Hermione were upstairs and he would wait with them. She'd show him the way, and insisted he keep his voice down.

Harry asked why, and she said she didn't want to wake anything up.

"I meant why can't I come, but that's odd too," Harry rolled his eyes.

He tried to ask what, but Mrs. Weasley said she'd explain later, she was in a hurry, she'd just show him to the rooms.

"So he's going to stay there the rest of the summer?" Lily blinked in confusion, not really wanting to imagine her son sleeping in that place, couldn't he just Floo to the Burrow from there?

Her question was drowned out by Sirius' louder one though.

"Why is Molly even the one doing this at all?" If Sirius' face got out any more sour, he'd have that puckered expression made permanent. "I should be the one up there greeting my godson, and I'd let him down there. What's she think she's doing?" No meeting should be important enough it would stop him seeing Harry again.

Remus could only offer his original idea, "Maybe you're not even there, even now imagining trying to get you inside there would be a living nightmare. It would be easier to train a niffler."

Sirius just huffed and grumbled something as he didn't find this a better answer.

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him on tiptoe past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door,

James blinked in confusion at that as he told, "I don't remember that." True he'd only been over once, but it had been vivid enough the place had lingered and that object hadn't.

Again, Sirius only shrugged without a trace of care.

and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves.

Lily's face squished up in disgust as she glared at the book, trying to resist the impulse to turn the same look on Sirius as it's not like he'd been the one to do this, but suddenly she realized that Sirius may have taken something from his parents though he'd never claim to. If this was how they treated their old servants, than she suddenly wasn't as surprised if Sirius learned to treat them that same way.

All resembled each other through the same nose.

Harry's confusion for the place grew, what were they doing in a place that look as if it belonged to the darkest of wizard dwellings?

"Well you've got that one right Harry," Sirius huffed.

Harry tried to ask another question, but again Mrs. Weasley cut him off saying Ron and Hermione would explain. She left him at a door on the second landing, and he'd only just turned the doorknob, again a snake heads, and got a glance and more dim walls two twin beds and two owls fluttering overhead before a mound of bushy brown hair tackled him.

"I missed hearing about this," Remus managed to find a smile again at the mention of Harry's friends.

"About time," Sirius seemed to be refusing any good mood right now.

Hermione was squealing in delight, shouting at Ron that Harry was here! Already babbling on about how furious he was with them? She knew he would be, there letters had been useless,

"Well at least she admits it," James actually did get in a grin for this.

but they'd sworn they wouldn't tell him anything because of Dumbledore, and oh those dementor attacks and the Ministry hearing! She'd done her reading on it, and they just couldn't expel him, he was allowed to use magic under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction-

"I've missed hearing about Hermione like this," Lily grinned again for that little first year who'd babbled herself silly about books on their first train ride.

Ron cut in to let him breath. Harry at once noticed he'd gained a few more inches in their month apart.

Hedwig landed softly on his shoulders from the wardrobe above.

"And just where has she been?" James demanded with an eyeroll.

Sirius though narrowed his eyes as he insisted, "no, that's a good question, did someone there really lock up your owl and not let her back? Why! It wouldn't be that big of a difference just to allow Hedwig to come back so at least Harry-"

"Sirius," Lily cut in.

"What?" He barked back.

She met his scowl with a sad little frown before telling him, "it was wrong of them to keep Hedwig away, but I don't know what you're yelling at us for." She thought she did though, when she noticed his eyes tighten at the 'them.' He was clearly wanting to strangle someone for whoever kept messing with his godson, even himself as he clearly wasn't doing any good.

Ron watched the snowy owl with unease as he told his best friend she'd been in a state since she'd been here, pecking their fingers off.

Harry was ashamed to see a deep cut on his index finger.

"Ouch," Lily winced in sympathy. She hadn't actually expected Hedwig to follow through on Harry's threat, but at least was relieved to see Harry looking just as repentant.

Harry began to apologize for that, explaining he just wanted some answers.

Ron agreed at once they wanted to give them, Hermione had been going spare saying Harry would do something drastic if they held back news,

"She was almost right," Harry sighed, knowing if those dementors hadn't attacked he still wouldn't have lasted there much longer.

but Dumbledore had-

made them swear not to say, Harry finished coldly. Suddenly the happy warmth at seeing his friends again had been dumped right out again.

"So I'm guessing this won't be your next Patronus memory about them," Remus muttered uneasily as Lily flipped the page.

All of a sudden - after yearning to see them for a solid month - he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.

"Well I get that you're pissed at them," James cocked his head to the side, "but that was just a little cold. They explained themselves in the only way they could."

"Yeah," Harry grumbled, "that didn't make me feel better."

There were all starting to watch him in a way they hadn't before, but they'd never seen this bubbling anger before either. They'd only gotten a hint of it when he was arguing with Dudley, now they were all getting a bad feeling it might make a reappearance, maybe worse if that look on Harry's face was any indication...

There was a heavy silence before Hermione kept trying to say Dumbledore was doing what he thought best.

"And everyone always does what Dumbledore thinks is best," Remus murmured as he watched Sirius already growing as angry as Harry, though still at himself for not having disobeyed Dumbledore already and thinking his pup deserved far more than the Headmaster seemed to think.

Harry gave a snappy agreement as he kept petting his owl and now looking anywhere but at them. Suddenly he looked at the marks on both their fingers again and didn't feel as sorry.

"Harry!" Lily snapped at once.

Harry felt like he'd just been snapped between two worlds, the anger he remembered feeling so vividly at his friends suddenly drowned out by the sound of Lily's voice and now replaced with plenty of real shame for that nasty little comment.

"I really am sorry," he whispered, but it seemed more to himself than her as an aching stronger than ever reared up in him and he wished he had his friends here with him now instead of having no clue where, or even when, they were.

Ron began to say Dumbledore had told them he was safer with the Muggles, but Harry snapped back didn't do him much good when the dementors had showed up.

Ron agreed that's what the Order following you had been trying to stop,

"They knew I was being followed!" Harry suddenly barked, then he groaned in misery as his emotions were leaving him feeling torn in half. At fifteen and angrier than he ever had been in his life at them, and now with a longing so deep it hurt more than he ever would have believed.

"Harry," Sirius sighed at his side. He forced himself to concentrate on his godson rather than his own equally foul mood and instructed, "take a deep breath pup, and just remember it all does work out for you. You'll get your grievances with Ron and Hermione out and then everything will be fine."

Harry struggled for a moment to get his lungs working normally again, but the confident tone to Sirius' voice truly did ease him back and he forced himself to concentrate on one mindset only, this time here and now, and push down the anger for his now absent friends. Then he gave Sirius a winning smile for the reminder.

Sirius returned the grin at once and waited until Harry looked away to throw a guilty look at James, knowing the father would have much preferred to have been able to do this, but then James surprised him by smiling right back with only the smallest bit of tightening around his eyes for having to watch. James had forced himself to come to terms at watching this for some time, and it honestly warmed him seeing Sirius was good at it.

Harry felt a jolt shock him as he realized everyone knew he'd been followed! He had to fight every bit of him to stop from yelling the words that it hadn't done any good, he'd still had to look after himself.

Hermione whispered how angry she'd seen Dumbledore when he heard, it was scary.

Harry blinked in confusion as he remembered back to how Dumbledore had looked at the end of last year, both at the realization of what had been done to his friend and when he'd defended Harry from Fudge. At the time he'd been warmed beyond belief to see his headmaster come to his defense, now it wasn't computing with the same cold man who'd abandoned Harry all summer. What had he done so wrong to change his headmaster's opinion of him?

The others didn't notice Harry's burning silent questions, they were too busy shivering as they easily pictured their anger quantified to Dumbledore's levels over that instance.

Harry snapped back he was happy Mundungus had left, otherwise he'd have probably been left there all summer!

"He, he wouldn't really," Remus tried to protest, as Dumbledore must know how miserable Harry was at that place, surely Sirius would have been vocally against that enough...but there just wasn't anything in him to say any of that was true. He could easily picture Dumbledore doing this if he thought that was what was safest, and if he was using that argument to keep Sirius quiet, well that could actually have worked.

"That's not what happened though," Lily tried to pacify for everyone around her, even herself all going grim at the statement.

"Only because I did what I wasn't supposed to," Harry raised a brow at her, "that hardly makes it any better."

Lily made a disgruntled face at him for the tone but couldn't argue that point.

Hermione's voice lowered significantly as she asked if he was worried about that Ministry hearing?

"Was that an attempt to change the subject?" James cocked his head to the side as he gazed at the book. "Hermione truly needs to read a book on how to do that."

Harry instantly lied no, as talk of that would not put him in a better mood.

He began examining the rest of the room, but the only stand out was an apparently empty painting that Harry swore he heard snickering as he walked past.

Sirius made a noise of disgust, so quickly trying to find any excuse to put off what Harry could just feel pounding through him Harry asked, "what's that?"

"His name's Phineas Nigellus," Sirius rolled his eyes, "you might have spotted him in Dumbledore's office at some point, cause he was once a Headmaster of Hogwarts. There's also a portrait up of him in that house in one of the guest rooms."

Topic of the inside of that house hadn't seemed to make Sirius feel a lick better so Harry let it go, but he still wondered why he felt something significant about a painting of all things.

Harry demanded why Dumbledore had thought he should be kept in the dark? Did they bother to ask?

He glanced over at them just in time to see them exchange a look.

"Wouldn't make anyone feel better to feel looks behind your back," Lily sighed even as she was gazing wearily at the next page where she saw a lot of capitalized letters. She forced her eyes not to skip ahead and tried to pretend like she didn't know where this was going.

Ron insisted they'd told Dumbledore they wanted to tell him, but he's been busy and made them swear not to write anything important in letters because the owls could be intercepted.

"A very real threat," Remus tried to say in hopes to keep the logic up front for them all, but clearly no one agreed as it shouldn't have even been needed.

Harry snapped back owls were the only way to talk to people now?

Sirius wanted to snark that had been his point all along, or even messages shouldn't have been needed and Harry should have properly been with him, but further grumbling of that just wasn't going to do anyone any good.

Then Harry decided no one had trusted him,

"Now you know that's not it," Lily said at once.

"Sure felt like it," he grumbled back.

or that he couldn't take care of himself.

"I still don't see what that has to do with anything," James sighed. "He won't be sending you out on any missions that you're thinking of while you're still in school."

Harry sighed with frustration as his school was mentioned again, so many feelings for that place all jumbled into one a migraine was already threatening to break again.

Hermione tried to interrupt no one thought that, but then Harry blasted then how come he'd been left at the Dursleys while they'd been here all along?

Ron insisted they didn't know much of anything, his mum kept them out because they were too young.

Ironically they might have agreed, fifteen was too young to be dealing with anything involving Voldemort. They hadn't really even known there was anything to do against him until they'd left school, and hadn't started questioning it until their sixth year. Problem was, Harry would be involved, and so would his friends by default. It was just sad all around to realize both how young they were, and how it couldn't be avoided.

But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.

Lily sighed as she looked at what Harry was fixing to belt out, but she just couldn't bring herself to shout that all out. She couldn't even bring herself to raise her voice that much, she knew the others already grasped what level Harry was at by the boys sheepish look at all the feelings pouring out of him at once on his friends.

Every last thing he'd ever been thinking over the past month about how much he'd handled, like the Philosopher's stone, and the basilisk, and the dementors!

"Harry," Lily groaned as she rubbed at her temple, letting the book dip slightly so she could eye him better.

"I know," Harry mumbled without being able to meet her eyes. First his dad, now his mum, he just kept disappointing everyone lately.

She kept staring at him though until he looked up and met her eyes while she told, "it's not as if I can blame you for your temper snapping, no one can control that, I just wish you weren't taking it out on the ones who don't deserve it."

Harry gave her a bleak smile as he still forced himself to concentrate on his every breath, on Sirius at his side shaking his head at Harry's display even while he wanted to do a bit of shouting of his own, to absolutely not think about how angry he'd been at the time so he wouldn't get lost in his mind again.

Every bitter thought that had lingered in him came pouring out now at his loudest volume, causing Hedwig to take flight in shock and Pig to begin zooming around the room even faster.

"You have a knack for scaring your owl away, don't you?" James muttered like he hoped that would stop Lily from continuing for a moment, but it didn't.

He'd been the one to get past every foul thing in that tournament last year, he'd escaped from Voldemort with his life!

Lily's voice hitched as she once again was forced to remember all that Harry had been through, all on his own, always with no one there to help him. It really was no wonder he lashed out because of the summer he'd had to suffer after all that.

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, whilst Hermione looked on the verge of tears.

Harry kept sinking farther and farther into his cushion as shame managed to burn out any ill will he'd once held towards his friends, for now at least keeping his mind level in the here and now. His mum was right, this really had come out on the wrong people, he couldn't believe he'd done this to his friends.

But why should he be told what was happening!?

Hermione tried to cut in she'd wanted to tell him,

"Brave little one," Lily murmured, it took a lot for someone to interrupt someone else's shouting.

but Harry wasn't done as she howled back that Dumbledore had made them swear! Four weeks he'd been on his own trying to find out anything, and they'd been having a laugh without him!

Hermione tried one last time to cut in how sorry they were, she understood he was furious and she'd be as well if it were her.

"I think I'd fear for my life to hear of her in a furious state," Lily sighed in relief before telling them, "least you seem to be done shouting for now."

Harry hardly looked over at her as he kept flattening his hair and trying to vanish from sight, or more preferably go hunt down his friends and properly apologize to them.

Harry continued glaring furiously, his chest heaving while Hedwig hooted glumly down at him.

When the silence rung though, he demanded what this place was?

"A torture chamber," Sirius grumbled, which seemed to be true even for Harry. He hadn't been inside there five minutes when he was already showing his worst. Sirius had often wondered if that place was enchanted to bring out the worst of people, and this wasn't disproving his theory.

Ron instantly answered Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry began tartly that no one was going to bother explaining to him what the Order of the Phoenix was.

"Well you've hardly given them the chance to do that," Lily couldn't completely stop her rebuke. "You did just walk in there and start this up."

Hermione cut off his sarcasm by explaining it was a group founded by Dumbledore to fight back against You-Know-Who.

Harry demanded who was in it, and she returned a lot of people, probably even more than they'd seen around here.

Then Harry just stood there glaring at them, demanding 'well?'

Ron hesitated before asking hesitantly, well what?

"You really can't start so open ended Harry," James at least tried for a smile while he corrected Harry in a less harsh tone than Lily had managed. "Even I'm not sure what you're asking for and I'm following your head."

"Thought it was obvious," he rolled his eyes at James, honestly wanting to make the father laugh for a moment as just days ago Harry had seemed too afraid to speak to him, now he was literally mouthing off. It was quite a turn to see such a change coming through him so quickly, though it just made him all the more sad this was the closest he'd ever seem to get to watching his son grow up, years taking place over days.

Harry shouted Voldemort at once! What was he doing, what had he been up to?

Hermione reminded they didn't know, the Order was keeping them out, but she had some ideas she finished quickly at the look on Harry's face.

"You weren't really going to start shouting at them for that?" Lily couldn't stop a frown at him now. "It's not their fault they aren't allowed in."

"They certainly made their letters feel a lot more obnoxious than for 'we don't know.'" Harry grumbled back, still not entirely able to replace the bad mood this book was reminding him of it seemed.

Fred and George had invented some Extendable Ears,

At the word invented, everyone finally felt their spirits lifting again. The twins had always been a foolproof way to make them feel better, and their adventures in inventing was the most entertaining thing going on in the background of Harry's life.

and they could be used to eavesdrop on conversations. Only problem was their mum had found out about them and went berserk on her twins, tried to bin the lot of them.

"Really?" Lily demanded, finally turning her sharp eyes off of Harry and onto the book in disapproval. "She's still doing that to them? Mother yes, but I can't really say she has a right to be trashing their things like that."

"I can't believe she's still trying to," James sighed. "At some point it really does boggle the mind how she's still fighting them on something they so clearly want to do, I'd like to think she'd start encouraging them when she realized how badly they want this."

Harry had to resist the temptation to tell them both to knock off Mrs. Weasley, instead he put as much conviction into his voice as he could, "I'm convinced she'll ease up on them in no time." He truly felt it in him the mother would be proud of her boys, but he was weary of saying that in case it caused another spur of pain. He'd managed to keep anyone else from continuing on this for now though.

But they'd gotten some usefulness out of them before they'd been found out, like how the Order was following some known Death Eaters keeping tabs on them, some were trying to recruit more members to the Order, and they talked a lot about guard duty, though they weren't sure what exactly.

"I guess I should be flattered I get discussed at these meetings," Harry scowled, even as deep down he could feel something about that was off...

Harry snidely said that last one couldn't be about him?

Ron agreed that made sense with a look of dawning comprehension.

Sirius couldn't help a mean little laugh Ron really hadn't put that together? What exactly had he really been thinking about all summer for not having realized that? Had he and Hermione been that cozy?

Harry gave him a hard nudge to get him to stop, he already felt bad enough for how he'd reacted to seeing his friends, he didn't want to hear the others picking on them now.

Harry just snorted at him as he resumed his pace, still demanding answers that if that's all they knew, what had those letters been about with them being so busy?

Lily was still frowning at him, wishing he'd drop the tone already.

Hermione insisted they had, they were trying to make this place livable again. It had been empty for ages and now they were trying to decontaminate all the things that had been breeding in here.

Sirius snorted in surprise before starting to giggle like a maniac as he imagined the look on his mother's face if she heard that. It seemed Kreacher had passed away, a blessing he was more than happy to hear as well.

They should be starting on the drawing room tomo- she cut off with a squeal of surprise.

Lily hadn't meant to shout that so loud, but she'd yelped it more in surprise than anything causing the others to jump as well.

With two loud cracks, Fred and George materialized out of thin air in the middle of the room.

Harry just couldn't shut off his spikes of annoyance lately as he grumbled, "is it just me, or is the system really unfair towards Muggleborns? Just because you've got magical parents they can't tell you're doing magic during your summer holidays, but when I do it," he finished with an obvious enough look.

"To be fair," Lily tried, "it is intentionally biased. There's just no way possible to detect a single person's magical energy, though studies have tried. The trace is only set to detect that of magic for underage people, not even individuals. So instead they have to do it by location, and just trust that parents aren't allowing their kids to do so during holidays."

Something of what his mother said tickled in Harry's mind, and suddenly he snapped his fingers and said, "that's it, that's why Tonks and Moody could use magic at my place. Lupin was talking about that to Kingsley when I was coming back into the kitchen, but it didn't make any sense at the time. He said something about how because Mr. Weasley had been using magic before at my place it was going to be overlooked. I didn't know what he meant because Mr. Weasley wasn't even there."

Remus blanched and avoided all eyes for a moment to pretend he hadn't just heard Harry automatically slip back into calling him by his last name again, now right in this room.

"That, kind of makes sense," James frowned in thought, "he was there to pick you up last time, and so long as he forewarned the Ministry again he was going to pick you up, they'd just ignore magical energy at your house for that time period because they'd just assume it was Arthur doing it."

"I wonder why Arthur wasn't there?" Sirius frowned, "he couldn't have been at work, otherwise that wouldn't have worked."

Harry just shrugged for answer, though something of what Ron said tried to bubble to the surface. Guard duty? Had Harry been watched even more closely after the dementor attack? No, that didn't make sense, there wouldn't be a guard on the house while he was being picked up, so what-

"Well I'm just happy you won't be in even more trouble for that," Lily sighed in relief as she went back to the book.

Hermione clutched at her chest in surprise as she snapped at them to stop doing that!

She was ignored as George grinned at Harry, saying he'd thought he'd heard familiar dulcet tones.

"I'm sure it was hard to miss," Sirius grinned.

Fred agreed it wasn't good to have all that bottled up, and be sure to let the rest out. There might be people fifty miles away who hadn't heard him.

Harry gave a sheepish smile while everyone around him laughed, though it did make Sirius wonder if the Order had heard this and no one had come up to check? They might have blocked out the noise outside of the room though in an effort to keep the kids out.

Harry just grumpily surmised they'd passed their Apparition tests then.

"You've been saying everything grumpily lately," James told him pleasantly.

"Can't seem to shake it off when I keep getting annoyed," he snipped.

Fred agreed with chipper, while Ron grumbled at them it only would have taken them thirty extra seconds to walk down the stairs.

"I would just like to take this moment to remind that they were complaining of Percy doing this last summer," Sirius grinned.

"I'm positive the twins have flamboyant answers for that," Remus snorted.

James suddenly blinked as he eyed his two friends, before cracking up laughing.

"You going to share the joke?" Sirius demanded when he'd subsided enough but the baby was still giggling in his arms.

"I'm honestly just picturing their reactions when they realize who they're in the same house with," James stated with a stupid smirk in place.

It only took them a minute before they exchanged impish grins with each other, but Harry shot down the idea at once as he said, "well I never told them that I knew who the Marauders were, so unless Ron did, I don't think they even know."

Sirius was suddenly pouting at him as he demanded to know why.

Harry answered simply, "when would it have come up?" The only scenario he could see was if Sirius or Remus had referred to the other as their nicknames, and while they swapped between the two often enough in here, Harry hadn't once heard Sirius or Professor Lupin do the same in his time.

Sirius and Remus were starting to look disappointed now, after the twins had gone on about them when the Map had first been introduced they'd love to think they got a chance with a real chat to their follow up pranksters.

Harry grimaced as he realized he was just killing everyone's mood of late, and insisted to his brain to cut it out already at least in here. What was it about this year that was putting him in such a foul mood no matter what?

Fred waved that off as he turned to Harry and scolded he was interfering with their reception.

"Harry, how dare you!" James mock outraged as he wagged his finger at him.

Harry forced a smile he didn't really feel at the picking, now struggling with himself to understand why he couldn't just laugh along like he had in the past. This couldn't all be because of his rotten summer and lingering shame for what he'd done to his friends. What on earth was happening to him this year to cause such a resurgence of these bad feelings he was having so many problems shaking?

He showed Harry a long, flesh colored string and better described their new Extendable Ears, that they were trying to use to hear what was going on downstairs.

Ron warned they should be more careful with those, if Mum caught sight of them again-

Fred waved his brother off, saying it was worth the risk as they were having a major meeting.

Sirius sighed in disappointment Fred had skipped a perfectly good opportunity to use his name. Harry clearly needed the laugh he was sure it would have given.

The door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared.

Harry suddenly smiled for what felt like the first time in hours as he chuckled at his own description for seemingly no reason, and the others didn't even care enough to question it, they were just happy to see him fighting to get past whatever mood he was in.

She greeted him casually enough, saying she'd thought she'd heard his voice.

"Apparently everyone could." At least this time his voice had come out more self deprecating than angry. Then his face managed to brighten even more as he said, "I think that's the first time she's outright said hello to me like that."

"Only took her three years to do so," Sirius grinned, "maybe by next summer she'll carry on a conversation."

Then she turned to Fred and George and told it was pointless with the Ears, Mum had put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.

"Darn mothers who think ahead," Remus pouted.

George pouted as he asked how his sister knew that.

Ginny explained Tonks had told her how to tell,

"Tonks keeps getting better and better though," Sirius smirked at the idea of that little kid growing up to teach kids such valuable things.

just throw stuff at the door and if it bounces off the Charm's in place. She'd flicked a few Dungbombs around but it was a no go.

Fred gave a disappointed sigh as he said he'd wanted to know what old Snape was up to.

"Snape?" They all chorused in disgust. Lily broke free of that first though as she thought back to wondering just what Snape did for the Order, and Dumbledore's rather interesting instructions to him at the end of last year. She remembered distinctly Dumbledore's words in saying Snape had turned spy for them and that's what had kept him out of Azkaban, and while the boys had initially dissed the idea as they refused to trust anything by him, Lily could almost feel hopeful for it even if it didn't make sense. What reason did he have to do this that hadn't been there when he joined in the first place?

Harry yelped his surprised while George agreed that he was downstairs giving a report now, while Fred added on he was a git.

Hermione reproved them, saying he was on their side.

"Doesn't make him not a git," James scowled.

Ron snorted that didn't stop him being a git.

"Here I was wishing Ron would appear here," Sirius smirked, "now I don't have to miss him."

James just chuckled as he agreed, but also said, "honestly though, any sane person but Hermione would say the same."

Ginny agreed Bill still didn't like him like that settled the matter.

"I wonder which brother Ginny looks up to the most," Remus snorted.

Harry wasn't sure if he was still angry or not, but the thirst for information was keeping his continued shouting held back.

"Whatever works love," Lily sighed, still wishing he'd apologize rather than just deciding to blow the matter over.

Harry asked if Bill was around, and Fred agreed he'd officially moved back from Egypt to get a desk job, with benefits.

The grin on his face made Harry question what that meant, and Fred asked if he still remembered Fleur Delacour?

"Oh?" They all muttered with intrigue, having thought nothing of the casual flirt mentioned in Harry's last year.

Well she'd gotten a job at Gringotts to eemprove er Eenglish, George mocked in a fake French accent, while Fred snickered along that Bill had been giving her private lessons.

"Well congratulations to the two, I hope they enjoy those lessons," Lily smirked while the boys outright began giggling as well at the news, or at least the way the twins had delivered it.

Charlie was technically in the Order to, George added on, but he was still in Romania as Dumbledore still wanted some foreign wizards out there and Charlie was making contacts when he could.

"I don't see why Bill couldn't have done that?" Remus said innocently enough, "I don't see how he needed to come back for just a little desk job."

"I'll explain it to you later Moony," Sirius smirked as he patted his friend's shoulder.

Harry asked wouldn't Percy be better for that job.

"Oh yeah," the three Marauders muttered, seeming to forget about him more often than not.

Harry though tensed all over again, a sudden blackening trying to shroud all memories he had of Percy.

Harry had last heard of that Weasley working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry.

"Well I'm happy you brought him up," Lily smiled, "I was curious if he got to keep his job in the department, I'd be really happy for him if he got something so young."

Harry just gave her a sad little frown as he resisted the impulse to start bracing himself for some very bad news.

At Harry's question though, all the Weasleys and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks.

"Uhoh," James frowned in confusion as he tried to lean around Lily and see what that reaction was. He was no fan of Percy's but that hadn't been a pleasant start.

Ron at once told Harry not to mention him around his parents, while Fred told it was because Dad broke whatever he was holding and Mum started crying.

"What did he do?" Remus struggled to get out in a non-accusing voice, but it was hard to imagine him doing something to cause that reaction in his parents that wasn't terrible.

Ginny sadly agreed it's been awful to watch.

"Look Sirius, she is technically having a conversation with me," Harry muttered just to try and keep that bad feeling from washing over him any second.

"One on one then," Sirius corrected, his eyes still trained menacingly on the book and not to be distracted, even by this.

George agreed they were all shot of him now.

Harry insisted what had happened? Fred explained that his brother and Dad had a row, it was pretty out there, since Mum was usually the one who shouted.

Lily's eyes flipped wide in shock, she couldn't imagine having such a terrible fight with her child it caused that kind of reaction.

Ron went back a bit and said this was during the first week of their vacation, and they'd just been fixing to head over here. Percy had come home all smug because he'd been promoted.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing though?" Sirius' tone was still more icy than confusion, he'd never liked hearing about Percy and he wasn't at all liking how this was starting considering the last thing he'd heard about the Ministry hadn't been a good thing.

Harry was stunned at the news, since Percy's first job hadn't gone over well since he'd managed to neglect the fact that his boss was slowly going insane. (Though the Ministry and Harry differed on why that was.)

"No one noticed, I'd hardly think Percy had been blamed for that," Remus huffed.

George agreed they'd all been surprised since Percy had gotten in trouble for not reporting what was going on with Crouch, he'd gotten a hearing saying he should have told a superior.

"I guess I can kind of see that," James sighed, though he still didn't see how this had to do with having such a terrible fight with his parents.

Harry was still confused why he'd been promoted now, and Ron was almost eagerly explaining this to Harry just to stop him continuing shouting it seemed.

Harry winced with renewed chagrin at what he'd done to his friends, now realizing how his friends had felt all the more because of how his dad had shouted at him this morning.

Explaining he'd been all pleased that Percy was now working right in Fudge's office,

"Oh bollocks," Sirius groaned as he ran a hand miserably down his face. "Fudge didn't really try to do this did he?"

"Percy didn't really fall for this," Remus countered with a calculating look. "It's been made obvious Harry favors the Weasley's, and if Fudge really hates Harry now, then doing something like this for a Weasley doesn't make any sense."

Lily was fidgeting uneasily with the pages before she pressed herself to go on, now sincerely hoping this fight hadn't really been about what she was thinking.

as Fudge's Jr. Assistant.

"Really?" James demanded. "That, that's just so-" he cut himself off as he seemed to run out of words for how idiotic that felt. What was Fudge's game here?

He'd thought his parents would be proud.

"Well yes, if he'd earned it," Lily sighed.

"I don't get it," Harry frowned at them. "Yeah it's weird, but what's so bad?"

"If Fudge's attitude is anything like we last saw," Lily patiently explained, "than Percy getting something at a time like this should raise a red flag for him and his family that the Minister's up to something, putting someone so close to Harry Potter in his office."

"What?" Harry wanted to laugh, though his sinking gut was confirming she was right on point. "You think Fudge wants Percy to spy on me and report my favorite dessert?"

"Not in so light of questions though," Remus agreed grimly while Harry looked back to the book with worry.

They weren't, because Fudge had already been going around the Ministry telling anyone who was in league with Dumbledore to clear out their desk.

"Oh, and now Dumbledore's involved to," James groaned, this going from bad to worse.

Dumbledore's name had been tarnished in the Ministry lately because he kept trying to convince people that You-Know-Who was back.

"I can not believe any sane person would think like that," Sirius sneered.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't believe this," Harry ground out, trying his best not to shout another grievance that had been plaguing him that summer. "Ron said they were all ready to believe it when the Philosopher's Stone was nearly taken from Gringotts."

Lily looked at him sadly as she explained, "The concept is a bit skewed. There's a difference between people speculating and fearing, and outright saying it. I'm sure that if Dumbledore had declared that yes, Voldemort had been the one to do this, then people would have reacted the same then."

Harry still didn't think that made any sense, but stopped arguing the point.

George told how their dad explained Fudge was making it clear Dumbledore was just trying to destabilize their life, and anyone who was in league with Dumbledore could join him in not being welcome here.

"In league with him?" Lily demanded. "He's not the one trying to destabilize life!"

Fudge suspected Arthur of being close to Dumbledore, he always had been friendly, and that dad was a weirdo because of his obsession with Muggles.

"Which really shows more about Fudge than anything," James snapped in outrage, he found Arthur's fascination perfectly understandable and honestly compelling when Lily and Sirius treated him to Muggle education. It really showed how a person thought though when they'd hear the same things and look down on the whole civilization for not being as good as theirs.

Harry still didn't understand what this had to do with Percy, and so they told that their dad thinks Percy was only promoted to spy on the family and Dumbledore.

Harry gave a low whistle as he muttered about how much Percy would love that.

"But, Percy should know that?" Sirius forced himself to phrase it as a question. "He's smart enough to know when he's being played."

"The twins would have done it to him enough," James agreed.

Lily was just blinking slowly down at the pages now, she didn't even want to continue to what she now truly knew the fight had been about, she didn't want to hear about Percy fighting with his parents about this because she knew without a doubt Percy was wrong. The saddest part was though, some part of her still pitied the poor boy. She'd long since noticed he'd always felt ostracized from his family, and earning a promotion like this and going off his past experiences should have taught him his parents would praise him for this like always. Then they went and dismissed him, and Percy would feel shunned. It didn't excuse such a fight it left his parents in the mess they were at all though.

Ron gave a hollow laugh as he agreed, that Percy had started shouting at their dad all sorts of terrible things like how his dad had been holding him back in the Ministry.

"That sounds like completely the opposite though!" Sirius snapped. "Every time we've heard of Arthur he's out there helping someone out and on first name terms with a lot more people than Percy when his own boss didn't even know his name!" Sirius was breathing rather hard at the end, but he couldn't help it. Percy wasn't his family, but he could still feel the reminding sting of betrayal that rat had caused him as he heard of this. It was a different kind of betrayal, but choosing that Ministry over his family could not be worked out in his mind!

Harry was having trouble picturing Percy shouting such a thing when he could far more easily recall Percy splashing into the water just last year in concern for his brothers welfare. What had changed in that time to make Percy like this?

That Arthur was going to go down with Dumbledore's bad name and Percy was going to make it known he was no longer associated with that disloyalty to the Ministry.

Harry wasn't the only one scowling by the end of all that, no one could believe what they were watching Lily spit out in frustration. Of all the times they'd been agitated of hearing about Percy, they still would never have called this!

So now he'd made it clear he no longer belonged to their family.

"It's a good thing they don't know your real last name then, Weatherby," Remus sneered in disgust.

He'd packed his bags and left that night.

Harry swore under his breath at the end. He'd always liked Percy the least of the Weasley's, but even he wouldn't have called this.

"I still can't picture it," James whispered. He'd never imagined that Voldemort's return could manage to pull yet more families apart like it had his own. His eyes flickered to Remus briefly, unable to think yet again what it had implied they'd all be thinking about him in the coming year, and forced himself to listen to Lily go on.

Ron sighed as he explained their mother had been crying so much lately because of it, she'd tried going up to his place but all he'd done was slam the door in her face.

Lily couldn't stop a little hitch in her throat, even with Ron describing it she couldn't force the image into her head of any child turning on their mother like that. Molly did not deserve that for anything, especially as she was most likely only there to let him know she still loved him despite this decision.

Harry still couldn't understand why Percy would do this, he must know Voldemort was back and his dad wouldn't talk like this without proof.

"You would think," Sirius agreed nastily, "but I've never met someone so ignorantly stupid they wouldn't understand the word's Voldemort's back either."

Ron winced as he said Harry's name had been dragged in, that all the real evidence was what Percy had said, and that just wasn't good enough.

Harry watched those around him yelp furiously on his behalf again, making him smile just slightly at the defense.

Hermione sniffed Percy took the Daily Prophet seriously.

Before Sirius could even open his mouth to make his recurring joke, James suddenly half screamed, "how much was Percy told!?"

The baby in his lap let out a wail of protest at something so loud, but even while James began soothing him he had worried eyes on his best friend.

It only took but a moment for the others to realize what that implied, and Sirius lost a shade of color before he got out, "I'm sure if Percy knew anything new about me he'd have gone badgering that right to his new master."

Harry was saddened to see them all so easily flip on Percy, Sirius instantly resorting to those kinds of insults, and then confused at his own confusion as Harry was very sure Percy deserved it for the rest of his life. He was still trying to recall the time Percy had weaved himself through an angry crowd to fight back against those Death Eaters last year as the same guy who'd done this to his family. Something in him was trying to insist Percy must regret this...

"No, most likely it would have been an introduction type thing like what happened with Molly, so if I hadn't been around to their place yet, I'm sure he knows nothing about me."

It was comforting at least for the moment that Percy hadn't gone so far into the Order he would likely know more current whereabouts on Sirius at least. Did he know anything about the Order? Ron had said this had happened right before they'd been going to Grimmauld place, so surely Percy knew his family was fixing to relocate out of the Burrow and where they were headed? Maybe it had been like Harry though, and they'd only been told of the location right before they'd entered, so Percy had no clue of anything.

Harry asked what she meant by that?

Lily had to go back and reread what Hermione had actually said to set her husband into a panic, and then they were all just as baffled as Harry by the comment enough no one interrupted her in hopes Hermione would just explain.

Hermione's anxiety grew as she kept watching Harry, asking how thoroughly he'd been reading the paper?

"Why would he?" Remus began with his eyes narrowed.

Harry defended not cover to cover, just the front cover where any good news would be.

Hermione flushed as she tried to say that once a week they slipped in his name.

"Mention him how?" The others could already hear a growl beginning in Sirius' throat.

Harry tried to protest he'd have seen that, but Hermione corrected not if he'd just been glancing at the front page. They weren't big articles, just little things they'd slip in like he was a standing joke.

"A standing joke about what?" Lily began nastily, but forced herself to continue as she didn't even want to imagine what all was being said about her baby, what was being said would be bad enough.

They were all building on what Rita had said.

"Oh no," James began furiously ruffling up his hair at once. "Please don't tell me-"

Lily cut him off as her voice continued rising in sharpness.

Harry was confused, as he'd thought she wasn't writing anymore.

Hermione had a satisfied smirk in place for that, saying she was keeping to herself for now, not that she had a choice.

"I want to know if she's mentioned that to the twins, earn her a lot of respect in their book," Remus muttered bleakly, looking for anything good for just a moment.

But Skeeter's work was the foundation for what the Prophet was doing, which was how his scar had been hurting and he'd been collapsing last year.

"Could hardly forget," Harry muttered as those articles still stung him now thinking about.

She began saying all of this very fast, like hearing this quickly would hurt less,

Harry felt some distant part of him want to laugh for his friend which was not coming to him now at all of the grim, wide eyed faces.

that the Prophet was taking those old stories, and now every time someone got hurt, they'd make the snippy comment they hoped he didn't have a scar so they'd have to worship him next.

Harry really had been trying to keep himself under control, so it surprised him when his Mum didn't and she exploded a mountain of diatribe on that Prophet and what they were doing to her Hare Bare. The boys watched her vent like they just had about Percy, agreeing with every word she said so much they were just a bit disappointed when Harry gently cleared his throat and tried to cut her off.

"Really Mum, it ticked me off too, but-"

"It's disgusting," she insisted like she thought Harry was trying to argue that point. "The Ministry I work for would never force the Prophet into pulling these stunts, but clearly the editor's right in Fudge's back pocket and I can't believe anyone would do this to you!" She wanted to keep pressing her point right up into Fudge's face, but as Harry continued to look sadly at her she instead turned burning eyes back on the pages.

Harry half began shouting at once he didn't want anyone doing that!

Hermione quickly cut him off, saying they knew that, but the Ministry was telling the Prophet to say all that to keep Harry as a discredited little boy who just wants to keep being famous.

"Has he completely lost whatever a mind he had!" James gaped. "He's only famous because of what Voldemort did to him," clearly the act of saying his own murder still couldn't really get through his mouth, "what possible reason could Fudge think Harry would make that up for!?"

"If I find out, I'll be sure to let you know," Harry sighed, now feeling even more guilty for his earlier anger as he kept trying to curb theirs without success.

Harry spluttered with pure indignity that Voldemort had killed his parents!

Lily too couldn't manage to quite get that out in her tempered voice, but it hardly cooled her either as she kept going venomously.

Ginny cut in saying they knew that, and Hermione flipped to mentioning she was surprised they hadn't mentioned that dementor attack yet.

Remus' brows shot up in surprise at this turn of circumstances.

Some thought they would, because not only were out of control dementors a big deal, but Harry's doing magic would tie in perfectly with this whole image they were painting of him being so above it all. They were probably just waiting until after the trial though so they could really go to town with the scene.

"But he's not going to be expelled," Sirius snarled at once. "So apparently they're just going to sit on that story forever, poor them."

Harry managed a smile for his godfather's utter confidence in that, managing to increase his own in that outcome and increasingly improving his mood about that at least.

Then she corrected herself that's what would happen if he was expelled, but he wouldn't be, the law was on his side.

"If they abide by their own laws half the things I've heard them doing lately wouldn't be done," Lily snapped.

Before Harry had to think of a response to that, conversation was cut short by soft steps on the stairs, and the twins instantly vanished with another crack, their Extendable Ears in hand.

"Because Molly wouldn't be at all suspicious why the twins would choose to vanish as someone approached," James sighed as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wishing he could put more energy into the comment but already feeling strained from so many stressful chapters in a row now. How was this one already worse than the last?

A second later and Mrs. Wesley poked her head in, saying dinner was almost ready and the meeting was over.

Harry still huffed with one last tick of annoyance he'd been left out of that.

They could come downstairs now, though she did ask why there were Dungbombs all across the door?

Ginny said Crookshanks at once.

"I'm so proud," Sirius blinked more in confusion than actual pride though. "She's come so far already."

"Ginny's getting more interesting as time goes by as well," James agreed at once, hoping to stay on a pleasant topic for just five minutes now felt like a miracle.

Mrs. Weasley instantly bought it, though she at first thought it had been Kreacher,

"No!"

The sudden outburst from Sirius had Harry and Remus nearly leaping from their seats in shock, which he clearly took no notice of as he kept going hatefully.

"Of all the rotten luck! My parents kicked the bucket but that nasty little blighter couldn't have gone with them! Just what did I do to deserve having that thing in my sole care!"

"I'd think you'd find it a good thing," James tried to offer up some happy suggestion for this. "Now you can clothe him and just have him out of your life for good." The odd part was though, if Sirius was going to do that he'd have done it already.

Sirius didn't offer up any more suggestions though as he huffed and grumbled a bit more under his breath while Lily tried to ignore the outburst she found uncalled for.

he kept doing odd things like that. Then she reminded they all keep their voices down in the hall.

"Still haven't explained why they have to do that," Remus grumbled as he massaged his ear and glared at Sirius, at least he understood his friends consternation a little better, but now his ear felt like it was starting to ring from all the shouting going on so recently.

Then she spotted Ginny's hands and how dirty they were, and commanded she go wash up before eating.

She made a face at them as she left behind her mother, and then Ron and Hermione exchanged an uneasy look, as if fearing Harry was going to start shouting again now that they were alone.

Harry's mouth went dry as he ducked his head all over again for causing his friends to ever look at him like that, now wishing he could give himself a good kick in the rear.

"At least you clearly regret it," James tried to pacify him, Harry had suffered enough guilt it was time he be comforted at least a bit. "I've only ever had one really bad row with Sirius, and we didn't exactly hug it out when all was said and done. You apologize to them, I'm sure they won't think on it any more."

Harry looked up towards the book hopefully.

The sight of their unease left him feeling ashamed, and he tried to begin saying something, but Hermione cut him off saying she'd expected him to be angry, but they'd only been doing what Dumbledore had thought was best, even though they did try to tell their headmaster-

Harry cut her off shortly.

"Well that could have gone better," Remus chuckled.

"But at least you seem on equal ground again," Sirius sighed as he tried to get that old problem out of his head.

He looked around for something else to say, as talking of the headmaster only made Harry want to shout some more.

"Not a good thing to be lingering on for now then," Lily muttered as she knew that if Harry's temper did break again, it really should be on him.

Then asked who Kreacher was?

"Well that's not helping," Sirius grumbled, wondering what he'd done to have so much of his family being pushed back into his mind all of a sudden.

Ron explained he was the house-elf of the place, a nutter.

Hermione tried to correct he wasn't one, but Ron said back that his life's ambition was to have his head on a plaque with the others.

"At least Walburga taught him something then," Sirius' teeth flashed with that grin in an almost predatory way, "I'm sure I can help with that."

"Sirius, you're disgusting me," Lily snapped at him before reading loudly in hopes he was kidding.

She tried to defend if he was a bit strange it wasn't entirely his fault.

Ron rolled his eyes and told Harry she still hadn't given up on her SPEW stuff.

"I think I'd be worried for her if she had though," Remus chuckled. "Little fighter that she is, I can't imagine she will until she gets what she wants."

"Least she could do is leave that elf out," Sirius huffed.

Hermione at once began defending her Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Even Dumbledore said they should be more kind to Kreacher.

Harry suddenly felt an alarm bell going off in the back of his head, leaning just that little bit closer to Sirius and suddenly very worried for his godfather's behavior towards his house-elf...

Ron brushed her off and lead the way downstairs.

Then he held out a hand on the landing, stopping them all in place as they spotted the crowded hallway below, they might be able to hear something.

Finally they all felt themselves focusing on something they all wanted to hear about again, even the current Order members were insanely curious what was going on in this future.

The three peeked over the banister to see Snape leading towards the door.

James suddenly realized at the beginning that it had in fact ben Snape Molly must have been referring to as having arrived, and his agitation only increased as he realized Dumbledore really wasn't there to give some kind of explanation to Harry for leaving him like that for so long?

Harry leant further over the banisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix . . .

"Well all are," Sirius begrudgingly agreed, his mind still trying to work out just what exactly that was and when it would start taking place. If he started seeing Snivellus at his meetings, Sirius wasn't going to be a happy camper with his Order much longer.

Trickling down in front of their face was a flesh-colored bit of string, and Harry glanced up to see the twins had the same idea and were trying to listen on the whispers.

"Have I mentioned how brilliant those two are?" James' eyes brightened with excitement as he fully appreciated this fascinating device. "As if I needed any more proof they're set for life with all we've heard so far, this is such a cool idea I'd buy a dozen!"

It did not work though, as just as they were in range Snape and most of the others exited out the door.

Ron muttered that at least Snape didn't eat here as he grudgingly took to the stairs.

"As if there isn't enough filth in that house," Sirius sneered even as his mind tried to boggle Snivellus in his childhood home. Well the two did go hand in hand with how filthy they were.

Hermione hissed another reminder at Harry to keep himself quiet as they reached the landing where the drapes were.

"Is anyone going to explain that?" Lily grumped as it just kept being mentioned.

Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Tonks were bolting the door shut after the left members and were turning to head towards the kitchen with the younger ones, when CRASH.

"So that quiet thing didn't seem to work out," Remus blinked in confusion.

It was Tonks, who instantly started apologizing she kept tripping over that umbrella stand from the ground.

"She really is a clumsy little one," James chuckled at the thought.

"Best use that troll's foot ever came to, getting knocked over by that girl," Sirius smirked.

The rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.

Lily suddenly recoiled into the cushions in shock, and some honest fear as she glanced at her boy and back to the pages with concern. Before anyone could demand, she kept reading anyways.

The curtains behind them had flown open, and the noise was coming from a life size portrait of a horrifying looking woman.

"Oh she didn't," Sirius began, looking almost faint from the overwhelming disgust he could feel at such a thing existing.

Her skin was yellow and stretched tight, with rolling eyes and flyaway black hair, and all along the hall beside her more drapes were flying open to reveal other portraits that began shouting just as loudly.

Mrs. Weasley and Lupin jumped forward at once to try and close the curtains back around the screeching noises and multiple insults.

Remus was almost concerned this didn't seem to be new to him, how many times had this happened? He had a horrible idea who this vile woman was actually a portrait of, as he kept watching Sirius' face as he seemed to be in a living nightmare.

Such things as scum, half-breeds, mutants befouling her father's house!

Tonks was apologizing incessantly behind them, while Mrs. abandoned the large one and began trying to stun the smaller ones instead, while a dark haired man came charging up the stairs behind Harry.

"I think I found Sirius," James whispered to no one as Sirius' mouth was starting to drop open with horror.

He began howling right back at the portrait to shut UP!

The woman's face blanched when she saw him, doubling up her insults to blood traitor, and abomination of her flesh!

Sirius began opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, apparently too appalled for words back, for now.

He roared again for her to shut up, as he and Lupin finally managed to get the curtains closed. Now that her noise had been cut off, the others began silencing as well, as Harry's godfather turned back to face him as greeted him grimly, saying at least now he'd met his mother.

"Chapter's done," Lily sighed as she passed the book to James and took her baby back, all of them still braced for Sirius to crack and some kind of reaction to burst out.

HPHPHPHP

I did not mean to dramatically end with Sirius twice in a row, but I can't resist cutting these chapters off either because I'm a terrible person like that.

*I've had a few people ask me to explain why Lily and James weren't their own Secret Keeper, and I promise I'll bring that up in book seven when Bill mentions he's his own, but for now I couldn't think to make the same rules apply to an empty house that didn't belong to Dumbledore in any way.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (26)

@spickerzocker​ said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping. 

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me. 

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked. 

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself. 

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough. 

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her. 

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder​ said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman​ said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

&

Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

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@noisypaintersong​ said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

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@kirakats​ submitted:

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Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now. 

@kurawastaken​ submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you 

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget​ said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth 

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@damianwaynerocks​ said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches​ said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK

[teliangel]

In Memento Mori

Author’s note:

Alright, so, I’m not in the habit of posting my writing here, so if I’m formatting wrong, someone feel free to yell at me. This is a short work of fiction in response to @holdyourbreathfornow​ ‘s thought exercise here that apparently I connected with so strongly I proceeded to have a nightmare about it that I woke up crying from, and @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors​, who is the creator of Love and Other Fairytales . Thank you for letting me play in your sand box, I’m sorry for setting it on fire.

PLEASE NOTE, if you haven’t read LAOFT this isn’t gonna make a lick of sense, so go read that, get emotionally steamrolled, then come back to be emotionally sucker punched by this slugger. Also this is set roughly after the boys get married but before Linda was a thing, because murder is ok but orphaning children is not in my mind apparently.

TWs: Major character death, murder, prolonged existential dread, pondering the death of loved ones, angst, hurt with absolutely no comfort, torture (unintentional and non explicit but still there) brief descriptions of serious injuries, and just all the bad feelings. Let me know if I missed anything!

Parings: LAMP, mentions of Toby/Greta

Virgil had been preparing for his husbands' deaths since the first moment he had met them. He couldn't help it. It was an unspoken truth between them most of the time, how many people he'd lost, how many more he now had to lose. Still, the fact remained that he spent much of his time thinking of their inevitable departure and how he could endure it.

Roman's death was something he had come to terms with even before he'd met the man, back when he was little more than a child coming to chatter at the tear-spun coffin that held the prince. Virgil had never really believed he'd be free. It hadn't made sense to put hope in the hopeless, so as Roman grew and his voice deepened and time stretched forward in its usual merciless crawl, Virgil had started in bits and pieces to grieve that he'd never get to know the man Roman would become. He'd be yet another Fisher-turned-Gage who would keep him company for but a while only to some day never return, buried with his family before they could ever meet.

But when Roman had broken the coffin and woken him, that hadn't eased the grief that curled dark and patient at the edge of his thoughts. He was reckless as an adult, nearly as much so as when he was a child, noble, and self-sacrificing to a fault. Virgil knew a martyr when he saw one, and he suspected from the beginning that he was likely to bury Roman young, or younger than necessary, at least. Their witch would stand between them and any possible harm without hesitation, with no thought of himself, and there was only one way that could end.

Patton's inevitable end was distinctly harder to accept. Not because Virgil loved any of his husbands more than the other (that was a bit like asking if he had a preference for his lungs over his heart) but more because the thought of Patton being gone was bit like going to bed and waking up the next day to be told the sun was stolen away never to be seen again. Patton was all things good and warm, a bright light in all the bleak, and it was hard not to imagine a vacuum opening up in space, shuddering at the sudden loss of well-being in the world.

If Roman was a tragic inevitably, all the more sorrowful for its expectedness, Patton was a juddering, shocked intake at the abrupt wrongness left behind.

And Logan. Oh, Logan, his sweet Spring.

Forever wasn't really a term Virgil found himself thinking in anymore. He had tied his life into too many heres and nows to allow him to think of 'always' in the way he used to. But Logan was his compliment, his imperfect reflection, alike in his dissimilarity to everything else. With Logan there was a hint of that 'always' in the way it once was to Virgil. But that didn't mean that he didn't grieve his third husband with the same ferocity as he did the other two. He had to, had to let that part of his heart wallow in the sadness of it all, so that when the day came that he was alone again he could bear it without being consumed and crushed.

So he imagined what it would be like to be without Logan, and he could only think of it as being robbed of a sense, his eyes or ears gone, leaving only a ringing gap, a darkness where there was something before. There would be no more like but not alike, no more simply understood by nature of being not-human, no calm compliment to his impatience, no more affectionate mutual pestering when ruling became too much.

Yet in all his dreary pondering of death and how he might survive his losses, Virgil never stopped to consider and come to terms with his own death.

It was stupid. So stupid. Such a stupid, stupid way to die, so easily prevented.

Virgil and Logan had been leaving the court, a long day of half-truths and forced pleasantries and barely concealed threats cut loose behind them as they went to meet Roman and Patton in the clearing, their clearing, for a well earned picnic. Virgil had pulled them through the shadows, both he and Logan agreeing that they were tired enough that neither was in the mood to walk.

There was a hunter. Someone from out of town. Maybe he was lost, who knew. Virgil hadn't noticed him, hadn't been paying attention, and for what little life he had left he would most certainly not forgive himself for being so careless. They must have startled him. Virgil had never seen what moving through the shadows looked  like from an outside perspective, but Patton had very reliably informed him that it was rather unsettling to watch. It was easy to imagine that two fae appearing like that, with no attempt at a glamour between them, would be alarming. Virgil barely had time to register the click of a trigger, turn, and with loud bang he was flat on his back, clearly able to feel a small disk of iron wedged in his right lung. Above the ringing in his ears he heard Logan shout, only to be cut off with another bang and a whimper. Virgil desperately wanted to call out to him, to know how he'd been hurt, but he couldn't get enough air in his rended lung and all that came out was a burbling gurgle.

Then came the worst bit.

Virgil could feel his body trying to knit itself back together again and again, unable to do so around the poisonous bullet buried in his body, but incapable of ceasing to do as it was designed to. He bled slow, so slow, body paralyzed under the weight of cursed metal not even the size of his thumb. It might have been funny, if he could get in enough air to laugh. Toby might have found this all interesting, he always liked practical solutions to magical situations, though Virgil never thought he'd use such a preference to try and hurt him. Goodness, he missed his brother-in-law dearly at the moment.

He could hear shouting over the buzzing in his skull, and familiar calloused hands gently tilted his head up to rest on rough jeans and comfortable thighs, and he sighed in shaky relief to once again be resting somewhere familiar. There was nothing to be done, he knew. No spell, no surgery would fix this, so he simply looked up into his lover's face and let himself be comforted at the sight of him. He was so pretty. Hair a fiery, copper halo in the late afternoon sun, warm as his furnace hot skin. Virgil only wished Roman would stop crying so he could admire his lovely green eyes for the last time. He did so love his eyes.

More than anything he wanted to reach up  and touch his witch's face, comfort him, but was like a safe had been dropped on his chest and he was left weak and heavy from the weight of it.

On the edge of his perception he could hear Patton chanting softly. It took a moment to focus enough to make out what he was saying, but Virgil could just barely hear "-up, wake up, wake up, wake UP-" and oh, he had to see.

Gradually, in increments, he turned his head to the side to see Patton, rocking side to side, with Logan's head tucked under his chin, body sprawled across the ground at an awkward angle. Right between his perfect brows was a neat little hole oozing brackish blood. Some guilty part of Virgil felt relieved. That would have been quick, easy. His body wouldn't have had time to try and heal itself the way Virgil's had. He wouldn't have been in pain. Fighting the leaden weight of his limbs he slid his arm across the grass, long fingers brushing lightly against Logan's still ones. They were so cold, not the usual summer rain warm he was used to, and he let out a distinctly inhuman warble as his chest spasmed in protest. Patton answered in a very human-yet-not-at-all wail, and Virgil winced in sympathy as both his and Logan's glasses cracked in response. Everything was getting rather fuzzy at this point. Virgil blinked sluggishly, humming reassuringly when he felt Patton's hand joining Romans' tight in his hair. It probably should have hurt, but it didn't, and he wouldn't have minded even if it did. In all his pondering of death, Virgil had tried not to think much on what happened to whatever was left of a person when their body was too damaged to carry them any longer. But he liked to think that whatever was next, oblivion or something else, that humans and fae and every other living thing went to the same place. Then he could see Greta, and Toby, and not-so-little Trudi, and Oma, and all his lovers again someday.

He sighed in shaky relief at the thought.

"I'll . . . see you . . .soon?" He managed to push out as he gazed up at Roman, voice just this side of pleading.

Everything faded to gentle dark before he heard the reply, though.

[daffodilon]

cafuné ii

cafuné - (brazilian portuguese)

“the act of running your fingers through your lover’s hair; among the few words that cannot be directly translated into english”

Pairing: Jungkook / ♀ Reader Rating: E for Explicit Genre(s): 🍭 Fluff, 🔞 Smut,  🍌 (Attempted) Humor WC: 10,448 Warnings: Sexual content, porn with feelings, shower sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, dirty talk, hair pulling kink, definitely some light hand and finger kink, like, jungkook fucking your mouth with his fingers, elements of exhibitionism, elements of possessiveness, excessive use of the word fuck, jungkook naked and soaking wet should be his own warning, baby boy jungkook, and as usual dom/sub dynamics if you squint. Maybe you don’t have to squint that hard. Obligatory warning for me trying to be funny. Un-betaed, but I have done my best to proofread it myself. 

Summary: 

Yesterday you accidentally tripped up. You fell, crashing and burning, stumbling your way through what could probably be called the World’s Clumsiest Confession, letting your roommate, Jungkook, know about your feelings for him. 

Incredibly, Jungkook returns your feelings, and you subsequently found yourself somehow blessed with a lap full of him, kissing you like you’re worth worshiping and grinding against your thigh until he fell apart in your arms at your encouragement. Unfortunately the two of you were interrupted before you got the chance to take it further, and you went to bed alone and unsatisfied, but not before Jungkook promised, beautiful and determined, that he’d make it up to you. 

Today, Jungkook makes it up to you. (And, since you’ve gone about things a little out of order, he asks you out properly to make that up to you, too.) 

If you haven’t read it, here’s part one. I highly recommend it! 

I have also, er. compiled a collection of... visual aids for the shower scene. You’re welcome.

“... Hey. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“No, I mean. Uh. Do you want to go have dinner? With me?”

“Yeah, that sounds good, the fridge is basically empty anyway. Maybe we could stop at the grocery store on the way home.”

Jungkook huffs out an exasperated sigh.

“No, I mean, --I’m trying to ask you out to dinner with me. Like, on a date.”

You have to smile at him.

“Yeah, dumbass, and I’m trying to say yes.”

“You- Oh.” He blinks and huffs again, but this time it’s with a laugh, bringing up one hand to rub the back of his neck, as if suddenly shy.

“Come here,” You beckon him over to you, smiling, standing by the counter where you just put the hot water on for tea.

You extend your arms, reaching for his waist as he shuffles forward into your personal space. You bite your lip when you notice his eyes drop to your mouth like he can’t help it, before accepting the sweet kiss he presses there.

You’re the one who called him over, but your heart still jumps in your chest when your lips first touch. You let yourself get lost in it, inhaling through your nose and tilting your head to lean into the hand that finds its way into your hair.

It’s the first time you’ve had the chance to do this since yesterday, and it’s perfect. Just a hint of tongue and teeth, mostly the press of lips and the quietly bubbling excitement of something that’s still so new, new, new.

You break apart after a moment, and Jungkook asks,

“So, just to clarify here, you’re agreeing to come on a dinner date? To... You know. Date me?”

Jesus Christ, he’s cute.

“Jungkook, I am agreeing to date you. Effective immediately. Let’s go to dinner. Do you want it in writing?”

Jungkook smiles back at you big, “No, that’s okay.”

“Okay.”

You struggle a bit to turn around and find yourself a cup, mostly because Jungkook doesn’t seem inclined to let go. So you squirm in his arms until he gets the picture and lets you turn around, but then he pushes forward again until his chest is flush with your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder, so he’s wrapped around you completely. You resign yourself to your snuggly new fate and shuffle around the kitchen after your tea and your favorite infuser with him glued to your back. “Do you want a cup?”

“Yes. please.”

“Green?”

“Green.”

You turn your face toward his and plant a kiss on his cheek, just because you can. Because you want to, and you’re allowed to do that now. The thought calls up those giddy butterflies in your tummy again.

“So where do you want to go for dinner?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I was thinking someplace kind of nice, maybe.”

“Mm. Italian?”

“I like Italian. What about that winery place we were thinking of trying?”

“Are we talking about going out for dinner?” A new voice joins the conversation suddenly. “Good idea.”

“Oh! Tae.” You turn around together to face Taehyung, as he enters the kitchen toting a handful of dirty dishes and moves toward the sink to rinse them. “Did you just eat?”

“No,” Taehyung says with a straight face, moving his empty bowl and chopsticks behind his back. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Are you sure?”

Jungkook speaks up, still attached to your back and refusing to let go. His jaw moves against your shoulder when he says, without an inch of remorse, “Taehyung, you’re not invited.”

Taehyung pushes out his lower lip, and he looks like he’s about to complain, so you fill in, “It’s a date.”

Jungkook nods as best he can without lifting his head.

Taehyung looks from you, to Jungkook, back to you, and back to Jungkook again several times, like he’s trying to tell if this is some kind of prank. Then, suddenly, his shoulders fall back down to a normal place from where they’d been drawn up defensively.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, finally.” He sets down his dishes and makes a beeline straight for you, takes your face in his hands and says, “Thank god,” before planting a kiss square on your nose. While you’re still sputtering, he moves on to Jungkook, taking his face in his hands as well and giving a matching kiss to Jungkook’s scrunched up nose with a wet smack. “Thank fucking god. You two are the worst. I love you both so much. Go enjoy your candlelit evening. I ate all the leftover stir fry.”

You sigh, still pawing at your nose with the corner of your sleeve, feeling a little like a cat trying to have a bath. “I knew it. That was going to be my lunch tomorrow.”

“Sorry. Pick up some more yogurts while you’re out?” Taehyung asks, flashing his teeth and raising his eyebrows, “Please? You’re my favorite roommates and I love you the best.”

“You just said we’re the worst!” Jungkook protests in a petulant tone from somewhere near your ear.

“That’s true,” Taehyung nods solemnly. “Jungkook is no fun to play Mario Kart with anymore. He loses on purpose every time you walk through the living room just to get up and go talk to you.”

“Wait, he what?”

“... And you never side with me against Jungkook like you used to. When I say, ‘Yah, Jungkookie, you’re working out too much, roll your sleeves back down,’ you used to take my side but now you just get all blush-y and mumble-y, and make excuses why you need to be in the kitchen when Jungkook gets out of the shower after he gets home from the gym.”

All you can do is splutter nervously, “What? When have I ever-”

“And don’t even get me started on that.” Taehyung rounds on Jungkook again.

He’s trying to wag his finger accusingly but he’s wearing, for lack of a better description, what appears to be a My Little Pony crop top, so the effect is a little ruined. It’s unclear at a glance whether the shirt in question was actually designed to be a crop top or simply a normally fitted shirt for a significantly more child-sized person.

To be clear, it’s actually extremely cute on him. Most things are. It’s just not particularly threatening.

He steamrolls on, clearly having a lot to say on the subject. “Do you go to the one gym in the world that doesn’t have showers? Why are you waiting until you get home to shower anyway? I’ll tell you why. It’s because you like to walk in the door all sweaty and make sure she’s watching before you fill up your water bottle in the sink and flex while you drink it. You’re the worst. Both of you. But I forgive you. Because I love you. Buy me yogurt?”

Taehyung reaches the end of his tirade so abruptly it leaves you in a mild state of shock, but not so shocked you can’t at least defend, “I spend so much time in this kitchen because I like it here. This is my kitchen. I cooked that stir fry you just ate, Kim Taehyung.”

“Yeah, and I shower at home because there’s, um. Better water pressure,” Jungkook pipes up.

“Sure,” Taehyung says, grinning wide enough to let you know he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. Then his expression softens, “Congratulations, both of you. I mean it.” He looks from one of you to the other, and turns to go.

“Love you, too, Tae,” Jungkook calls after him.

“Sorry Taehyung. Thank you, we do love you,” You echo.

He waves a hand in acknowledgement without turning around, disappearing the way he came.

“... Do you really lose at Mario Kart just to come talk to me?”

“Not ever, once in my life,” Jungkook asserts staunchly and without a moment’s hesitation. “Do you wait around for me to get out of the shower on purpose?”

“Taehyung is a snitch and I am going to get him back.”

Jungkook laughs and uses his grip on your waist to spin you around and kiss you.

“I knew you liked the muscles.”

You run your hands over his biceps and squeeze gently, and Jungkook obligingly flexes a little, just for your benefit. You swallow hard.

“They’re... fine.”

He laughs again.

“I do feel a little bad. Taehyung may or may not have been the one to deal with the brunt of my late night breakdowns about you.”

“Kind of him not to bring that one up just now.”

“Very kind,” He agrees.

“Who knew he was pulling his punches back there. Want to bring him home some food?”

“I will take tiramisu in a to go box, thank you!” Taehyung’s booming voice comes carrying from not at all that far beyond the doorway.

Jungkook winces. “Oh no.”

You chuckle at his consternation. “Oh, yes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Comes the Kool Aid Man impression from right around the corner.

Jungkook closes his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Goodbye, hyung,” he says in a pointed tone.

Silence greets you both. “... Do you think he’s gone?”

“Who cares?” You shrug.

“I care.”

“You do?” You raise an eyebrow. “Well. That wasn’t what it seemed like, yesterday, when you-”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook yelps, as soon as he catches on to exactly what direction that sentence was headed, silencing you with one sweaterpaw and an expression of panic on his face.

Your shoulders shake with barely controlled laughter.

“Shut up!” he squawks, breaking into a higher register. “Oh my god. We are not going to talk about this right now. Are you going to shower before dinner?” He changes the subject quickly. You nod, looking up at him with mirth in your eyes. “Okay. Okay, you go do that. And then change into something nice.”

Jungkook steers you around, pushing you towards the bathroom determinedly, refusing to lift his hand from your mouth until you’re safely over the threshold and standing in front of the bathroom sink. “Come get me when you get out?”

All you can do is laugh at him some more and nod again, and he closes the door behind himself, looking flustered. It fills you with satisfaction to know that you put that flush on his face.

It’s been approximately thirty minutes when you hear three quick knocks on the door in the middle of shaving.

“Hello?” You call, “Hang on a sec, I’m just-”

--The door begins to open, and with a lurch of panic you realize Jungkook must never have locked the door. “I’m in the shower! I’ll be-”

“-It’s just me.”

“... Jungkook?” You squint through the steam and the frosted glass of the shower doors. The drafty rush of air from the moment he let himself in pricks cold against your skin as warm air escapes before he closes the door behind him.

“You’re taking forever in here.”

Recognition softens the sharp edge of the panic of being walked in on, but only so far. You are still naked in the shower, after all.

“What are you doing?” You blink hard a few times to clear your vision, trying to see what the blurry shape of him that moves around the bathroom is up to.

“I’m taking a shower with my girlfriend.”

“Jungkook!!” You squeak, at the same time as the shower door slides open without warning and a very naked Jungkook steps over the edge of the bathtub to join you. “Oh my god, give me a little warning, first! What the fuck!” You protest, trying to hide your blush, doing your best to cross one arm across your chest and conceal yourself by crossing your legs with what you hope is subtlety. Your right hand still grips your shaving razor.

Jungkook only laughs at you.

“I was starting to get worried there wouldn’t be time for me to take my shower, too. Will you let me get my hair wet? I’m getting cold over here.”

You step around him carefully, letting him have a turn under the warm spray, facing you. He closes his eyes and lets the water cascade over his face, sighing. You can’t help but notice the goosebumps that cover his exposed skin, and will yourself not to look down, heart thudding steady at a mile a minute.

But then, “Don’t be shy,” He says softly, with his eyes still closed. “You’ll make me feel shy.”

“O- Okay. I’ll um. Do my best,” You tell him, forcing yourself to let your hand fall from its protective place on the opposite shoulder and put the razor down while you’re at it.

Jungkook raises his arms to push his hair off his forehead, brushing it out of his eyes and smoothing it back over his scalp with his hands, muscles bunching in his arms on either side of his head.

Christ.

He’s so casually breathtaking, it’s unfair.

It makes you itch to touch, so you take a breath and just... do. You reach out, resolving to focus on him as opposed to yourself and not to overthink it, and let your hands find his shoulders, smoothing over the skin and catching the water.

You find as you do so that he seems to let out a breath as if he was holding it, relaxing some more under your touch and letting his arms fall down to his sides again.

You cradle his face in your hand and are overcome with a rush of endearment as he nuzzles your palm and leans into the touch, and slots open his eyes to read your expression.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask him softly, carding the fingers of your free hand through the wet strands.

“Mhmm,” He nods, blinking water out of his eyes, voice a low rumble that sends tremors through your very bones. “If you want.”

You want, all right.

You want.

You swallow hard around the lump your heart makes in your throat, and tamp it down as best you can.

You reach for his shampoo, only to be arrested by his quiet noise of dissent. “Can you, um.” He pinks slightly under the spray of hot water. “Can you use yours on me instead?”

“Mine?”

“I like the smell. You don’t have to.”

“No, that’s okay. We can use mine.”

You lather your hands in your favorite fragrant shampoo, managing to remember at the last second that you don’t need as much product for him as you’d use yourself, and start to work the sudsy mess gently into Jungkook’s hair, pulling him towards you and out from directly under the shower head.

A look of absolute peace crosses Jungkook’s face, and he lets out a happy sigh as you massage his scalp with your fingertips, the gorgeous scent filling your noses.

The smell of this shampoo accounts for approximately ninety percent of the reason you buy it, something like lemon, like jasmine, like roses, or lilies maybe. Light and beautiful with a gentle musky scent underpinning it all, grounding the rest of the floral notes in something quietly sultry.

And maybe... if you’re being honest, you’ve been a drugstore shampoo girl most of your life, but then one fateful day you received a sample in a bag of freebies. You tried it out once, and, yeah you were impressed with the smell, but you had every intention of using it up and going back to your old shampoo after... until later that day you leaned over Jungkook where he sat working on some project or other to ask him something.

He must have caught a whiff of your hair, because he got an odd look on his face before stammering out, “You, um. Smell really, really good, today. Whatever, uh, whatever you’re wearing.”

And what could you do then? After that glowing endorsement, you had to go out and buy the full sized bottle, and the conditioner with it. You didn’t have a choice, as far as you were concerned, even though you’re pretty sure your bank account shed actual tears over it, which is weird, because it’s primarily an abstract concept and lacks tear ducts or the emotional ability to grapple with the idea of loss.

Anyway, it’s been a feature in your shower ever since.

None of that matters, now, though, because now you have Jungkook with you, right before your very eyes, melting into putty in your hands in real time, and five minutes ago he called you his girlfriend for the first time and you’re, perhaps, possibly, potentially not over it.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to the incredibly intimidating Sephora employee with the red extensions for dropping that sample in your bag before moving on with your romantic moment. You really came through for me, girl. Amen. Let’s get back to what’s important.

What’s important is the freckle under Jungkook’s lip. You may be nearsighted, but his face is pretty damn near right now. His mouth is directly in your line of sight, and it is begging to be kissed, from where you’re standing.

You ask, “Ready to rinse?”

Jungkook nods, a close-lipped smile on his face. You guide him back under the water, gently coaxing his head this way and that and keeping up your scalp massage until all the suds are washed away, leaving only silky clean tresses and the fresh scent of citrus and flowers behind.

Then you crowd in and close the distance to attend to the freckle under his lower lip, and then his lips properly, because they’re right there, and then the tip of his nose because there’s water droplets there.

Jungkook huffs a laugh at this behavior and brings his hands up to your sides, gripping your arms and smoothing his thumbs over the skin, and that’s when you realize how cold you’ve gotten, standing on the other side of the tub and engrossed with more important things than your own comfort.

But Jungkook’s hands are warm, and the contrast has you shuddering, so you don’t fight him at all when he pulls you even closer, even when you feel the rush of sensation that accompanies your stiff nipples brushing the bare skin of his chest, because he radiates heat. Even when you sense the unmistakable press of his length between his legs against your hip.

You just push forward until the negative space is shoved aside and there’s no gap, no air at all between your body and his, and let go of the tension you’ve been holding inside. Tuck your face in the crook of his neck. Just breathe him in. Feel yourself relax a little further.

“How are you finding the water pressure?” You ask against his neck, just to be a shit.

A snort from overhead.

“Phenomenal, thank you for checking in.”

The smile steals over your face without your permission.

You graze your teeth over the skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder, just to feel him shiver, before dropping a kiss on the same spot and taking a step away briefly to squeeze conditioner into your hands, next.

His eyes on you the entire time makes your face burn, but you’re trying to ignore it. You told him you’d do your best, so by god you’re gonna fucking try.

Smoothing the same scented conditioner through his hair is the work of just a couple minutes, and when you’re done, you allow him to spin you around and trade places, until you’re in the path of the spray again.

“Your lips were starting to turn blue,” he explains. “I can’t take you out to dinner with pneumonia.”

“Thank you,” you tell him appreciatively. “Frankly I’m shocked we haven’t run out of hot water, yet.”

“God, no kidding. What were you even doing in here that was taking so long?”

“I was shaving!” You reiterate defensively, feeling your voice pitch a little higher. “Men have no idea what women go through in the name of soft legs, I swear to god. Sugar scrubs, waxing, shaving, lotions and moisturizers, electric depilatory treatments? Do not open this can of worms, Jeon Jungkook.”

He’s gazing at you openly with a wide, happy smile on his face, and he does not look at all apologetic for giving you a hard time.

“Okay, I won’t. Do you want to finish while I soap up, and then get out of here? Before, I don’t know, the winery closes and we have to have our first date at a twenty four hour McDonald’s?”

“You are a brat and a menace, Jungkook.”

“So, yes?”

“... Fine. Yes, okay.”

Luckily, you’ve already done one leg. You get Jungkook to pass you your shaving cream and take up your razor again, and begin to work the other one, starting at your ankle, focusing below the knee for now.

You’ve made some limited progress, having achieved an acceptable standard of smoothness over a small section of your shin when Jungkook makes a shocked noise and you whip your head up to look at him, wide eyed with worry.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He pauses, his upper body dripping with foaming bubbles from the soap he’s been vigorously scrubbing with for the past minute. “Nothing, I just... oh my god, you can’t see what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You’re, like, shaving by feel.” He gestures with the bar of soap in his hand, “That’s why this takes you so long. Oh my god that is so dangerous.”

“What? I can see, kind of. There’s lather here and there’s no lather here. I took my contacts out, I’m not blind.”

“You are blind. I have personally witnessed you mistake Tae for me before with your contacts out.”

“Oh my god, one time! You’re the same height! His hair was dyed the same color as yours for a while! You share pajamas sometimes! It was a reasonable mistake to make.”

“Technically, Tae is taller than me, but I’ll take it. Give me that.”

“Give you... what? No! It’s not dangerous, I’ve been shaving this way since I was thirteen years old. I know what I’m doing. You, on the other hand, do not.”

“I bet I can help. We can make this go faster.”

“Jungkook...”

“Please?”

Jungkook has apparently figured out that you’re weak at close range. He crowds back into your space, making sure you can clearly see the puppy dog eyes he levels you with when he murmurs, “Let me help?”

And then he starts to sink to his knees, and then the panic starts to set in.

Oh, holy shit. His hand is wrapped around your lower thigh, not far above your knee, but high enough to scramble all your thoughts. And now his face is level with your midsection, and he looks up at you to maintain eye contact, expression open, hopeful, and faintly challenging. Like he’s daring you to tell him no.

You take a deep breath.

“It’s just me,” He said when he walked in. “Just me.”

It’s just Jungkook.

Jungkook, who sleeps with his mouth open and unironically enjoys Justin Bieber.

Jungkook, who handles you like he’s holding the whole world in his arms.

Jungkook, with his bunny smile and his big heart and his sparkling eyes.

Jungkook, who told you yesterday he’s in love with you.

With you of all people. You don’t know how you managed it. You’re not going to ask. You’re just going to hang on with both hands and be grateful.

On one hand, there is no “just,” when it comes to him. On the other hand... the implicit trust and safety you feel when he’s with you is enough to keep you afloat in the ocean of anxiety and insecurity you occupy.

He says he loves you. You trust him and therefore you have to believe what he told you was true. And therefore there’s no reason to be self conscious.

You hand him your razor.

“If I come out the other side of this looking like Edward Scissorhands I reserve the right to retaliate as I see fit. If I don’t get out unscathed neither do you, got it?”

Jungkook accepts his victory with a satisfied smile and a kiss pressed to the crease of your hip that makes you jump.

Jungkook just laughs at you and cautions, “Don’t do that when I start.”

“I’m,” You start, and then find you need to swallow a couple times in order to be able to get the sentence out. “I won’t. It was just a reflex.”

“Got it all out of your system?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.”

He shifts his weight to one side, so that he’s down on one knee, like a parody of a proposal, which you don’t think about, not even for one second. You certainly don’t notice the way the soap on his torso drips down over his abdomen, or between his legs, while he’s otherwise occupied. Certainly not.

Jungkook’s fingers dip behind your knee to encourage you to lift your leg, and with the hand with the razor between his thumb and forefinger he uses the other fingers to tap his elevated knee, shaking his hair out of his eyes and blinking a few times, telling you wordlessly to prop your foot up. You carefully settle the arch of your foot over his knee, balancing with one hand on the shower wall.

Most of the shaving cream has rinsed off while you were talking, but he just grabs the can and lathers up a new palmful of foam. Glances up at you.

“You trust me, right?” He smiles.

It knocks all the air out of your chest like a sucker punch to the gut. This distinct lack of oxygen leaves it notably difficult to speak so you just... nod.

Because you do.

Trust him.

Body, mind and soul.

Too much, probably.

Then, carefully, he presses the razor gently against your lower leg, and drags it with even pressure all the way up to your knee. He pauses when he gets there, flicks his wrist to dislodge the pile of foam, rinses the razor head under the running water and repeats the same action, a little to the left.

You remind yourself to breathe.

He doesn’t go over the same areas twice, as you would if the razor was in your own hand, but whether that’s because he can actually see the hairs with his stupid perfect vision, or because you have better technique after all your years of shaving, remains to be seen. You sniff to yourself. You’ll be the judge of this little experiment.

To his credit, he does seem to know he needs to go top-to-bottom, against the direction the hairs grow, for the closest shave. (A skeptical voice in your head says, maybe he just saw you doing it that way, and he’s copying you. That’s also possible.)

In what you have to admit is record time, he’s finished. Carefully navigating your knee, cautious not to nick the skin with the sharp blades, all the way around your calf, fingers pressing little divots into your skin to persuade you to rotate your ankle this way and that.

He wraps both hands around your lower leg, then, dragging his fingers up and down, smoothing away the remains of the shaving cream and feeling for stray hairs.

He seems to find one or two places where stubble catches the pads of his hands, and he picks up the razor again to thoroughly remove them.

“See?” You chide from above, unable to quash the urge to be childish, “You’re using feel, too.”

He looks up at you, and when you catch his eye, you stick out your tongue.

Jungkook appears not to expect this and laughs in what could either be surprise or disbelief, then retorts,

“Maybe. But you can’t deny I’m faster. And anyway, maybe I just wanted the excuse to touch you.” He smiles, sneaky and self satisfied, mouth pressed to the inner side of your knee, having rinsed the majority of the soap away.

Your carefully measured breathing stutters, hard.

You flick him in the forehead admonishingly, in the fervent hope it won’t show.

“Jeon Jungkook, I can’t believe you had ignoble intentions.”

“I have nothing but ignoble intentions. I’m all ignoble, all the time. Can I keep going?”

You roll your eyes, but find yourself nodding anyway.

The process continues.

This time, he soaps up your upper leg and his fingers graze the crease of your inner thigh, brushing your bikini area before sliding briskly back down toward your knee.

You forget how to breathe for those few milliseconds.

His gently trailing fingers tickle, skin sensitive, and it makes you feel like squirming. You try not to.

Jungkook is done shaving your thigh quicker than you were prepared for, and before you know it he’s setting the razor aside, cupping his hands to catch a pool of warm water and smoothing them over the freshly shaved skin, rinsing away the remaining lather from your hip all the way down to your feet. He repeats this motion two more times, until he’s satisfied he hasn’t missed any spots and the soap has disappeared down the drain.

You’ve been working hard this whole time to keep your thoughts chaste and minimize your body’s physiological reactions to having the man of your dreams, on his knees, utterly naked, soaking wet, between your legs, and running his hands all over your bare skin.

It’s been an effort, you’re not going to lie.

All aforementioned effort goes to waste immediately when he bends forward to plant a kiss on your shin, only to relocate his lips an inch higher after a moment, over and over until he’s kissing his way up your leg past your knee and continuing on to lavish increasingly open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, letting your foot find purchase again on the floor of the tub and scooting forward on his knees, following the path your inseam would take if you’d been wearing jeans. The catch is you’re very, very much not wearing jeans.

“Jungkook,” you stutter, reaching for him warningly, “Jungkook, what-”

You’re interrupted by your own hiss when he abruptly decides to take a small patch of skin high on your leg, just short of very dangerous territory, between his teeth and tug, closing his lips over the area and groaning softly. Arousal shoots through you for all the world like the first crack of thunder in a brewing storm; the one-two punch of a lightning strike of pleasure that curls deep in your belly and the subsequent answering heat and the slick feeling of wetness between your folds following a moment later like thunder, playing catch-up to the bolt from the blue.

Harbingers of an imminent downpour.

He releases the spot to switch to laving it with his tongue, so, so soft and an immediate contrast to the sharp sting of teeth over the quickly reddening area, and casts his eyes up to meet your gaze, just as you take his hair between your fingers, slippery with conditioner and falling, piecey, into his eyes.

“Is it later, yet?” he asks.

“Is it... what? Later?”

“Yeah, is it later, yet?” When he sees that you’re not immediately getting it, he prods, “I locked the door, this time. I promise.” And then he’s smiling, mischievous, running a palm up each of your thighs and then down again, hands wide and warm, eventually coming up again to reach around and smooth daringly over your ass before drawing away again to repeat the motion from start to finish, while you think.

It actually makes it rather difficult to think, but still, somehow, something clicks with the way he words it.

Oh.

Oh.

You don’t know why you thought you’d have more time to mentally prepare for this actually happening.

And, like he can read your mind, or maybe just like he’s just being his usual, spectacularly kind, considerate self, because that’s just what he’s like, he sits back on his heels and grips your knees, thumbing the sides of your legs gently and says, “You can tell me no. If it’s... if this is too soon.”  

But maybe that’s the thing.

Maybe finding out Jungkook likes you, too, is new.

And maybe remembering, freshly each time, that you can do things like voice those inner thoughts that are less platonic, more, “if-I-tell-you-this-there’s-no-way-you-won’t-know.”

Maybe that’s still a learning process.

But you have been pathetically in love with Jungkook for a long, long time. There have been an awful lot of opportunities for lying in bed, alone with your imagination, trying and failing to get off with the sole aid of your fingers and a faceless figment.

No matter how many times you told yourself it didn’t feel right to think of him in those moments, a real person, an ideal roommate, a good friend, your carefully nonspecific fantasy fails, night after night. It cracks and breaks until it features strong thighs, tan skin, a distinct cupid’s bow, familiar eyebrows, freckles, moles, and leaves you gasping for air, struggling to keep quiet; falling apart so that you can finally drift off to a sleep filled with heartbreakingly realistic dreams.

And the cumulative result of all those nights is... no, you don’t want to tell him no. You have waited and wanted for too fucking long.

Last night after you slipped out of Jungkook’s bed, fled to your own room to dispose of the evidence, re-emerged and pretended to be as unrattled and composed as always for the benefit of company, you found yourself left alone in your own bed again, the phantom press of Jungkook’s lips still tangible on your own mouth. The ghost of his hips crushed hard against yours. Heartbeat erratic with the memory of it all.

You barely slept.

Every instinct you had screamed that you needed to get up and sneak back into Jungkook’s room. His bed. His arms. But you stretched the thin remainder of all that was left of your threadbare self control and stayed rooted in place, all night.

You woke up in the morning, at a reasonable time, like a reasonable person.

You shook off the tiredness, and went to work, like an adult.

But now... right now it’s extremely difficult to call to mind whatever reasoning it was that kept you tethered to your own bed, hot, panting breaths muffled by the back of your own left hand against every vivid memory Jungkook left etched on the backs of your eyelids.

Jungkook and his hands. His mouth. His dark eyes.

His hair fucked up beyond fixing from your hands in it, his lips red and used looking from kissing all sense straight out of your ears.

The sound of his stuttered breathing. His moans.

His expression as he came.

Here and now, you press your lips tight together on a moan that Jungkook nonetheless hears, and he’s looking at you, patiently, but expectantly, waiting for a green light on your terms.

So you do your best to give him one.

“I- Okay. It, uh, can be later, now.”

“Yeah?” And then, one more time, because he’s good, good, good, he asks, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I want it. I want you,” You assure him, brushing back his fringe again, letting every overflowing drop of adoration in you bleed into the touch, and leaving it up to hope that he can feel it.

By the look he gives you, you dare to think maybe... maybe he can. You add softly, “Make me feel good, Jungkookie.”

“I can. I will,” He says, sitting up, pressing closer, eyes shining and determined. “Wanna make you feel so good.”

Jungkook nuzzles his whole face into the crease of your hip then, mouthing at your skin in the same way that made you jump the first time, and then adding a press of tongue that has you biting your cheek hard to stifle your vocal reaction.

Taehyung is presumably still home, adrift in the apartment somewhere within hearing range.

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this with your dignity and the ability to look him in the eye intact, but right now the need curling in your gut is stronger than that worry and you just can’t bring yourself to put a stop to this solely on account of that.

Jungkook murmurs against your skin, “Can you hook your leg over my shoulder?” So you comply, letting him guide you into shifting your weight onto one foot. “Hang onto something,” he cautions.

Jungkook’s mouth travels, measured but eager, closing the distance until his nose presses against your pubic bone and his mouth is centered over your core, at which point he pauses, makes deliberate eye contact with you, spreads your folds with the fingers of his right hand, and at that same measured pace, licks upward and then closes his mouth over your clit in a wet kiss with a tantalizing amount of suction.

The one knee holding you up threatens to buckle almost immediately. You tighten your grip on the shower bar, rocking your hips involuntarily towards Jungkook’s face and whimpering his name.

He looks pleased at this reaction, smiles up at you again to ask, “Yeah?” his two fingers sliding along your lips and between them exploratively. His touch is tentative, and his fingers a little cold, and it makes you shiver.

You hum in the affirmative and reach for his hand with yours, and he lets you take his wrist with a question in his eyes that first clears up with understanding and then immediately clouds over with thick lust when you suck his fingers, wet with water and your own arousal, into your mouth, taking them as far as the second knuckle.

It’s a little besides the point, but just to be extra suggestive you cover your teeth carefully with your lips, tonguing his index and middle fingers separately and then together, leaving no question what you’re implying by the motions, letting his fingertips graze the back of your tongue and then releasing them with an exaggerated pop, only to suck his middle and ring fingers in between your lips and repeat it all over again, finishing with his thumb and lavishing it with special attention, treating it as much like you’d like to treat his cock as you possibly can.

You hear his throat click as he swallows dry at either the visual or the feeling or both, along with a whispered, “fuck,” and it gives you a distinct rush of satisfaction.

While you’re licking long stripes up each finger, as lewd as possible, you notice his breathing has gone ragged, and that’s when you deem the job done well enough and use your grip to draw his hand down, letting his spit slick fingers trail over your chin, and neck, allowing him to feel the swell of your breast under his fingertips and eventually reclaim his hand.

“Oh, wow. Jesus Christ, you really are going to kill me,” he stammers breathlessly, taking your own hand and kissing the back of it, eyes closed and breathing hard through his nose for a long spell before letting go.

It’s at this point that you offer by way of explanation, “Your hands were cold.”  

Cheeky, and you know it, but it seems to have had the intended effect.

Jungkook is nearly gasping with feverish determination, eyes heavy-lidded with the same need you can see throbs red and hard between his legs.

He moans immediately upon getting his mouth back on you again, sending low waves of vibrations coursing through your nerve endings and making you push back against him and gasp.

His tongue is so soft, alternately pointed while he draws nonsense patterns over your clit, lips spread with his thumb, and flat and broad as he licks fat stripes up and down your center.

He uses his first and middle fingers to apply tantalizing pressure to your slit just outside your entrance, teasing like he might slide inside at any time and it has you biting your lower lip on a whimper.

Then his tongue is back to flitting soft and continuous over the hood of your clit, and his left hand relinquishes its hold on the swell of your ass to splay his fingers over your abdomen, and lend his thumb to gently expose it to his licks directly.

The shock of the sensation is so powerful your hips jerk, unsure if they want to buck into the stimulation or away, but Jungkook winds his right arm tight around you, effectively stopping you from escaping his mouth and the onslaught of fervent licks and kisses. Pleasure surges through your body in acute waves.

“Oh, god,” you gasp, desperate. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, oh my fucking god.”

Jungkook just looks up at you through his eyelashes, wraps his lips around your clit, and sucks hard enough that his cheeks hollow briefly.

“Fffffffuck!” you cry out, teeth buried hard in your lip to try to minimize the volume. Attempt failed. If Taehyung hasn’t heard you already, he definitely did just now.

Fumbling, you reach behind you to turn off the water. It’s begun to run lukewarm, and if earlier you left it on in the hope that it might cover some of the noise, well, it’s too late now.

You succeed after some scrabbling to stem the flow of the tap and then bury your hand back in Jungkook’s hair, doing your best with your tenuous grip and the leg wrapped around his shoulders to direct him where you need him most, and keep him there.

Jungkook doesn’t protest in the slightest, just moans in approval and redoubles his efforts.

You find yourself moaning with abandon, head thrown back toward the ceiling when Jungkook pulls back a bit, breathing hard. He draws his right hand back around to tease you with his fingers again, slicking one finger at a time in your dripping arousal until all his fingers are coated in it, slippery and clear.

“... Look how wet you are for me,” he says then, voice thick. You let your head fall forward again, hair falling around your face as you train your eyes on him. You can feel it, you definitely are astonishingly wet. You aren’t sure you’ve ever been so wet, with the possible exception of yesterday when Jungkook came in your lap. You had ended up having to change not only your panties, but your jeans as well, having soaked clear through the layer of denim, after all.

The image of him with his face between your thighs and fresh bruises starting to bloom on your skin, mouth red and abused, does nothing to staunch the flow.

“Only you do this to me, baby,” you tell him, feeling more than hearing his sharp intake of breath in the sudden coolness in its wake. The breath he releases then comes out in a shudder, ghosting warm over your core.

Then, “Don’t tell me that if it isn’t true.”

You blink, because of course it is, and then you’re falling all over yourself trying to find the words to convince him.

“It’s true, oh my god, it is true. Nobody has- has ever- oh--”

Jungkook chooses that exact moment to slide one finger home, burying it all the way to the last knuckle inside you without preamble. “Fucking hell, Jungkook. Nobody but you has ever made me so... You don’t know what you- what you, oh god. What you do t- to me,” you stutter with effort as he begins to pump that finger steadily in and out.

“What do I do to you?” he asks, voice much too steady for your liking.

Jesus Christ. All right, if this is the game he wants to play, you’ll play.

You tighten your grip on his hair, wrenching his head back, and take a deep breath.

“The last time I came it was bouncing on a toy, alone, in the dark, in my room moaning your name, Jungkook.”

You watch his lips fall into a pretty, pretty O shape on a moan, blinking hard at the sharp clarity of pain in his scalp and starting to form a mental image.

“Oh,” is all he says, but then he takes that opportunity to slide a second finger in alongside the first, the stretch easy with how turned on you are already.

You’re more prepared this time, though, and you push your hips down on the intrusion, squeezing around his fingers and groaning at how good it feels to be filled.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Do you know what, though?” You have to pause and let out a breathy moan through Jungkook beginning to curl his fingers, aiming directly for your g spot and finding it much more easily than he should have been able to, but you power on. “Now that I have a better idea what I’m dealing with, I think I bought a toy too --ah, fuck --too small. Because your cock is b-bigger.” You let your gaze fall to his straining erection, deliberately, making sure he can see you do it.

You kind of can’t believe he hasn’t touched himself at all.

Dimly, you remember an echo of words he spoke yesterday. “I want to make it about you.”

Maybe it’s mean of you to get him so worked up.

A vivid memory presents itself abruptly, Jungkook moaning, asking to touch himself, asking to touch you, asking to come, eventually begging, seeking permission every step of the way. A shudder of arousal ripples through you.

Mean? Maybe. But god, it is fun to rile him up.

Jungkook’s eyes threaten to glaze over, half lidded and dark, dark. Still being so good, still denying himself the relief of any kind of friction. You continue, “It’s thicker, and I bet it would fill me up so-” You’re interrupted by your own moan on a particularly hard thrust, “-Fill me up so good. You make me come so, oh, god, so fucking hard when you’re not even there, baby. I only ever think about you. Can’t... can’t get off unless it’s you. Wanna feel you for real.” By the end of this confession you’re properly gasping, and Jungkook looks painfully hard, dick angry red and curved up against his ridiculously toned abdomen.

“Yeah. Yeah, want that.” Jungkook’s eyes are glinting with steel, eyelashes clumped together with water, gazing up at your face. “I want it. Wanna make you come.”

“You’re gonna, Jungkook, baby, fuck, I- oh, god. I’m close. You’re gonna make me come. Just don’t, oh fucking shit don’t stop!”

Jungkook broaches your entrance with a third finger, burying his face in your mound at the same time and lapping at your clit with devastating pressure. He plunges his fingers in and out at tempo with the motions of his tongue at first, making you choke on a cry.

He pulls back again after a minute, directly contradicting you begging him not to stop, but it’s in order to switch to curving all three fingers mercilessly against your g spot and tell you, “Want you to say my name,” in the darkest tone of voice you’ve ever heard out of him.

“Jungkook,” you whimper immediately, almost more out of reaction to the buildup of pressure in your core, threatening to peak at any moment, than out of obedience, but maybe it’s a little of both.

“Mhmm,” he says, kissing your clit and making you jolt on his arms and gasp. “I think you can be louder, though.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook wait-” you start, only to cut yourself off with an honest-to-god wail, as he starts to jackhammer his wrist, pounding your most sensitive spot until you fall forward, leg nearly giving out and leaning all your weight on his shoulders. The sound of it is obscene, squelching noise mortifyingly loud in the small, echoing space, and it feels so fucking good you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed, the filthiness of it just turns you on more.

You feel yourself about to lurch headfirst into your orgasm when Jungkook says, eyes glued to your face, “Look at me. Go ahead and let Taehyung hear you. The neighbors too. Let them know how fucking good I make you feel and exactly who’s doing it to you.” And then he bends forward and sucks your clit into his soft mouth and hollows out his cheeks, and you can’t help but give him exactly what he asks for, just like always.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, that’s so good, oh, fuck, fuck fuck fuck Jungkook, Jungkook!”

You come with what feels like all the force of a particle collision at CERN, the kind that propels protons at each other to create controlled replications of the big bang. Is that too much of an exaggeration? It doesn’t feel like one to you. You’ve never come that hard in your fucking life. It hits you like a fucking truck.

It leaves you shaking with aftershocks, gasping, and sliding down the side of the bathtub to the floor with Jungkook, and he eventually withdraws his fingers but won’t take his mouth off you, following you all the way down, easing your way by supporting your weight and going straight back to suckling mercilessly at your oversensitive cunt and laving it with broad licks once you’re flat on your back, as your hips jerk involuntarily and you babble at him to stop while he chuckles, self satisfied.

You drag him up your body to kiss you on the mouth, chest heaving and slowly regaining the ability to see with, like, colors.

Gradually it comes to you that you’re murmuring out loud in between kisses, making Jungkook blush and tuck his chin, saying things like, “Baby, you’re so good for me, so incredible, I’m so lucky. My good boy. My knees feel like they’ve been replaced with jello. You’re beautiful.”  

And Jungkook is saying, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus christ, you’re unbelievable. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I am, I’m yours,” you reply immediately. “Are you kidding? That was amazing. You’re never going to be able to get rid of me after this.”

“Mm. Good,” he says, kissing down your neck. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Oh, god, that was greasy.” You groan, but it comes out in a laugh.

He presses one last kiss on the slope of one of your breasts, holding up his right hand, covered in creamy slick from your release.

“You put on quite a show.”

You think you know what’s coming, and you’re still aroused enough to moan and flatten out your tongue for him when he brings his fingers up to your mouth and proves you right. It’s absolutely filthy, and you’ve leaked so much it drips down Jungkook’s palm all the way to his wrist.

You make sure you don’t break eye contact, lapping all the way from his wrist to the tip of his middle finger, and when he growls and grips your chin with the same hand, kissing you hungrily, you let him, helplessly turned on. It leaves sticky streaks where his fingers gripped you when he lets go. When he breaks the kiss again you suck his fingers back into your mouth, letting him fuck them down your throat until you almost gag, and your eyes water.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, and in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’re happy to let the praise wash over you. He kisses you soundly, and even though you imagine his tongue must be tired, it brushes against yours, indulgent.

“I can’t believe you didn’t touch yourself that whole time,” you mutter against his lips.

Jungkook smiles, looking quietly proud of his self restraint but he plays it down when he simply says, “Told you. Not about me.”

“Mmm. You’re going to ruin me for anyone else, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me,” he replies, and that... that sounds pretty good to you.

“Will you let me suck you off?” You ask, looking up at him, hovering just over you.

Jungkook’s head falls back, wet hair brushing his shoulder blades, before shaking his head firmly, as if it pains him to do it.

“Nope. We’ve been in here long enough as it is. I might as well have let you shave by yourself because this hasn’t saved us any time at all.”

“... All right, first of all, all of this was your idea. The shaving, and the... everything else,” you trip over your sentence, back to blushing.

“Oh god, this again? You’re shy on me again?” Jungkook teases, sitting up and reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. You’re still a little wobbly, but you find your balance with your hands on his forearms.

He saves you from needing to reply, also conveniently redirecting the conversation away from how any time-wasting activities, or actions that led to them, were, in fact, his fault entirely, by turning on the shower again with no warning whatsoever, dousing you both unexpectedly in cold water, which makes you yelp and Jungkook tense up reflexively.

His grip on you turns iron and a shit eating grin crosses his face. He refuses to let you squirm out of his arms and escape the icy first few minutes of the water heating back up. He at least seems to be taking the brunt of the onslaught, but you’re still subjected to the cold. You’re struggling with all your power, but you might as well be trapped in a vise.

“Jungkook!! Jeon Jungkook I am going to kill you. I am going to take this bath towel and I am going to strangle you with it. I will leave your body where they will never find it and I will cut off your testicles and mail them to your mother. Don’t make me do that, I actually love your mother. She’s a godsend. Don’t make me, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook!”

And Jungkook just... laughs, his whole body shaking with it, and adjusts his grip so that your arms are trapped against your sides, hugging you to himself and in the process dragging you further into the spray.

Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t take your threats seriously if you were Jungkook, either, considering you were giggling and gasping through your entire delivery.

“I swear to god, if you think you’re still getting your dick sucked now you have got another thing coming,” you warn with as much gravity as you can summon up while your teeth are chattering.

“No, no, I told you. I don’t need that. I don’t have to get off every time I get hard. Do you know how many times I would have had to get up and leave when I’m spending time with you if I felt like I needed to follow through with it every time I popped a boner?” (... And, like, is ‘awww’ the right way to react to that, or?) “That was like, lowkey the point of this.” He gestures with his head toward the shower head. “Haven’t you ever heard of a cold shower?”

Slowly, you ease up on squirming. The water is approaching a reasonable temperature now. You slump against him, energy depleted entirely.

“... Still gonna kill you.”

Jungkook kisses your forehead.

“Okay. Can you do it after you help me rinse this conditioner out of my hair?”

You push out your lower lip, lifting your head to look up at him petulantly with your eyebrows drawn, pouting as hard as you can to communicate your displeasure, but nod.

True to Jungkook’s reasoning behind standing under the freezing water, his erection has flagged considerably, although maybe it would have been more effective for him if you had wiggled a little less the whole time. He’s gone from angry, almost purple-red, and rock hard with the veins popping desperately, to something closer to half hard, a slightly less aggressive shade of red.

Still mouthwatering. Despite what you said, you’d still love to get your mouth on him.

Jungkook clears his throat, “Do you think you could not, like, look at it like that. You’re making it hard to... hard. You’re making me hard again.”

You snap your eyes back up to his face, feeling your whole face heat up.

“Sorry! Sorry. Um. Conditioner. Out. Right.”

You take his face in both hands and guide him to tipping his head back, letting the warming water cascade over his hair and angling it to avoid getting any in his eyes, which slide closed while you work.

When your fingers first find his face, both your hands and his skin are cold, but they warm gradually.

Your fingers slide easy and soft through his hair, utterly silky after having left the product in for so long.

Jungkook hums, happy, when you scritch your fingernails gently over his scalp.

You’re beginning to notice a trend, here.

“You’ve got a little bit of a thing for having your hair played with, don’t you, baby?” you jibe lightly.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat in retorting without bothering to open his eyes, “Yeah, well, you seem to have a bit more than just a little thing for playing with my hair. What a coincidence.”

“How serendipitous,” you concede, smiling and giving in to the magnetic pull that drags you to his lips for a brief kiss.

You’re feeling a little floaty, a little high, a lot lucky. A lot blessed.

Together you rinse off thoroughly, taking turns, before shutting off the water for good.

You take a moment to send up a silent apology to mother earth for the water that was definitely wasted during the time you and your boyfriend spent canoodling in the shower.

In your defense, the amount of water wasted in one shower for two people is outrageously outweighed by the volume of waste produced by the corporations responsible for fast-tracking global warming, but that thought doesn’t really serve to ease your guilt by much.

Jungkook jumped into your shower without remembering to bring his own towel, so you share the one you keep on the rack. Jungkook unceremoniously flings it over your head, blocking out the light and completely obscuring your vision, and then with his fingers scrunches the towel on either side of your head to gently wring out your hair, gradually bunching the fabric in his hands until your face is back in view, making a hood out of it and squishing your cheeks together when you try to glare at him.

“Cute,” he coos, making a goofy face to mimic your smooshed one, dripping water onto the floor all the while.

“Death wish,” you mutter, otherwise resigning yourself to being squished with only a deep sigh in protest. When he’s satisfied with mushing your cheeks and finally lets go, you ask, “Hey, do you think we can pick up some butter while we’re at the store? I know we aren’t out yet and it’s not on the list, but there’s a cake recipe I want to try out, and once I use the butter we’ve got for frosting, there won’t be any left.”

“What? Nooo, the grocery run can wait.” Jungkook protests.

“But why?”

“It’s not part of the date! Errands are not romantic.”

“Why can’t it be? Grocery shopping can be romantic.”

Jungkook snorts.

“Can not.”

“Sure it can! We’ll go together, you can hold my hand the whole time.” You wiggle your eyebrows, voice lilting, doing your best to paint a picture for him, “It’ll be domestic and adorable. We can get a cart and I’ll sit in the basket with my arms out like this and you can push me around and I’ll pretend like I’m flying. Romantic! Now that,” You punctuate the word with a forefinger to his sternum, “-Is a scene that could be in a Ryan Gosling movie.”

Jungkook considers this proposal with his eyes narrowed. He has been known to enjoy a Ryan Gosling movie.

“Why can’t I be the one who flies?”

“You?”

“Yeah, me.”

“But you’re heavy. And you’re the one with the big muscles. Perfect for pushing.”

“I wanna fly,” he insists.

You give in, all too easy, as soon as he levels his big, sad eyes at you, which he may or may not even mean to do.

“... Okay, okay, fine. You can sit in the shopping cart and I will push your beefy ass around. So we can do the grocery trip? Maybe on the way home? They’re open late.”

“Well... I guess we do owe Tae some yogurts. Especially after what he just heard,” Jungkook smirks.

You shove the towel in his face.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, indignant, “That was all your fault!”

Jungkook just laughs, catching the towel before it drops to the floor and beginning to dry his own hair without an iota of shame.

“Hell yeah, it was.”

“Oh my god, don’t,” You reach out in retaliation, trying to land a thwack in the general area of his pecs somewhere and he dodges you with infuriatingly little effort.

Then, “All ignoble, all the time.” He’s laying the dialect on thick and quirking his eyebrows, and you can’t help but snort, against your will because you’re trying to stay stony faced.

That’s it, and then you’re both off, laughing uncontrollably and struggling to breathe between bouts of giggles.

Finally, when you’re both dry, the problem arises of how to make it back out into your respective rooms to get dressed without putting dirty clothes back on and with only one towel between you.

Jungkook solves the issue by wrapping the towel under his arms and then wrapping himself snug around you behind your back, warm as a space heater. He arranges the towel carefully to obscure you from above your breasts to just above mid-thigh, and waddles you both through the bathroom door, back to front, out in a cloud of steam through the living room, past Taehyung’s emphatic middle finger, and into Jungkook’s room, where you let Jungkook disentangle his arms and drop him off with a quick kiss.

He smells intoxicating.

He smells clean.

He smells like you. You shiver.

You reclaim the towel, slip back into your own room, and begin to prepare for the night ahead.

Something tells you there’s a chance you might not have to sleep alone tonight.

You bite your lip, alone in your room, and smile.

[caps-lockdown]

Candy Corn Blues

Hey everyone here’s another one shot for Spooktober! It’s short and sweet (pun intended) hope you all enjoy it!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female Reader

Ratings: PG 13 (Language, booze). All Fluff, already established relationship with Steve.

Words: 2,447

Summary: Why does everyone have to pick on Steve about his candy choices?

(Don’t own anything, except the reader. This was not endorsed by any candy companies. No beta either, so have fun finding mistakes. I’m sure there’s some.)

Candy Corn Blues

It was the second week in October when you arrived home from a mission with Steve. It had gone easy enough. Some minor cuts and bruises, but you returned to the Compound with the information you needed to stop a known terrorist from blowing up another building full of important people at another important gala in Washington. You’d care more if they hadn’t gotten so predictable lately. You were happy to do the job, but this mission was cutting into your favorite time of year. That bugged you.

You were entering the loud living area after a much needed shower, smile on your lips as you overheard your teammates continuing the discussion from earlier in the Quinjet.

“I’m telling you guys, Snickers is OBVIOUSLY the best Halloween candy.” Bucky rolled his eyes, sipping from his mug of coffee. How that man could drink that sludge this late was beyond you. But then again, it had been a pretty long night for all of you. And it’s not like alcohol would do anything to him. Sam remained firm in his opinion, shoulders tense as he stood his ground.

Tony scoffed, “Again you’re wrong Wilson, Reese’s pumpkins are by far the better candy for this time of year.” You high fived the man as you took the seat next to Steve on the overstuffed couch, giving him a quick peck before settling into his side, his arm going over your shoulders as if it had a mind of its own. “See? Y/N’s got the good sense to agree with me! Always knew you had good taste.”

“I see the debate is still in session.” You giggled as Steve fake groaned, leaning into you and resting his head on yours as you cuddled on the couch. You hadn’t really gotten a lot of time to each other the last couple weeks, the Avengers splitting up to help cover more ground on this terrorist situation. “I’ve missed you.”

The blonde man sighed into your hair, trying to ignore the scene behind him. “And I you Sweetheart.”

“Seriously Stark? Reese’s? Those taste like sawdust coated in those cheap chocolate candy melts and then left to rot for a year before they’re put on shelves.”

“Oddly descriptive Sam, “Nat pulled a face, reaching for a beer Thor was holding out for her. “Do I want to know just how you know what sawdust tastes like?”

“Har har, very funny. Just admit it, I’m right.”

“I have to disagree Samuel, I quite enjoy the taste of a Three Musketeers bar.” Thor shrugged, Bruce clicking his tongue between his teeth as he shook his head.

“Nah man, you guys are forgetting about Milky Ways!” Wanda nodded enthusiastically, not having said much most of the day, but you figured out pretty quickly she hadn’t actually eaten a lot of the candy that had been in the conversation.

It was Tony’s turn to make a face. “Banner those are almost as bad as Snickers. They might as well be sister-wives in the family of gross.”

“What about Sour Patch Kids! Ya’ll are sleeping on a classic!” You piped up from your position with your beau, the group collectively groaning and muttering “no”. “Well screw you too.”

“Hey we haven’t heard from Mr. Perfect teeth yet.” Tony jolted the man next to you out of his dozing mindset, a sheepish grin covering his face as he refused to speak. “What’s up Cap? Y/N got your tongue?”

“Crude Tony, but no. My favorite candy is none of your business.” You turned your head to look at him, swallowing his comment in your brain. You had no idea what his favorite candy was, not that he was a huge fan of sweets to begin with. You hadn’t even been dating that long, but you were certain you hadn’t asked him. “Don’t look at me like that Y/N, I’m not telling you.”

“Oh come on darling,” You cooed, trying to bait an answer out of him. “It can’t be that horrible. I’ll keep the big bad Stark away from you if it’s Snickers.” You rubbed his large forearm soothingly, the man’s face turning a slight shade of pink as he took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he sighed out the breath as if it was his death warrant, shutting his eyes to avoid everyone else’s as they waited. “It’s chicken feed.”

Your face was priceless. “Uh, what?”

“Sorry, it hasn’t been called that for awhile now I guess,” He chuckled, “Candy corn. I really love candy corn.”

The chorus of “WHAT?” and “THE FUCK ROGERS?” was deafening, Steve’s jaw tensing as he kept his eyes shut.

“Jesus Steve I know they didn’t have much back in the forties but my man, some things you can leave in the past. I wish they had left those travesties back in the eighteen-eighties.” Sam groaned out, Bucky laughing at his friend’s miserable features as Tony fake gagged.

“For once we agree Sam. Candy corn is the absolute worst thing to happen to this world since the black plague.”

“It’s just so…basic! Bland! There’s nothing to it! It’s like they made all of it back in nineteen twelve and have just been selling that one batch this whole time!”

“Pretty sure dirt has more flavor to it.”

Your face tensed as the men continued to berate your boyfriend’s choice, your hand coming over his to squeeze it gently. You knew he would shrug it off, but it still managed to get under your skin, even if they were right. “I’m sorry I asked, I don’t know how you can eat that stuff.”

“It reminds me of a simpler time. I mean there wasn’t tons of great tasting candy that was cheap back then. My ma always managed to get her hands on some and it’s just another way to remember her.” Your heart swelled as he smiled at you, blinking his eyes open. “I know it isn’t incredible, but I don’t need a bunch of ingredients or gimmicks. It’s just candy.”

“You’re sweet enough as is Rogers, I promise you that.” You muttered, watching his smile widen as he gave you another cavity inducing kiss.

Another two weeks went by in a flash, before you knew it Steve was leaving with Bucky, Sam, and Nat to go take out the terrorist. You had elected to stay behind with Tony, not feeling up to the adventure and it was going to be over too quick anyway. You had been nice enough to send him pictures of candy corn on the thirtieth, as it was the national day for it. He was quick to rub it in Sam’s face. Snickers didn’t have a holiday after all. You didn’t want to be parted from Steve, but you also didn’t want to risk missing movie night. Especially when Nat, Pepper, and you had all decorated the Tower in scary lights and creatures. Hell, Steve didn’t even want you to miss that, knowing this was your thing.

So they went to catch the bad guys while you, Pepper, Tony, and Peter Parker all sat crunched together on the sofa, watching everything from Hocus Pocus to Saw. You laughed when Pepper and Peter clung to each other, you and Tony egging on the classic slashers and cheering when teenagers met their end in terrifyingly awful and supremely dated ways.

“Holy shit!” You jumped, quickly dissipating into laughter as FRIDAY announced the team had stopped the terrorist, your heart rate calming at hearing everyone was fine and would be back tomorrow night after a meeting with the president. You opened the text window on your phone, smiling as Steve had sent you a picture of him with the team, all carving pumpkins in their hotel room a few hours later.

“Wish you were here Pumpkin.” The caption read, you snorting into your handful of popcorn, quick to take a picture of a woman mid scream on the T.V and sending it back with the attached text.

“You’re a real scream Sweetheart. See you soon.”

“Have a dreadfully good evening Doll.” Was in your window less than two seconds later. He was getting faster with his texting. Tony huffed a louder than needed “ahem”, drawing your eyes back to the T.V to watch Jamie Lee Curtis limp towards the safety of a closet.

“Man fashion sure has changed for the better hasn’t it Mister Stark?” Peter asked, the older man looking at him as if he was crazy. “What? You were alive in the seventies right?”

You and Pepper were in tears as the outraged Tony threw popcorn at the young man.

The next day you were helping Pepper take down the decorations in the tower, humming some Halloween tune to yourself as you placed the giant fake spiders and bats back in their correct boxes. The team would be back early morning tomorrow and you couldn’t wait to get some cuddle time with Steve. Tony had promised you two some R and R and you were going to have it. Even if the holidays were approaching like a bullet train. Picking up your phone you pressed the green icon next to your favorite Captain’s name, his voice coming in within a ring and a half.

“Hey Doll, you have a good night last night?”

“Yea, you? Looks like you were up to your hips in pumpkin guts.” You laughed, imagining him covered in the sticky substance.

“It was a lot of fun, you would have made it better though.”

You could feel the smile in his voice. “Well duh, this is me we’re talking about. I make everything better.”

“That you do. Going to go ransack all the stores of their Halloween clearance?” The blonde asked, frowning from his own position on the globe as yet another store didn’t carry his preferred candy. That was the fourth store. Had they stopped making it? “Hmm. This isn’t right.”

“You know me too well.” You smiled as Tony jingled the keys to his car at you, throwing you a pair of flats as you balanced the phone on your shoulder. “What’s not right?”

“I can’t find any candy corn. I was going to pick some up to hold me over til the Christmas kind comes out.”

“Awww poor baby.” You could hear Sam’s sarcasm from the other side of the line, stifling your own laughter as you got in the car. “I see they actually have sense here in Washington. Which is a big deal when you think about it.”

“Shaddup Sam,” Steve’s tone had a frustrated edge to it, and you were beginning to suspect that this was not the first comment Wilson had made during your boyfriend’s plight. “I can’t wait to see you , I’ll let you get to shopping. Tell Tony we’re gonna have pizza tomorrow so you don’t have it tonight.”

“But it’s Pizza Friday.” You complained weakly, knowing the older man was bound to throw a fit over a change in the routine.

“He’ll get over it. He likes you the most anyway, so he won’t be angry if you tell him.”

“Man you are so lucky you’re cute.” You muttered, Steve chuckling into the receiver.

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll make it up to you.” Your heart shuddered at his promise.

“You better. Sorry about your candy corn blues.”

“S’alright. Maybe you were right about me being sweet enough already.”

The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up, an idea popping into your head as you buckled your seat belt, admiring the leather of Tony's expensive car. You were even more excited to go shopping now, the billionaire almost looking worried as you bounced in your seat all the way to the first store.

The next day Steve and his team dragged their exhausted bodies from the Quinjet, the mission that took nearly a month to complete heavy on their minds as they decompressed from the stress.  The press event with the President had been worse. How that was possible none of them knew. To say they were happy to be home was an understatement. Rogers had actually dreamt of his bed the last couple nights, more specifically the woman who was in the bed. You hadn’t been dating for more than six months yet but he was already head first and heart deep in love with you. Everything you did was so effortless and gentle. You always thought of him, putting him and others before yourself. He admired your strength, as you didn’t need serum or powers to kick ass. He always had a weakness for powerful women though.

He didn’t bother turning on the light when he entered his room, stripping off his clothes and promptly passing out on his bed, taking note you weren’t there to greet him. Probably smart for you to sleep in your room, as it was nearly three in the morning.

He woke up to the biggest shock of his life.

The light streamed into his room like the sun had made it its own personal mission to make sure Steve would go blind. Standing up, he yawned, rubbing his eyes before they widened in surprise.

His room was crawling in candy corn. Containers and bags of it flooded his floor and chair next to his bed. There were even a couple of bags on his bed. How could he have slept through all of this? He must have been more tired than he thought. There was a pumpkin shaped container nearly overflowing with the sugary confection on his nightstand, little packets meant for trick or treaters hanging out of his shoes. A knock at his door startled the man, Steve carefully stepping over the obnoxiously bright orange bags on the floor as he opened the door.

You lowered a large pillow in the shape of his favorite treat, large grin on your face. “Morning. Do you think this will hold you over til Christmas?”

He laughed hard at that, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you breathless.

“Doll, you’re the absolute sweetest. Thank you.”

“Anytime Captain. Now as I recall you have some making up to do.” You whispered suggestively, Steve taking the hint and closing the door behind you, smile never leaving his eyes.

The End.

Taglist: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 9

oh goody!

well this is it. the Date Chapter. the chapter, in which, the Date happens. lowkey im so fucking hype for this stupid goddamn chapter AAAAAAAAAAAA this is when the sexy got kicked up about seven notches and i know its gonna be a fucking twenty from here on out so LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

“Is this your date, Ms. Fall?” he asked.

Cinder didn’t look away from Glynda. “Mhm.”

STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GODDAMN GATE WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SECOND TO EVEN GATHER OURSELVES JUST STRAIGHT UP HUH!!!!!!!!! ‘is this your date’ im legally dead

What the fuck.

already im fucking THRIVING im so glad this chapter’s mood got encapsulated within the first ten seconds and im definitely gonna have to re-read this chapter for the full unannotated experience OOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO READY

Glynda’s thoughts ricocheted inside her head like coins left in a dryer. A part of her couldn’t understand what was happening and disengaged. The rest of her, grasping for purchase in all this, reasoned that going with Cinder was better than staying here confused, alone, and utterly displaced.

glynda ‘i aint ever had a gf before’ goodwitch at her PEAK right here. like GOD shes gone from ‘cinder’s trying to murder me’ to ‘cinder just plopped me right into a date’ like CINDER. CINDER YR CHANGING GEARS SO FAST. YOU DIDNT EVEN SEND FLOWERS OR ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it because shes a u-haul lesbian or

Higher, Glynda realized the dress itself was backless, revealing the black tattoo she’d seen so often before, perfectly centered between sharp shoulder blades.

this gay energy is BONKERS, quite frankly??????? where did cinder get her dress from? why does she have it? did she buy it just for this fuckery? or will she pull the ‘i just had a this lil number laying around’ line????????? does she wanna seduce glynda to death?????? was this PLANNED OR DID SHE JUST DECIDE SHE WANTED A DATE AND WTH LIFE REALLY IS SHORT ON REMNANT THESE DAYS?????????? cinder fall please explain your workings to the class

maybe Glynda wasn’t the only one who’d become adept at reading her opponent.

👏 when 👏 will 👏 they 👏 kiss 👏 already 👏👏👏👏

me: this is a slowburn also me: if u assholes dont give me this in the next ten seconds-

“Unarmed? As if you could be so helpless.”

cinder’s style of flirting is just. commentating on a person’s deadliness. that’s IT it’s the only TRICK SHE HAS and its working, is the thing,

im reading the description of the table and remembering the shitpost and oh my god i have to draw this???? hell IS real!!!!!! COULDNT YALL JUST TOSS EM IN A PLAIN BOX,

Cinder eyed her from her bastion of dark cushions,

cinder, ass-deep in cushions: this is peak cuddle territory come and join me

Cinder, for her part, seemed delighted Glynda had noticed. Touching the pendant more gently than Glynda might have ever thought her capable of, Cinder said,  “Yours? You didn’t seem to mind parting with it.”

im still deeply enjoying this powermove the novelty NEVER wears off (and at risk of light spoilers i do enjoy its place in this story 👀)

Cinder let the necklace drop, settling against the swell of her bust once more,

/lightly coughs 👀👀👀

im losing my MIND at how gay this bit is i physically cannot HANDLE IT and if they even describe the meal once im gonna pop off cause i am. SO HUNGRY RN. AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cinder indicated a dish of lamb and vegetables, served on a bed of rice and drizzled in some sort of sauce.

SRY THIS ISNT GAY BUT OH MY GOD IM SO HUNGRY I WANNA E A T I T THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD UGHGHGHGHGHGH WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO BE TODAY OF ALL THE DAYS,

Glynda cleared her throat, working out: “The Grimm.”

like. GOD WE KNOW GLYNDA IS JUST SO FUNCTIONALLY BAD AT CONVERSATION BUT OF ALL THE THINGS glynda please just. just. stop thinking abt her sexy tattoos for a fifth of a second,

“You can control them.” A sedate blink. For all the world, Glynda might have just commented on the weather.

which is a faux pas for a date!!!!!!!!!!! at least tell her the DRESS IS SEXY WE ALL KNO WHATS WHAT YR THINKIN ABT

Glancing down as though it were being pointed out to her for the first time, Cinder shrugged and adjusted the end of the glove a little higher on her bicep. “And?” 

a quick aside im enjoying how like... visually expressive cinder is in this remaster! i can see her facial expressions and her motions really clearly in my mind’s eye which is a fun little boon if only because i have to redraw this nonsense hjsgdfjhfksgd but cinder’s got a Good Face this time around! A QUALITY FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You should know by now, there’s something about you that’s simply irresistible to Grimm.”

HERE COMES THE PLOT (and a single surviving line so far... this one sentence has survived all the world could throw at it... we stan)

Cinder straightened, and Glynda saw that this was what she’d been waiting for.

“It isn’t every day the great Glynda Goodwitch kneels before her adversary, is it?”

HELLO??????????????????????????? WHATS THIS WORDING????????? honestly tho for a second i thought she meant like. quite literally and i thought id missed some PROPER SHIT RIGHT THERE BUT YEAH WTH!!!!!!! C I N D E R

“You cheated. You can’t beat me on your own.”

yes glynda we gathered that yr a top

“Really, Glynda? Poison?” she sneered, something like offense simmering in her expression. “After all this?”

looks at the camera

anyway,

god im literally losing grasp of words to say because theres such a charged mood in this scene............. theyre brushing fingers............ trading jabs.......... im slurpin it up babey!!!!!!!! this rly is the BEST remaster of this whole scene it DESERVES this wordcount!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Beat you,” Cinder corrected. “And call it a point of pride.”

yes cinder we gathered yr a brat,

this dynamic is why this fic is so fuckign good when will winter have a swift return to add even more fuckery to this wild ride

Then, with a heavy-lidded look, Cinder found Glynda’s hand between them, the touch so sudden and daring that Glynda flinched. The fabric of those gloves was smooth against Glynda’s flesh, and for all that cruelty had marked every other instance of contact between them, Cinder was surprisingly gentle.

whomp there go my nuts

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHO MADE THE EXECUTIVE CHOICE TO ADD THIS LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO???????????? im losing my BRAINCELLS

What she wasn’t ready for was for Cinder to guide her hand to her own throat and hold it there.

THERE IS IT THERE’S THE KINK IT’S BEEN SPOTTED

oh my GOD what even IS THIS WHO ADDED THIS SECTION WHO ALLOWED THIS TO COME TO P A S S WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO????????? HEWWO??????????

Now… Now Cinder interested her.

tbh how can i liveblog this? what commentary can i POSSIBLY add that we arent already all THINKING. we just launched into a level of hell so deep that lucifers gonna have to pull some goddamn tricks to follow us down here!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SCENE! THIS MOMENT! IM SCREAMING

Glynda mirrored the expression back at him, and finally, he coughed, not making strong eye contact with either of them. He set their plate before them and hurried out without so much as a check-in.

i just KNEW that was gonna happen JHGDSFGJHKSDF he was gonna walk in on SMTHNG but i didnt think itd be CINDER’S CHOKING KINK,

okay i took a break and ate my weight in roast chicken and we’re back babey

Almost nervously, her fingers carded through her own dark hair, and there, among the locks, Glynda spotted a glimpse of something white, structured and ridged.

AND I AM INSTANTLY KNOCKED BACK UPON MY ASS 👈W👈H😨A👈T👈

It was easier to ignore the rest of it—whatever it was.

glynda you are a fool and a moron im withering into DUST

On no level had she expected those to be Glynda’s words.

then what... did she expect... well probably -- and rightly so -- ‘bitch WHAT ARE THOSE’ TBH

wait sorry i have to jump back because i forgot customary fingerguns on the most brazen bit of Shit yet:

Cinder was occupying herself with something else: the head of a dragon, perched over the door and staring down at the two of them with red, glossy eyes.

👈👈👈😎👈👈👈

okay BACK TO THE FIC

Fangs snapped together around the word.

aka back to me horni

/chanting TEETH! TEETH! TE

okay but the reason i doubled back to catch that fingergun is because we’re getting ass-deep into plot now!!!!!!!!!!! WITCHES AND DRAGONS BABEY......... HERE’S WHAT OFFAL HUNT IS ALL ABT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant rly drop more fingerguns than that because any astute reader will start realising the dots im shouting abt and honestly half the fun of this fic is the ride so >:3c

“Funny. I was sure he would have told you.”

that blow was so low i think cinder hit the concrete with that one

oh god theyre gonna get to the bit and i-

“Is that what all of this has been about? You called me here to remind me that I'm autistic?”

/SCREAMS

The words were delivered firmly, calmly, but Cinder’s response was the opposite, sudden upheaval seizing her. Her expression opened in something akin to panic. “Wh—no? What? No! That's not what I—”

/SCREAMS

oh my GOD CINDER YOU HAVE FUCKED UP LEGENDARILY!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SHE WAS FELL ASS-FIRST ONTO A LANDMINE OH MY GOD

offal hunt v1 cinder: im totally in control and im playing glynda every step of the way

offal hunt v2 cinder: OH JESUS OH FUCK OH NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-

Cinder seemed genuinely stressed now, speaking quicker as though trying to bury the last sixty seconds.

i knew this remaster would have sections that would blow me away but this bit really took the fcuking cake DGHSJFSJHFDG holy SHIT this is AMAZING

It was difficult to tell in the low light, but if Glynda wasn't mistaken, there was a bright flush of embarrassment coloring Cinder’s cheeks.

this is SUCH prime content hey remember in one of the early liveblogs that cinder would descend into full dork? WELL THE DESCENT CAME EARLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /pops bottles

“Cinder.” There was a very real line of threat in Glynda’s tone. “Don’t.”

oh this whole scene just keeps getting better i am LOVING this dynamic now!!!!!!! before it was all pretty one-sided so having the conversation rock back and forth is 👌👌👌

That Witch soul of yours—it was designed to void out everything but the prey before you. To be numb to all human emotion. To focus on the hunt and nothing else.

finally the fruit of 50% of my fingerguns COMES TO LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! PLOT PLOT PLOT

“This is bullshit.” Jabbing an accusing finger at Cinder, Glynda said, “You’re a liar. You’re a criminal!”

i LOVE glyndas pottymouth in this its such a good like... change from her being strict and formal and teachery and now shes full on gremlin huntress hell YES BABY!!!!!!!!!! GO OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“There’s all kinds of things I bet he never told you.” Cinder continued. “Did you know he was close to your predecessor? The Witch who came before you—they were inseparable.”

SRY IM LIKE STRUGGLIN TO COMMENTATE because so much of this like. speaking as an Old-Ass Reader this is like. a LOT! A LOT HAS CHANGED and yet,,,, stayed the same,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yall kids WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER LIKE................ 15 FOR THIS SHIT (but like. chapter 15 was different because this chapter used to be like chapter 7? so now everythings moved along so chapter 15 doesnt sound that impressive but trust me it was a different fic back then)

When they fell away, burnt and ruined, she could see Cinder’s bare arms for the first time. The red lines drawn across her skin sloped down the entire length of her arms, circling her elbows, carved into her wrists. They ended right at her hands, ensuring any long-sleeved garment would hide them. Every covered inch of her was filled like a canvas, like abstract art.

lets pause the fight scene for glynda to be gay!!!!! god im. okay look i said this earlier but im so glad we have more cinder like this tbh. the first version was rly lacking w/ cinder content until late-game when the plot sorta. got itself going? but now we’re eye-deep in this content i LOVE cinder i love this WEIRDO who is a HUGE LOSER and IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Glynda could not dispel the fear that she had been telling the truth.

and after committing Some Amount In Damages, we’re at the end of the chapter!

okay so i really enjoyed this version SO MUCH MORE. everything abt it was polished and worked together so much better and it really needed the space to breathe in its own chapter. its been horny, gay, intense, hilarious, and way more in one chapter and its SO good this really is PEAK offal hunt!!!!!!!!!!!! good job diesel and kc but im still going to murder you both,

[shittyelfwriter]

Ya girl Dani is v tired but has decided on which scenario! Ahem! Both Bernard and Elle have the flower petal vomit thing due to unrequited love for each other, but don't realize it. One of them (I'll let you decide which of them) decides to get it surgically removed; the other one realizes it's for the other part of Bernelle and rushes to tell them. But it's too late, the surgery has finished and the petals are gone--along with the romantic feelings for the realizer. (i reasearched tf out of it)

Warnings: angst for the sake of angst. There isn’t a happy ending to this one, guys. It’s very bittersweet. Not a happy version of this au, but Dani was specific! Maybe I can do a version with a happy ending sometime, but for now, here’s 5k of bernelle pain and unresolved feelings. Also apologies if it’s rough, I’m still getting back into the swing of things asjjdkshl

Some mood music to listen to while you read:

AlmostIs Never Enough —Ariana Grande ft. Nathan Sykes

You Don’t Know Me by Michael Buble

AU description:

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병(Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese))is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they sufferfrom one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romanticlove only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can becured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’sromantic feelings for their love also disappear.

One thing was certain: Elle knew thiswasn’t how flowers were supposed to work.

They came in bouquets and posies and corsagesand arrangements, they grew in gardens and window boxes and out from thesidewalk when you least expected them. They were something happy, andbeautiful, and bright.

Not something to dread, because theyweren’t supposed to grow out from your lungs when you couldn’t find a way totell your friend that you were in love with him.

She wasn’t sure when it had started. Infact, she suspected it had begun because of hissituation. They’d been walking towork together one morning, chatting and having a conversation about something funny BuddyClaus had done the day before. Elle couldn’t help but laugh, and that’swhen it happened. Bernard had been smiling, but the next moment he was coughinginto his fist.

“You okay?” She’d asked, clueless to whatwas happening, unaware of what happened to those who felt a little too much forsomeone they shouldn’t. He’d straightened, staring at something in his hand fora moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and continuing on their way.

“Yeah, absolutely fine.” He’d smiled at heragain, but he seemed troubled, almost pained somehow. The subject had droppedfor the time being, seeing as Elle didn’t like to pry.

But the cough didn’t seem to go away. Hemade the excuse that he had probably caught some sort of cold—unlikely, for anelf, but not completely unheard of. Elle worried about him and kept an eye onhim in order to help in any way she could. It was that same vigilance thateventually led her to understand what was happening.

Petals in the trash can in his office. Thescent of flowers always lingering on him. He’d caught what she’d heard Cupidcall in its simplest form lovesickness, and as soon as she’d realized that, atiny seed of jealousy sprang up in her heart. Or was it jealousy? Because itdidn’t feel sour and angry, but rather, longing.  An ache blooming in her chest when she sawhim try to hide his affliction.

Maybe it wasn’t surprising then when shebegan to cough up petals of her own. She wasn’t sure when or how it had shiftedfrom friendly concern to a pain in her heart when she thought of him sufferingfor want of someone else. And the most terrible part of it all was realizingthat she dreaded the day he arrived to work with lungs free of flowers, becausethat would be the day that he had finally confessed his feelings. The day she’dofficially lose her chance forever—a chance she was too afraid to take in thefirst place.  

It was stupid, Elle decided one morningwhen, after breakfast, she found herself coughing up rose petals into thekitchen sink. Why should he feel so alone in his situation? Clearly he thoughthe needed to hide it—which made sense, since if the lovesickness went untreatedyou could in theory die from it.Maybe he didn’t want to show weakness. But the ache in Elle’s chest when shesaw him looking sad, when he didn’t realize she was watching, tore her heart topieces more than the problem in her own chest, and her silence had to bebroken.

“It’s okay, you know.” It was a quietThursday evening, the workshop was slow and they were both in his officetogether sorting out invoices and inter-departmental memos. He looked up, mouthstill hidden by a handkerchief after yet another coughing fit. She could hearthe wheeze in his lungs, a sure sign of the disease’s progression. He wasfurther along than she was. He looked mildly confused, but also as if afraidhe’d been caught. She was quiet, sliding the trashcan towards him. “I know.”

“What? I don’t…” He watched as Elle turnedher pockets out, an array of softly colored petals falling into her lap. Sheoffered him a small, bittersweet smile, and his heart broke a little as herealized what she was trying to say.

“Takes one to know one, right?” She saidwith a slight laugh. Now that he listened, he could hear the telltale gratebehind her voice that betrayed her condition. “It’s not anything to be ashamedof, really. They say love is beautiful, right? Even if it is tearing you apartinside—quite literally.”

Shehad it too. She had it too, his mind kept chanting at him, as if it meantsomething good for him. A slight bit of hope sprouted in his chest.

“How did you…I mean, you’ve done a betterjob hiding it than me,” he admitted sheepishly. She chuckled, and he watchedher scoop the petals into the trash. What a fitting metaphor for theirsituation: wasted potential, to love for nothing. “How long?”

“Oh about a month now. Not as long as you,but not by much. Did you know,” Elle said with a laugh, “that at first Ithought it was contagious? That I’d caught it from you. I had to read up on itto realize that it doesn’t work that way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault—“

“No, Elle.” Bernard reached over and set ahand on top of hers. There was a moment of heavy silence between them, and thenhe continued. “I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from you. We’re a team, youand I. We shouldn’t keep secrets like this, not big, life threatening ones atleast, not from each other. And even worse, I made you feel like you needed tokeep yours a secret too.”

“Forget it.” She gave his hand a gentlesqueeze, unable to meet his eyes for the fluttering she couldn’t stop in herchest. “We know now, that’s all that matters.”

He smiled, and she finally got control of heremotions enough to look him in the face. His eyes were warm, kind. She felt amiserable hollowness in her stomach at the thought that his love was already sostrong for someone that it manifested physically. God, she wished that were her. “No more secrets, okay?” He said,and she swallowed her feelings down before replying.

“Yeah, no more secrets B.” No more secrets, except that I love you.

It was so much worse after that, because hewas so much kinder and more caring for knowing she was ill too. He made effortsto check in with her more often, to make sure she was taking care of herself.He was the one who made sure she went to see Hismus so that she could get allthe help she could. She made sure he did the same. But pills could only do somuch to help the garden growing in their lungs, or what was growing in theirhearts.

Every day, Elle choked on the confessionshe wanted to make. But the timing was never right, or she’d see him speakingwith another elf and reality would strike her like a slap to the face. It wasn’t her. He was in love, and itwasn’t with her. He had been the one to say no more secrets, right? If he’dfelt anything for her he’d have said it then.

She just wished it were easier to stopfeeling the way she did for him. Because every little smile and every littlesideways glance and every passing touch left her hunched over the sink when shegot home, coughing for hours and crying with anger at her own stupidity. Cryingbecause she hated her own stupid broken heart.

It was two and a half months later that thegrowth had spread throughout both of their lungs. The secret was officially outnow, for both of them. Elle’s condition had progressed more quickly than hisand was near surpassing Bernard’s in severity. Quentin and Curtis had teamed upunder Santa’s orders to run the workshop until Bernard and Elle figured outwhat to do. It was late, past 1 am, and she was sitting in his house, on hiscouch in a mostly dark living room.

“I’m going to do it,” she told him, theache in her chest feeling empty in spite of the blooms she knew were trying toclaw their way out. She didn’t have to explain, he knew what she meant. “I…Ican’t take it, anymore. It’s too much. It’s not even what’s in my chest, it’s…”she trailed off, coughing. He passed her a tissue; by the time she’d stoppedcoughing, it was speckled with blood. “It’s what’s in my heart. The weight ofit makes me wish I was dead.”

“Don’t say that.” Hearing her say that somatter-of-factly tore at Bernard’s conscience. If he’d told her by now, maybe she wouldn’t feel this way. Thenagain, maybe if he’d told her, she wouldn’t be sitting next to him either. Thatwas what had been keeping  him silent:the fear of losing her altogether.

“I know, I know.” Elle gave a shaky sigh. “I’mnot thinking clearly. Hell, I haven’t been thinking clearly for a long timenow.” Her pulse was racing just from sitting beside him, but she still feltthat sense of belonging that toyed with her hopes all too much. “I have to dowhat my head tells me is right. My heart has been in control for too long now,and look what it’s done to me.”

He’d worried she’d say that, dreaded theday it would come to that decision. He’d sworn he’d be brave, that he’d tellher before she had to make such a terrible choice. Maybe even a selfish part ofhim wanted her to have the surgery;if her feelings for whoever she loved were gone, maybe she’d have room in herheart for him, and all he was carrying in his. “That’s one way of looking atit,” he admitted, leaning back and slowing breathing in. It was excruciating,but the slower the better.

“You don’t agree?” He didn’t reply. A noteof desperation came into her voice, a dread. “B…no. Don’t tell me—“

“I don’t think I need to tell you. You seemto already know.” He leaned his head to the side, a gentleness in his gaze. “Idon’t want to let this go, Elle. I’ve never felt something like this forsomeone before…who knows? I might never feel anything like it again. It meanstoo much to me to cut the flowers out and throw away everything I feel withthem.”

“But you know what happens…” she trailed off, her throat tightening as tearsthreatened to spill out of her eyes. She took a deep breath and forced herselfto continue. “You know what happensif you don’t get them removed. If you don’t tell them.”

“If I don’t tell her,” he clarified, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behindher ear. Elle felt her stomach twist bitterly, her cheek leaning subconsciouslytowards his palm. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I know. But Elle.” Hesmiled and she felt the tears spill out and down her cheeks. She could tell bythe feeling of his thoughts that he’d made up his mind as much as she had abouther decision. “I’ve been around long enough. If this is how I go out? Fromloving someone? Then that’s not the worst way to go, now is it?”

She couldn’t find words. Everything wasblurry and her lungs ached and the next thing she knew she was pulledtight against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat against her ear.

“What am I supposed to do?” She sobbed,hiding her face in his shirt. “I—if you’re g-gone what am I supposed to—“

He shushed her, stroking her hair. “Itmight not come to that.”

“But if it does?”

He didn’t reply. Elle knew right then andthere that there was no turning back for her. If he was willing to die for hisfeelings, then she would cut hers out. Because if she didn’t, and he died, thenit wouldn’t be long before she was in the dirt with him.

“You though.” She hadn’t expected him to goon. His voice was low near her ear, comforting and soft. “You’re very young,Elle. You have time to love again if you want to. If you were very brave, you could even tell the onewho’s made you so sick.”

She didn’t reply.

“Do they even know that they’re the reasonyou’re sick, Elle?”

A long pause. “No.”

“Don’t you think they deserve to know?”

She shook her head, the motion sharp andtight. “No, B. He loves someone else.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nearly positive.”

“What if you just told him—“

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” There was a desperateexasperation in his voice. He knew it was going against his best interest toargue for Elle to tell this person how she felt, but his feelings for her made theurge to see her happy, and safe, and loved and well again overrule his own needs. “If you just explained, maybe—“

“B!” Elle pulled away from him, a fieryanger in her eyes he’d never seen from her before in spite of the tears stillstreaming down her face. “He’s more than I deserve,” she said, tremblingly. “Ishouldn’t have dared to feel what I do, and now I’m paying the price for mychoice.” Her shoulders sagged, and she looked down at her lap. “He’d never wantme. Please, just take my word for it.”

It tore at him to let her think somethinglike that, but he knew arguing would just hurt her worse. “Okay,” he conceded,and her body slumped in relief. “But only because I don’t want to stress youeven more by trying to change your mind.”

She leaned back against his shoulder, limpand hopeless. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he nodded. “You know there isn’tanything I wouldn’t do for you,” she said quietly. “But to change my mind onthis is too much. Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Elle. I’m sorry for making things worse.” She had noidea how much he meant by that.  

No more was said that night about thematter, nor in the days that followed. They became less and less functional,but for some reason nearly always found themselves at one another’s places; ifnot one, than the other. Only one day Bernard showed up to her loft and foundit empty.

“Elle?” Worry ran through him, panicbuilding in his pulse even though he knew he shouldn’t let himself. It was badenough that he couldn’t stay away from the girl who would be the end of him,but he had to let the small things bring him closer to that demise? Maybe shewas just out for groceries, but the severity of their situation made him worrytoo much.

He found no sign of Elle, other than asheet of paper and a book on the kitchen counter. The paper was from theelfirmary, he realized, and knew he should stop reading right there. Hisstomach sank when he saw that it was an appointment date—for that day. So shewas finally going through with her decision. He felt sick to his stomach andsat down, scanning the page for more details against his good judgment.

Bernard didn’t know if he should feelrelieved or concerned. Since he didn’t know who she loved, he didn’t know whoto feel sorry for, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous jitters at the thoughtof her maybe, just maybe having roomfor him in her heart when it was over. Maybe she was right, maybe the surgerywas her best option.

But then his eyes glanced down at thecounter and saw the book on the counter. It was a journal, actually; well used,with many of its pages filled—maybe a little less than half of the pages leftuntouched. It had a strap around it, which served to keep it relatively flat. Asoulmates journal, he realized, something that those with lovesickness oftenused to funnel their emotions into one place in case they never got the courageto speak to the object of their affection. Elle’ssoulmate journal. It looked full of secrets; ones that belonged to her andtold what was really inside her heart. He knew he shouldn’t touch it but at thesame time, it was like it called out to him in a language he could only hear.Then again, maybe that was just the ache in his own heart speaking. Unable toresist the urge, he pulled the book closer and removed the strap.

The pages were filled with writing, Elle’s writing. Her distinct handwritingcovered the pages; little doodles in some of the margins, other slips of paperfolded and tucked between the pages along with a wide array of petals of allsizes and colors—and later on, some smaller, complete flowers. His eyes grazedover the pages, almost not daring to read words not meant for him. It made hischest sore, and more than once he had to take a break to cough into his sleeve.

But at last he flipped back to the first pageand found her starting point, an inscription on the inside cover dated early onthat year.

Wow,I really don’t know how to start this.

Notthat I expect you’ll ever lay eyes on these words, since I’m terrified of youeven knowing how I feel. You didn’t ask for this—you love someone else. I seethe signs all over you  and it breaks myheart, but that’s not your fault, or your problem. I just hope that maybe, if Iwrite down the things I wish I could say to you every day, this will hurt a littleless and my lungs might give me a little longer before choking me out with myown feelings. A little more time to spend by your side.

Doyou mind if I address my entries to you? I hope not. You’re always the person Igo to first, the only person who makes me feel safe when I speak my mind. Hereare all the things I wish I was brave enough to say to your face, all thethings I bite back when you ask me what I’m thinking.

 Her initial was at the bottom of the page,and the entries began on the next. Starting with…with…

DearB,

I’mso sorry, but I’m terribly in love with you.

Bernard looked up, hands shaking, heartstopped in his chest. No, he couldn’t have missed…he couldn’t have missed this,could he? Had he been so blinded by his own fears that he couldn’t see herbeing just as in love with him as he was with her? 

The entry went on fromthere, leading into the rest of the journals contents. Day after day ofentries, sometimes multiple entries a day. And then he noticed what the slipsof paper were. A photo of them at last year’s Christmas after party. A ticketstub from the time he’d taken her to the movies. The birthday card he’d givenher that winter. A note he’d left her asking her to make sure she got enoughrest. A few petals of his, glued to the page with the caption, does she know how lucky she is for you tolove her this much? He stared back down at the page, tears stinging hiseyes as they trailed back to her first sentence. Dear B…I’m so sorry, but I’m terribly in love with you…

Next thing he knew he’d sprung to his feet,eyes still blurry with tears and a sob half hanging in his throat. He snatchedthe journal off the table and ran for the door, hoping against hope that itwasn’t too late.

Moments later he appeared outside the elfirmary,bursting into the lobby so winded he was nearly doubled over. Any attempt tohurry nowadays left him short of breath, but that didn’t stop him from hurryingtowards the nearest nurse. “Elle,” He wheezed out, feeling petals at the backof his throat. “Where’s—“

“Bernard?” Her voice. Her voice, but toocalm, too clear. His stomach sank like a stone, his eyes almost refusing tolook up. He slipped the book behind his back and turned to see Elle, standingin the doorway with Dr. Hismus just behind her. “Are you looking for me? What’shappened?”

“You’re…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.He’d spent so long used to seeing love in her eyes but not understanding whatit meant; now that it was gone, her expression seemed all wrong.

And then it hit him. He was the reasonshe’d done this. He was the one she’d been talking about all along. He’s more than I deserve, she’d said. I shouldn’t have dared to feel what I do,and now I’m paying the price for my choice. He’d never want me. Please, justtake my word for it.

This was his fault. Elle’s heart was empty,and it was his fault.

“I’mfine,” she reassured him, coming over and setting a hand on his arm with asmile—but it didn’t read genuine like it should have. “You didn’t think youneeded to come and check on me, did you? I asked Abby to let you know I’d be byonce I was done.”

“I guess I didn’t run into her in time.” Hecouldn’t help but search her face for any signs of her still feeling the wayhe’d read, the way he’d been feeling for her all this time, but…

“Her surgery was a complete success,”Hismus explained with a smile that felt cruel, even though it wasn’t meant tobe. Bernard felt numb to his toes, devoid of any feeling with the sudden senseof overwhelming loss. He’d had everything at his fingertips, for just a moment,and just as quickly, it was gone.

He was too late.

Elle walked him home. She might not havefelt any love for him anymore, but as his friend she still felt obligated tomake sure he got out of the cold safely. There was an emptiness between themthat her small talk couldn’t fill, and he couldn’t bring himself to try and fixit. He was too deep in thought, searching for some way to ask if she reallydidn’t have any of her feelings anymore. It was like he couldn’t fully comprehendthat what he wanted was forever out of his reach, that that hope he’d had ofher finally having room for him in her heart was completely gone.

“How are you feeling?” Bernard asked Elledirectly, maybe a little too directly even. They were on his front porch, snowjust beginning to fall in gentle flurries. Elle took a deep breath of the chillair, her exhale a cloud of steam. A smile crossed her lips, but when she lookedat him there was still that hollowness behind her eyes.

“Like I’m finally thinking clearly for thefirst time in a long time.”

She left him at his own house, alone. Forthe first time in weeks it seemed that she didn’t feel the need to be therewith him. It was only when she’d gone that he realized he was still holding herjournal, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him carrying it. Maybe it justdidn’t matter to her enough anymore to warrant saying anything.

It was too quiet with just him and hisfeelings for company.

The ache in his chest was constant, now. Ifhe’d thought he was heartbroken before it was nothing to the wavering, wiltingsensation crushing him from within. He spent a good portion of the eveningcleaning bloody petals up off of his floor, wondering why he was evenbothering.

But at last, he came back to the journal.He sat on the floor in his living room and read the whole thing from front toback, reliving every moment they’d spent together, every laugh, cherishing everysweet thing she’d wished she’d said aloud but had written down instead. Thelast few entries were wishes, things she despaired she’d never had the courageto do with him, and then apologies, apology after apology for her decision. Thepages were tear stained before he’d read them, but they were much worse forwear after he had. And then he sat, surrounded by petals and tissues, staringat the remaining blank pages spread out before him.

He’d never kept a soulmate journal of hisown, but maybe…maybe he could finish their story.

And so he sat there well into the night,writing replies to the words she’d never said. Penning more moments they’dshared, regrets of his own, words of comfort that she didn’t need anymore.Telling her things about himself he’d been too afraid to share, making his ownwishes that would never come true. But the last thing he wrote was an apology.

Iknow I told you that I would rather die than lose the way I feel—lose the way Ifeel about you, Elle. But now I know that I love you too much to do that. Ilove you too much to leave you alone.

Pleaseforgive me.

A few days passed. Elle showed up to work asshe always did first thing in the morning, bringing some fresh departmentreports to his desk with a cheerful smile yet still calm and cool andcollected, her telepathy still down and out from the anesthesia from her surgeryseveral days before. She looked around, finding his office rather cleaner thanusual. There was even a vase of roses on one of the side tables, without apetal out of place. She wasn’t exactly sure why that mattered…the explanationseemed foggy, and far away. Unimportant, even.

“Good morning, sir.” Elle said. “I didn’texpect to see you back so soon. Are you feeling better?” She’d never called himsir before. It wouldn’t be the last time, either. Maybe their friendship hadgotten lost along the way with their other feelings, too.

If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care aboutthe change. Bernard looked up from the book he was reading, and smiled—but therewas a void behind the eyes. A lack of feeling that would never quite heal, asign of something that had been taken away. He got up, closing the journal andsetting it on the bookshelf directly behind his desk.

“Thank you Elle. I’m feeling much betternow.”

[gta-5-cheats]

The X-Files, Fight Club, and More &ndash; The Weekend Chill

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The X-Files, Fight Club, and More – The Weekend Chill

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Last Friday, Syfy gave us a new image and premiere date for Krypton, the Superman prequel series set on his native planet about 200 years before his birth. It’ll arrive March 21.

Over the weekend, John Williams revealed in an interview that he’d be composing a theme for Solo: A Star Wars Story. The rest of the score is still being handled by John Powell. The standalone Han Solo film releases May 25.

The 32 Most Anticipated Movies of 2018

On Tuesday, Netflix released a brief teaser for A Series of Unfortunate Events season 2, starring Neil Patrick Harris as Count Olaf. The show returns March 30, and adapts books five to nine.

Later that day, Paramount announced that the next Cloverfield movie – which may or may not be called God Particle – has been moved back to April 20 from February. The film stars Daniel Brühl, Elizabeth Debicki, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw among others.

On Wednesday, Netflix said that a Bright sequel is in the works, with stars Will Smith and Joel Edgerton along with director David Ayer all attached. This confirms the Bloomberg report from two weeks ago.

That’s all the entertainment news for this week. Welcome back to The Weekend Chill, your one-stop destination for what to watch, play, or listen to this weekend. Here are the best picks:

TV: The X-Files Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny reprise their roles as FBI special agents for an eleventh year in the second year of the show’s revival era, whose rating success (despite negative critical reception) convinced Fox to greenlit a 10-episode new season. The premiere and finale will focus on the long-arc storyline, with the other episodes being standalone.

Recurring and guest stars include Annabeth Gish, Robbie Amell, Lauren Ambrose, Karin Konoval, Barbara Hershey, and Haley Joel Osment. Scully (Anderson) and Mulder (Duchovny) attempt to locate their son at the beginning of the series, while battling a mysterious organisation led by Erika Price (Hershey).

The X-Files season 1 has gotten average to good reviews from critics, with Vox’s Todd VanDerWerff surprised “how rejuvenated it feels”, and terming it “a damn sight better than the 2016 one”. Uproxx’s Alan Sepinwall concurred with VanDerWerff that it’s not anywhere near its season-three peak, but “it’s much better than it has any business being, particularly given what we got two years ago”.

The Gadgets 360 Winter 2018 TV Guide

How to access: Hotstar Time commitment: 40 minutes

Grown-ish In the penultimate episode of the third season of ABC’s popular African-American family sitcom Black-ish, the eldest daughter Zoey Johnson (Yar Shahidi) went off to college. Usually, audiences would just see less of her from the next season – as has become the case with the ongoing season 4 – but here, she’s gotten her own spin-off.

Stylised like the original, Grown-ish follows Zoey as she begins her freshman year at Southern California University. Joining her is Charlie Telphy (Deon Cole) – now part of Black-ish’s main cast – f and Aaron (Trevor Jackson), who has a recurring role on Black-ish. New cast members include Francia Raisa, Chris Parnell, Emily Arlook, and Jordan Buhat.

Reviews for the show’s first season – critics have seen a few episode – are mostly positive, with EW’s Dana Schwartz praising Shahidi’s chemistry with her Latina Republican roommate Ana (Raisa) and the snappy dialogue, while Variety’s Maureen Ryan called it “a smart, breezy expansion of the Black-ish family”.

How to access: Freeform Time commitment: 1 hour first week, 30 minutes thereafter

Rotten Do you like true crime shows and are concerned about food production? This Netflix original documentary series is tailored especially for you then. Rotten focuses on the growing global food industry, exposing the corruption, waste and dangers of your everyday eating habits. “The food industry is under full-scale assault,” the trailer narrates. “The crisis is global.”

Episodes will look at the honey industry – a scam known as Honeygate that involved smuggling in inferior honey from China via Australia to the US – alongside the rise of severe food allergies, chicken farms, organic and unpasteurized milk, and regulation of the fishing industry. The show comes from the same production company that regularly collaborates with Anthony Bourdain.

“In a world where huge global supply-chains are increasingly intertwined and consolidated, this series starts on your dinner plate… and follows the money to the shocking consequences – intended or not – of regulation, innovation and greed,” Netflix’s official description for Rotten reads.

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How to access: Netflix Time commitment: 6 hours

Movies: Fight Club We’re going to talk about Fight Club (sorry). The film that gave the world’s youth endlessly-quotable lines, that gave the generation some good values and some screwed-up ones, and that inspired foolish individuals to start their own fight clubs, completely missing the point the film – directed by David Fincher, and based on Chuck Palahniuk’s novel – was trying to make.

For the unaware, Fight Club stars Edward Norton as the unnamed protagonist and narrator, who’s disgruntled with his white-collar job. He visits support groups for terminal disease patients just to have someone to talk to. He meets Brad Pitt’s soap salesman on a flight one day, and starts a “fight club” with him, where they organise bare-knuckle boxing matches for people like them.

Fight Club was one of the most controversial films of the year in 1999, and though it received polarising reception from critics, it has gone on to become one of the greatest films of its time. Pitt’s acting, Fincher’s work, and the anti-consumerism message make it a must-watch.

How to access: Amazon Prime Video Time commitment: 2 hours and 19 minutes

L.A. Confidential Two decades on, it’s still a surprise that L.A. Confidential – a brilliantly written, powerfully acted, and gritty depiction of 1953 Los Angeles mixing police corruption and Hollywood – lost most Oscar categories it was nominated in to Titanic. (If you love Titanic, please go away.) But it did pick up two very well-deserved awards, Best Screenplay and Kim Basinger for Best Supporting Actress.

Basinger plays a call girl who looks a lot like a popular film star, and she becomes central to an investigation into a multiple murder at a coffee shop after two detectives – Bud White (Russell Crowe) and Ed Exley (Guy Pearce) – discover ties to the call girl service operator. The film also stars Kevin Spacey as a “Hollywood” detective, so whether that influences your decision to watch it given the recent revelations, is up to you.

L.A. Confidential is one of the best films of its era, with a 99 percent fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and a 90 score on Metacritic. It’s dark, cynical, pessimistic and twisted, and it manages to craft compelling characters and wade into their psychology, while still being a taut crime thriller.

How to access: Amazon Prime Video Time commitment: 2 hours and 17 minutes

Fantastic Mr. Fox Wes Anderson has a new stop-motion animated feature on the way, and his previous venture – a comedy based on Roald Dahl’s children’s book about a fox who steals food from three mean and wealthy farmers – is a fantastic (pardon us) family adventure all-around. It’s also got a terrific voice cast: George Clooney, Meryl Streep, Bill Murray, Willem Dafoe, and Owen Wilson among others.

Clooney and Streep voice Mr. and Mrs. Fox, who’ve built a peaceful life for themselves after time as thieves. But after 12 years, Mr. Fox’s animal instincts pull him back into his old life as a chicken thief, which puts not just his family but the whole animal community at risk. The farmers are determined to catch him at any cost, which forces the Foxes underground.

Fantastic Mr. Fox is a whole-hearted funny romp for people of all ages, full of personality, charm, wit and emotional undercurrents, and brought to life beautifully by set designers and animation directors, alongside a wonderful score by Alexandre Desplat.

How to access: Amazon Prime Video Time commitment: 1 hour and 26 minutes

Other mentions: For those who’ve seen every movie listed above, and want something more recent, there are a few choices on Blu-ray: the Tom Cruise-starrer American Made, based on the true story of a pilot who became a drug smuggler for the Medellín Cartel in the 80s; Emma Stone and Steve Carrell in Battle of the Sexes, which is loosely based on the 1973 tennis match between Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs; and Ben Stiller in Brad’s Status, where he re-examines his life while on a college tour with his son.

If you’re on the lookout for more new TV, Showtime has a coming-of-age drama from Lena Waithe – Emmy-winner with Aziz Ansari for Master of None season 2’s “Thanksgiving” episode – called The Chi, with rapper Common as an executive producer. It’s set in the South Side of Chicago with Jason Mitchell (Straight Outta Compton) in the lead, who dreams of opening a restaurant. It starts Sunday in the US, and might be available on Hotstar in India, given the latter’s deal with CBS.

There’s also BBC One mini-series McMafia, inspired by journalist Misha Glenny’s book of the same name, which focuses on the British-raised son of a Russian mafia boss who’s trying to get away from the family business. You can watch it via BBC iPlayer.

Star Trek: Discovery, Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, One Day at a Time, and More on Netflix in January

Beyond that, given it’s the start of the month (and year), all streaming services have added tons of new content. On Netflix, you can find the third season of Jane the Virgin; the first and only season of One Punch Man, the anime about a superhero who can kill anyone with one blow and how that depresses him, and both versions of Fullmetal Alchemist, the 2003 one that was made before the manga was complete, and the 2009 edition Brotherhood that’s more faithful to the source material.

Meanwhile, Hotstar now has every single episode of The X-Files, starting from the first episode in 1993 to the latest one that came out this week (as mentioned earlier). It has also brought back The Wire – one of the greatest series of all-time – in addition to all nine seasons of 24, and all 12 seasons of Bones.

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Are you missing out? Why Facebook is important

I’ve had so many questions about why Facebook is important in the past few months.

Even those who hate social media are tentatively asking me whether I would explain a few things.

And those who have grown up with Facebook don’t necessarily understand what it can do for your blog, business, charity or hobby.

While some platforms have come and gone, Facebook powers on. One in five visits to the Internet worldwide is to Facebook.

If you write a blog, run a small business or help out a charity, understanding Facebook is a huge part of getting your message across.

The Middlesized Garden blog is mainly for amateur gardeners whose gardens are larger than a courtyard but smaller than an acre.

But I also teach/coach writers and bloggers. When I started the Middlesized Garden, I promised to share my experiences of running a blog – mistakes, figures and all. So here goes – how it works on Facebook:

Why Facebook is important – the steps

When you first type www.facebook.com and sign up, you will sign up as a person. For example, Alexandra Campbell. This is your personal Facebook Profile.

You can add a photo of yourself, say where you went to school, when your birthday is, and so on. It’s up to you as to how much to reveal. You can set privacy controls and decide who sees what.

However, Facebook rules dictate that anything remotely ‘professional’ should be run from a Facebook Page.

Recipes and b&b accommodation on the Kelly Mill Facebook Page – it has a friendly, personal feel, but this is still a Facebook Page, not a personal profile. Which is how it should be.

I should not, for example, be putting the Middlesized Garden blog posts on my Personal Profile. You should not be ‘advertising’ your business on your Facebook Personal Profile.

Those are Facebook rules. You will be put on the Naughty Step and have your Facebook presence disabled when/if they find out.

Although when you look at some people’s personal profiles, you will see this rule is often broken. At your own risk!

You need a Facebook Page for anything business-like

You can only have one personal Profile. This is necessary in order to run a Facebook Page. But you can have lots of Facebook Pages. For example, from my personal profile, Alexandra Campbell, I run four Facebook Pages.

They are The Middlesized Garden (for the blog), Faversham Open Gardens & Garden Market Day (obvious) and two others for clients. If you run a Facebook page, you’re called an Admin.

You can have more than one Admin running a Facebook Page, so I’m not the only one (phew!) on any of them.

To create a ‘Page’, you click on the little downward arrow on the top right of your Facebook Profile page. It’ll offer you lots of options, one of which is ‘Create Page.’ This comes up:

Facebook will ask you to say which category your business or hobby is in. It doesn’t offer ‘blogger’ so I chose Brand or Product, then a sub-category of Home & Garden.

The must-haves of a Facebook Page

You must have a photo. There are two places for photos at the top of the Page. It looks weird if you leave either blank. They should be photos that help explain the Page.

The Middlesized Garden Facebook Page has a photo of me, plus a ‘gardening’ photo.

A friend recently asked for some help with her Facebook page. She runs cookery holidays, so she had a lovely close-up photo of tomatoes as the main photo on her Page. But that doesn’t say ‘cookery holiday’. It could be veg growing or healthy eating.

We are so lucky in the world of gardening. Lots of heavenly photos out there. It’s a bit more difficult if you’re selling widgets.

Then the name of your Facebook Page needs to match the name of your blog, company and other social media names exactly. 

Well-known gardening and TV personality, Michael Perry, for example, used to be ‘Gardening Greek’ on Twitter. Now his Facebook Page, website, Twitter and Instagram are all Mr Plant Geek, with the Michael Perry name also very visible. It’s easy to find him, and also to understand what he does.

Mr Plant Geek’s Facebook Page is a bit different – check out the wicked vegetables (above).

Other things you need to know

You need to fill in the ‘About’, preferably without being too bafflingly self-deprecating about it. People just want to know what you do. Really. Add your website/blog link, too, everywhere that Facebook suggests it.

Facebook likes photos, pictures and videos. So whenever you want to say something, try to accompany it with a visual. Even of the garden widgets arriving on a fork lift…

I’m going to use a long word…

Now you need to know about the Facebook algorithm. The word ‘algorithm’ has most people fidgeting in their seats, but hang on in there.

When Facebook Pages first started, you clicked ‘Like’ on a Page. You would then see all the updates it posted. So if you clicked ‘Like’ on the Middlesized Garden Facebook Page, you would see everything we posted (provided you were on Facebook at the time.)

Now Facebook knows whether you’re really interested.

If you politely click ‘Like’ on a friend’s Garden Widget Company Facebook Page, but you’re not interested in Garden Widgets, Facebook will know. Spooky, isn’t it? You will never see a post from the Garden Widget Company because it will be too far down the algorithm.

On the other hand, if you really are interested in the Middlesized Garden (pretty please!), then you will see (some) Middlesized Garden Facebook posts.

So now we come to the money…

If the Garden Widget Company wants to get their posts seen by more people, it must pay. You can either pay to boost specific posts up the algorithm. Or you can pay to invite more people to Like your Page itself.

It’s cheap – you can start boosting your posts or your Page for less than £5/$5.

And it’s highly targeted. The Garden Widget Company can specify male/female, age range, geographical range and ‘interests’ when setting up the boost. It can specify that the Facebook post – or Page – be shown to men between the ages of 35 and 50, living within 50 miles of London, who are interested in garden widgets.

How you ‘boost’ your posts by paying any amount you choose. You can also choose your audience and their interests.

Facebook can often reach thousands of people who match the description.

That’s how Facebook makes its money.

However, it’s now much more difficult to get what is called ‘organic’ growth on Facebook.

Organic growth means getting people to like, follow and share your posts without your having to pay.

My embarrassing Facebook secret

I didn’t intend to pay more than £5 to promote the Middlesized Garden Facebook Page. I was just trying everything out to help understand why Facebook is important and how it worked.

But I accidentally ticked the wrong box, so the promotion kept running until I’d spent £120. Gaah!

It’s lucky Mr Middlesize doesn’t read this blog….

It did mean I got about 1,500 Likes in around four months, all interested in gardening. On Twitter or Instagram, paying for followers is pointless as they may be herdsmen on yaks in Outer Mongolia. Or even fake accounts.

On Facebook, you can be very specific as to who is invited to ‘Like’ your Page. I specify people who are interested in gardening, the NGS, Sarah Raven, the National Trust etc. Facebook will only invite real people who are interested in these things to ‘Like’ my Page.

Since the £120 mistake, I haven’t paid anything to promote the Middlesized Garden Facebook Page. In just over a year, it has grown naturally to nearly 3,000 Likes.

So I can assure you, from painful personal experience, that paying to promote your Page works. But if you’re happy with slow, free growth, that can work, too.

However, I’m not even sure that having lots of ‘Likes’ on your Page is important. The algorithm (or paying) means that some Pages with not many Likes can reach as many people as others with lots of Likes.

Do you need to pay every time you post?

You don’t have to boost all your posts. Decide what’s important to you. Even fivers can add up horribly quickly. But, as a business, a blogger – or even a charity – you need to pay. Sometimes.

One very helpful tip is only to promote successful posts. Post your latest news but see what response it gets before deciding whether to pay to boost it.

You’ll get much better value for money. And you’ll also see what people are interested in.

For example, I was fascinated by the recent Kew Gardens ‘Gardeners Guide to Medicinal Plants.’ (affiliate link – if you buy through it, I may receive a small fee.)

I reviewed it on the blog, and put the review on my Facebook Page.

I was quite surprised to find that it was ‘organically’ one of my most popular posts. So other people are as interested as I am? I have now boosted it with £5. But I don’t always.

You may be able to reallocate money spent elsewhere on promotion. Or you may decide it’s worth spending the cost of a couple of Starbucks coffees a week on promoting your posts or your Page.

But you need to pay in order to achieve your aims

Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just taken us bloggers a while to get our heads round this.

There are ways of making the most of the free side of a Facebook Page.

The first is to put really interesting stuff on it. Facebook wants people to see things they’re interested in on Facebook.

When your latest blog post is ‘really interesting’, Facebook will see that people are reading it and sharing it. Facebook then show it to hundreds more people without your having to pay. (On the other hand, if you do pay, then Facebook will show it to thousands more…)

If you write about cats doing funny things with garden widgets, Facebook will probably show lots of people that post. But if you write ‘New consignment of garden widgets in! Buy now!’ it will sink to the bottom of Facebook’s algorithm. Only your mother will see it.

And, yes, your mother is on Facebook. Probably.

On the other hand, if your Garden Widget Page is all about cats, that won’t do your Garden Widget blog or business much good.

There is a balance to be found. Somewhere. We’re all looking…

The No 1 tip

Think about what people are interested in. What are they looking for? What really matters to them?

A Facebook Page should not be all about you (or your blog, business or charity).

On the other hand, it should be partly about you. That’s why people clicked ‘Like’. It’s interesting to see behind the scenes. So don’t be too polite and non-commercial either.

For example, we were recently trying to decide between two designs for a flyer for Faversham Open Gardens & Garden Market Day. We put both on the Page, and said we’d decided on the blue. Did people agree with us?

We put these up on our Open Gardens Facebook page to see what people thought.

This post reached over 1,500 people, got 17 likes and 14 shares. Without spending any money. It almost looks like an advertisement, yet it was one of our most popular posts.

FYI the Page itself only has 399 Likes.

Facebook groups

Joining a Facebook Group is another reason why Facebook is important.

You have to join a Facebook Group as an individual, however. Your Business Page can’t join a Group.

You can post links to your blog, work etc, depending on the rules of the Group. Groups don’t have algorithms. Everything you post will be seen by everyone who looks at the Group.

But don’t use a Facebook Group just as a dumping ground for your latest post or product.

Facebook Groups are great places to find advice and support. For example, I’m trying to improve my photography at the moment. I’ve joined two photography Groups: A Year With My Camera and Makelight.You can ask questions and get feedback on your photographs.

In the gardening Facebook world, Andrew O’Brien runs a group called Garden Bloggers, ‘helping garden bloggers reach a wider audience’. It’s a Closed Group so you have to ask to join it, but ‘all levels of garden blogging are welcome.’

Most Facebook groups are closed, which means your posts can only be seen by other members of the group. Many (not Gardenbloggers) are the support and back-up for paid courses.

And the figures are…

Likes and shares are all very well. But it’s not the answer to why Facebook is important.

Never lose sight of your real goal. Do you want more visitors to your garden? More readers for your blog? More people to buy your garden widgets?

It’s only worth spending time and money on Facebook if it helps you achieve those goals.

Facebook drives about 6,000 visits to the Middlesized Garden blog a year. That’s more than Twitter or Pinterest (around 5,000 visits each).

But it’s still a small percentage of the total visits, compared to the 150,000 visits we get every year via search engines.

More people come from Facebook than any other single source. And for the first year of the blog, social media accounted for 25% of total visits to the Middlesized Garden. This was equally divided between Facebook and Twitter.

That’s why Facebook is important to me.

So bear those figures in mind. Facebook is a time sink!

Facebook may be important to you even if you’re not on it

One of the services I offer is a ‘blog clinic.’ This is a 6 hour package.

For the first two hours, I check your blog out, look at your stats and see what your competition are doing.

Then I make recommendations and discuss improvements in the next two hour session, usually by Skype or in person.

The last two hours is for follow-up – whatever’s necessary.

So far, I’ve always found that Facebook is a major driver of traffic to any blog, even when the blogger themselves doesn’t have a Facebook Page.

It’s lovely that Facebook can drive traffic to your blog without your doing anything. But you’ll always get even more traffic if you become pro-active about it.

Always check out the competition

If you want to publicise your blog, company or charity, the first step is to see what other people are doing. Look at lots of Facebook Pages. Decide what you like or don’t like.

BBC Radio Kent Sunday Gardening Facebook Page.

All of the following have a nice mix of garden information, inspiration and fun: BBC Radio Kent Sunday Gardening, Great Dixter, NGS London (and your local NGS), The English Garden and BBC Gardeners World.

Look at your favourite companies, blogs and charities’ websites. Their Facebook Page link will be there (somewhere – often hidden away!).

And do check Faversham Open Gardens & Garden Market Day and The Middlesized Garden’s Facebook Pages Thank you!

If you’d like help with writing, blogging or finding your way through the minefield of communicating online today, contact me at alexandra@themiddlesizedgarden.co.uk. I do one-to-ones, in person or Skype.

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