#and i have long blond hair with pink streaks and blue tips that reaches my mid back

[void-kill]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

[t4tails]

Hi my name is Merliah Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long sandy blonde hair (that’s how I got my name) with pink streaks and magenta tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Barbie (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a mermaid but my legs are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a princess, and I'm looking for my long lost royal mother after experiencing these weird changes while surfing (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes, including my tail covers, from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather collar, fishnets (literally) and at least 3 belts. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Oceania. It's under the sea so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

[faggot-friday]

hello Arrow Dykery Faggot-Friday,

my name is Icarus Luma insta'gram dizzy dizzeners dizziest and i have long blond hair with pink streaks and blue tips that reaches my mid back and sky blue eyes like limpid tears and alot of people tell me i look like enid sinclair (AN: if u dont know who she is get da hell out of here!) im not related to harry styles but i wish i was because hes a major fucking hottie. im an elf but my ears are round and cute i have pale white skin. im also a witch and i go to a school called (name) in (place) where im in (number) grade (im an age). im a girly girl (incase you couldnt tell) and i wear mostly pink. i love hot topic and i buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a pink corset with matching lace around it and a pink leather miniskirt black fishnets and pink combat boots. i was wearing pink lipstick white foundation black eyeliner and pink eyeshadow. i was walking outside of my school. it was sunny and bright and there was sun which i was very happy about. a lot of gays stared at me. i put my middle finger up at them.

this is a work of art

[skully-bones]

Hi my name is Kevony Dark'ness Dementia Raven McCallister and I have long kevony blonde hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my ears and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Macaulay Culkin (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to him but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in Winnetka where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Wet Bandits stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them

[kirieshhhka003]

Smth about bottom Squalo? Pls we need some food ;;

Here you go, my child. Enjoy this gay seggz💚

Pairing: top! Tiziano x bottom! Squalo

Warnings: NSFW, anal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

Wanton moan slips past Squalo’s bitten lips as his boyfriend finds his prostate, rubbing it a few times, what sends electric shocks running down red-haired’s spine. He stands on all fours before Tiziano, while the last one works with his fingers inside of his beloved’s tight ass, stretching Squalo’s entrance for coming hot make-out session. He finally succeeded talking his boyfriend into bottoming, but red-haired definitely didn’t like the whole process of preparation

Tiziano repeats his simple manipulations, massaging tiny knot of nerves once more, what makes Squalo arch his back even more, snapping his ass into every thrust of blonde’s hand. A soft chuckle leaves blonde’s lungs, he crouches over his boyfriend, leaning closer to him, and tuts playfully into red-haired’s ear:

- You’re really desperate for my dick inside of you, huh? - bright blush streaks across Squalo’s face and he hides it in soft pillows, moaning something indistinctly. Smile on blonde’s face only grows bigger as he adds the third finger inside of his boyfriend’s ass, rubbing his prostate a few more times

Squalo doesn’t like being the bottom one, he prefers sex much more in a topping position, but sometimes, on rare occasions, Tiziano succeeds talking his boyfriend into it, so here he is - laying with his ass up, full of lube and blonde’s fingers inside. It’s not like he doesn’t like Tiziano being on top, no, he loves this man and sex with him in any possible way. Squalo doesn’t like being so open, so vulnerable, having absolutely no control over situation

When three of Tiziano’s fingers can move freely inside of his beloved’s ass, blonde male decides that it’s enough, pulling his digits out and reaching out for a little bottle of mulberry- scented lube

Tiziano’s fingers leave red-haired’s body so suddenly, his fluttering hole clenches around nothing and man whines at the obnoxious feeling of emptiness. Blonde smirks at his boyfriend’s behavior and slightly spanks Squalo’s ass, squeezing decent amount of lube on his palm and generously spreading it all over his hard length

Tiziano strokes his dick a few last times, slapping his boyfriend’s ass before steadying it, so that the swollen head of his cock is pressed firmly against red-haired’s fluttering hole. Long-haired doesn’t lose a chance to tease, pressing the tip against slicked opening, but not plunging it inside yet

Blonde stretched out his boyfriend’s ass just excellent, so the tip slides inside without any resistance. Squalo whimpers meekly, leaning back, impaling himself on Tiziano’s stiff dick. Long-haired male trails his hands all over his lover’s back, resting them on his ass, spanking it again and watching pale, now red from his manipulations, buttocks jiggling in his palms

Tiziano makes first deep thrusts, slowly pulling his dick out, and then forcing it back in, so that his balls slap against red-haired’s ass, making a harsh loud “clap” sound bouncing off the walls. Squalo seemingly shudders when blonde’s dick rubs against his prostate, thick mewl escapes him, making long-haired male smile smugly

- Here it is. You like it when I touch you there, don’t you? - Tiziano asks mockingly. He makes one more thrust, but with more force, so that his cock strokes especially hard against the sweet little spot inside of Squalo’s body

Tiziano picks up pretty quick pace, mercilessly fucking into red-haired’s squelching hole, turning him into a little goo with every new thrust. Filthy sounds fill up the room, Squalo grips on blonde’s hand, twining their fingers into lock and leaving droopy kisses all over his knuckles

Blonde rests his free hand on red-haired’s hard cock, sliding it between his clenched fist and squeezing softly the sensitive pink head. Squalo shouts out into the pillow, clenching on Tiziano’s dick even more, what makes long-haired man moan out loudly. He quickens the pace he’s fucking his beloved on, peppering Squalo’s shoulders with wet kisses, leaving red marks here and there

The feeling of his cock jerking inside of Squalo’s tight ass, how his velvety walls envelop him lovingly, makes tension grow bigger in the lower part of Tiziano’s stomach, and all the filthy sounds red-haired makes don’t ease this feeling in any way. Blonde notices how his boyfriend’s breath snatches and he squeezes his leaking with pre-cum dick tighter in his hand, pumping into his ass with more speed and force

Squalo feels his orgasm building and just a few thrust later intense pleasure rolls over him, filling every cell of his body with pleasure and heat. He grips tighter on Tiziano’s hand, trying to muffle his screams in pillows, as he shoots thick globes of cum into blonde’s palm as he keeps jerking his dick off

The way Squalo starts clenching on blonde’s dick throws man over the edge right after his beloved, so he joins his intense pleasure, nibbling on red-haired’s nape and shooting his hot cum deep inside of his boyfriend’s squelching heat

Tiziano crushes on top of his beloved, nestling his head in the crook of red-haired’s neck, littering his skin with small kisses and making a few last faint thrusts to ride out Squalo’s and his own orgasms. Blue-eyed lets out low grumble as blonde’s still-hard cock rubs against his prostate, making him shake beneath his boyfriend

Blonde slowly pulls his dick out, watching his white cum starting to leak out of Squalo’s clenching hole. Tiziano squeezes soft flesh of his boyfriend’s buttocks and slightly smacks one of them, making red-haired bellow discontentedly. Long-haired lays on his side next to Squalo, intently looking at his beloved’s flushed face

- One more time? - Tiz asks, his low voice sounds a little bit hoarse from moaning. Wide grin stretches his lips as Squalo gives him exhausted look, furrowing thin eyebrows

- Yeah, but this time I’m on top, - man replies, watching intently at Tiziano’s reaction. Blonde just wrinkles his nose, his hand extends to his boyfriend’s hair to play with pretty curls, and man tuts playfully:

- No fucking way~

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[volantium]

your doorstep calls my name aka soft boys painting each others nails 

for @venomondenim 🖤

also available on ao3

The thing is, Peter’s noticed, is that Harley’s always got chipped nail polish.

It begins out as a fresh coat, clean and without a single mark marring the shiny surface. But it doesn’t take long—usually only a couple of hours—before it starts flaking off. Harley never seems to notice, or mind. It chips because Harley’s so hands on, no matter what he’s doing. The likely cause is the fact that he’s always in the lab, and both of them know you aren’t meant to be wearing nail polish with all the state-of-the-art tech Tony lets them play with.

But Peter’s noticed when Harley’s tapping his fingers against the kitchen bench, and it chips off in small terrazzo pieces. Or how Harley will pick at his fingers when he’s nervous, and it peels back underneath the curve of his nail. Peter doesn’t know what any of this means, that he has this knowledge lurking in the back of his head. It’s just another Harley-ism he’s taken stock of, analysed and put into the drawer of everything else he knows about his best friend, and thusly resolutely and absolutely not thought about again.

He almost always wears black nail polish. Peter can count on one hand the amount of times Harley’s had bright yellow or red fingernails. It follows, logically, that this only occurs whenever Harley’s looking after Morgan.

The thing is, Peter thinks, as he watches one such time, Morgan painting careful lines of bright purple half on Harley’s thumb nail and half on his skin, is that he wouldn’t mind if that was him instead.

Peter’s never had nail polish on before.

He wonders what it’s like.

This thought sits with him for the next few weeks, as he watches Harley chip his black nail polish without a care in the world. Would it be okay if he asked Harley? Would it be okay if he asked why it’s always black? Would it be okay if he asked Harley to paint his nails, maybe, just once, so he knows what it’s like?

They’re hanging out after class one day, supposedly studying for their upcoming midterms, but Harley’s sat at his desk with a bottle of black nail polish and is slowly rubbing off the remnants of his last paintjob with a cotton pad. Peter’s leaning with his back to the wall on Harley’s bed, watching him from across the room, his biology exam notes spread around him.

He watches Harley carefully tip the bottle of acetone upside down so it soaks the cotton pad and presses it to his nail. Peter knows he’ll leave it for a little while, so the chemicals break down the polish, he’s watched Harley do this often enough that he knows black’s hard to get off.

Peter takes a breath, steeling himself for reasons he doesn’t even know.

“Harl?” He calls, just slightly louder than the music playing from Harley’s computer.

Harley doesn’t look back when he replies. “Yeah, darlin’?”

It’s been years of Harley calling him darling in that honeyed accent of his, Peter’s used to it, but like everything else that Peter resolutely and absolutely doesn’t think about, this time it makes something swoop low in his stomach and butterfly settle high amongst his rib cage.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You just did,” Harley says, and even from across the room Peter can see a hint of a smirk flirt across his face. “But you can ask another.”

Peter isn’t in the mood to deal with smarmy Harley James Keener attitude right now. Too focused on the fact that this is finally his chance to figure out Harley just a little bit more.

“Why do you wear nail polish?”

He can tell Harley wasn’t expecting that particular question in the way his shoulders tense and he goes still.

But this is Harley—Harley should know why he’s asking.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he rambles anyways, because Harley still hasn’t said anything. “I just wanted to know, you don’t have to tell me, like you’ve done it the entire time we’ve known each other, I think it’s cool—”

“Peter, darlin’,” Harley interjects, fond amusement colouring his voice. “Calm down.”

Peter takes a breath, lets it out. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

Peter’s shoulders slump when Harley remains quiet for the following minute, only for Harley to get up from his desk and make his way over towards the bed, settling in amongst Peter’s textbooks and worksheets and the green bedsheets. 

“Because my dad always hated it,” is what Harley eventually says.

“Oh.”

It’s kind of half the answer Peter was expecting. He knows enough, between Tony and what Harley’s told him, to connect the dots.

“I’m sorry.”

“Darlin’,” Harley says, looking at him with those sea-blue eyes. “You gotta stop apologising for stuff that ain’t your fault.”

Peter flushes. “Do you think you could paint mine? I’ve never done it before.”

“I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t want black though, right?”

“Do you have any pastels?” Peter asks, in a smaller voice than he means to.

Harley nods. “I’m sure I’ve got some somewhere, I usually save ‘em for Morgan or Abby.”

Harley stands up to go find them, and Peter starts nervously playing with the fraying hem of his hoodie. It’s a faded red and too large and has Rose Hill High scrawled across it in big block letters and not his hoodie at all.

This is when it clicks—the oh moment in his head, that maybe he likes Harley just a bit more than friends should.

Harley returns in the midst of this revelation, setting the handful of coloured polishes down on his bedside table, clinking as the glass bottles knock against each other.

Peter wonders how his world hasn’t been tipped upside down and come to a grinding halt, too.

“This was all I could find,” Harley says, sitting across from him on the bed. “Gonna look like you dipped your hand in a bag of Easter eggs.”

He’s right—there’s pale pinks and blues and yellows like right out of a candy store, but Peter loves them.

“No, it’s fine. They’re nice colours.”

Harley smiles at him, bright and beautiful, and Peter has to marvel, just a bit how he didn’t realise before the depth of his feelings.

“Give me your hand.”

Peter holds his hand out for Harley to take. They’ve held hands before—Peter’s a tactile person—but there’s something new about this, the way Harley gently twists his fingers around so he can paint them comfortably and correctly.

“What colour do you want me to start with?” Harley asks, quiet, his voice barely a rumble in his chest.

Peter looks up at him. Harley’s looking down at his hand and back at the colours on the table every now and again, like he’s thinking of the perfect pattern for Peter’s nails. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is starting to set; it floods the room in a wash of orange-gold, and in the sunlight Harley glows. The freckles across his nose, the faint blonde in his hair gilded and shining, and the clear crystal of his eyes, hidden ever so slightly beneath gold eyelashes. It makes Peter a little breathless, just looking at him.

“You chose,” Peter finally says, maybe a little but too long after Harley asked. “You know more than me.”

Harley sweeps the pad of his thumb over Peter’s fingernail, just enough that it catches amongst the groves of his fingerprint.

“Yeah, okay,” Harley says, and reaches for the yellow.

They sit in silence as Peter watches Harley paint his nails. Yellow on his thumb, then egg-blue on his forefinger. The pale millennial pink goes on his middle finger, then blue, then yellow again.

Harley’s moved onto Peter’s other hand by the time Peter figures out how to say it.

“Harley?”

Harley hums in acknowledgement, too busy concentrating on painting his nail blue without leaving streaks.

“I really like you,” Peter confesses.

Harley gives a short laugh, still doesn’t look up. “I’d hope so, we are best friends, right, Parker?”

“No,” he says, and waits until Harley stops painting and lifts his head. “I like you like you.”

“Oh, okay,” Harley gives a simple shake of his shaggy blonde head, and goes back to painting Peter’s nails with careful concentration. “I like you like you, too.”

Peter blinks. “Don’t just say that.”

“I’m not.”

“Harley.” “Peter,” Harley parrots, finally looking up at him. “Have you met you? Of course, I like you, dumbass.”

“You’re the worst, Keener.”

Harley smirks once more. “No, I’m not. You like me like me.”

“I—” Peter starts, cutting himself off, because Harley’s leaning closer.

“Peter,” Harley says, his voice soft and low. “Can I kiss you?”

Peter nods, unable to speak, and then—

Harley kisses him.

It’s soft and it’s sweet and it’s not at all how Peter imagined his first kiss with a boy would be. But it’s Harley and that counts for something. Harley’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, light and tender, and Peter has to remind himself he currently has wet pastel paint on his nails and can’t sink his hands into Harley’s hair without tragedy occurring.

Harley tilts his head, thumb sweeping across Peter’s cheekbone, deepening the kiss just enough that those butterflies in Peter’s stomach all fly off at once.

“So,” Harley says, after they pull back and the both of them smile like fools. “Do you wanna paint my nails?”

“They’ll look bad.”

“No they won’t,” Harley disagrees, and, because he knows that Peter likes him likes him, says, “They’ll be perfect, ‘cause it’s you.”

Peter leans forward to brush a shy kiss to Harley’s cheek, and reaches for the black nail polish.

[stupendousbookworm]

@adellovesrowan @weirdcursedvaultkid

hi my name is BENshine rain'bows lollipop kitty cat and i have long blonde hair (thats how i got my name) with pink streaks and purple tips that reach my waist i have bright blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like barbie girl (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm a fairy but my wings are invisible and i look normal. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a girly girl (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly pink. I love Justice and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a pink tight crop top with matching lace around it and a hot pink miniskirt, pink fishnets and pink heels. I was wearing pink lipstick, white foundation, pink eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts It was bright and sunny, which I was very happy about. A lot of goffs stared at me. I smiled, giggled and waved at them

[somecunttookmyurl]

Just to show you what this power looks like in your inbox. I present to you, my immortal, in it's entirety.

Chapter 1.

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!

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Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

“What’s up Draco?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

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AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!

Chapter 2.

AN: Fangz 2 bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da chapta! BTW preps stop flaming ma story ok!

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The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!” she said excitedly.

“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.

“Do you like Draco?” she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.

“Yeah right!” she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me.

“Hi.” he said.

“Hi.” I replied flirtily.

“Guess what.” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade.” he told me.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love GC. They are my favorite band, besides MCR.

“Well…. do you want to go with me?” he asked.

I gasped.

Chapter 3.

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN RAVEN! oh yeah, BTW I don’t own dis or da lyrics 4 Good Chralotte.

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On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn’t put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Draco was waiting there in front of his flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

“Hi Draco!” I said in a depressed voice.

“Hi Ebony.” he said back. We walked into his flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Good Charlotte.

“You come in cold, you're covered in blood They're all so happy you've arrived The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom She sets you free into this life.” sang Joel (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song).

“Joel is so fucking hot.” I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I said.

“Really?” asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Joel and he’s going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch.” I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Draco. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn’t go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into……………………… the Forbidden Forest!

Chapter 4.

AN: I sed stup flaming ok ebony’s name is ENOBY nut mary su OK! DRACO IS SOO IN LUV wif her dat he is acting defrent! dey nu eechodder b4 ok!

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“DRACO!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Draco didn’t answer but he stopped the flying car and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.

“What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily.

“Ebony?” he asked.

“What?” I snapped.

Draco leaned in extra-close and I looked into his gothic red eyes (he was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing sorrow and evilness and then suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore.

And then…………… suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! ” I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then….

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!”

It was…………………………………………………….Dumbledore!

Chapter 5.

AN: STOP flaming! if u flam it menz ur a prep or a posr! Da only reson Dumbledeor swor is coz he had a hedache ok an on tup of dat he wuz mad at dem 4 having sexx! PS im nut updating umtil I get five good revoiws!

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Dumbledore made and Draco and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.

“You ludacris fools!” he shouted.

I started to cry tears of blood down my pallid face. Draco comforted me. When we went back to the castle Dumbledore took us to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall who were both looking very angry.

“They were having sexual intercourse in the Forbidden Forest!” he yelled in a furious voice.

“Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?” asked Professor McGonagall.

“How dare you?” demanded Professor Snape.

And then Draco shrieked. “BECAUSE I LOVE HER!”

Everyone was quiet. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall still looked mad but Professor Snape said. “Fine. Very well. You may go up to your rooms.”

Draco and I went upstairs while the teachers glared at us.

“Are you okay, Ebony?” Draco asked me gently.

“Yeah I guess.” I lied. I went to the girl’s dorm and brushed my teeth and my hair and changed into a low-cut black floor-length dress with red lace all around it and black high heels. When I came out….

Draco was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to sing ‘I just wanna live’ by Good Charlotte. I was so flattered, even though he wasn’t supposed to be there. We hugged and kissed. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back into his room.

Chapter 6.

AN: shjt up prepz ok! PS I wnot update ubtil u give me goood revows!

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The next day I woke up in my coffin. I put on a black miniskirt that was all ripped around the end and a matching top with red skulls all over it and high heeled boots that were black. I put on two pairs of skull earrings, and two crosses in my ears. I spray-painted my hair with purple.

In the Great Hall, I ate some Count Chocula cereal with blood instead of milk, and a glass of red blood. Suddenly someone bumped into me. All the blood spilled over my top.

“Bastard!” I shouted angrily. I regretted saying it when I looked up cause I was looking into the pale white face of a gothic boy with spiky black hair with red streaks in it. He was wearing so much eyeliner that I was going down his face and he was wearing black lipstick. He didn’t have glasses anymore and now he was wearing red contact lenses just like Draco’s and there was no scar on his forhead anymore. He had a manly stubble on his chin. He had a sexy English accent. He looked exactly like Joel Madden. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I’m a girl so I didn’t get one you sicko.

“I’m so sorry.” he said in a shy voice.

“That’s all right. What’s your name?” I questioned.

“My name’s Harry Potter, although most people call me Vampire these days.” he grumbled.

“Why?” I exclaimed.

“Because I love the taste of human blood.” he giggled.

“Well, I am a vampire.” I confessed.

“Really?” he whimpered.

“Yeah.” I roared.

We sat down to talk for a while. Then Draco came up behind me and told me he had a surprise for me so I went away with him.

Chapter 7. Bring me 2 life

AN: wel ok u guyz im only writting dis cuz I got 5 god reviuws. n BTW I wont rite da nxt chapter til I git TIN god vons! STO FLAMING OR ILL REPORT U! Evony isn’t a Marie Sue ok she isn’t perfect SHES A SATANITS! n she has problemz shes depressed 4 godz sake!

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Draco and I held our pale white hands with black nail polish as we went upstairs. I was wearing red Satanist sings on my nails in red nail polish (AN: c doez dat sound lik a Maru Sue 2 u?). I waved to Vampire. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I was going out with Draco. Anyway, I went upstairs excitedly with Draco. We went into his room and locked the door. Then…………

We started frenching passively and we took off each others clothes enthusiastically. He felt me up before I took of my top. Then I took off my black leather bra and he took off his pants. We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his boy’s thingy in mine and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)

“Oh Draco, Draco!” I screamed while getting an orgasm when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Draco’s arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words………… Vampire!

I was so angry.

“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.

“No! No! But you don’t understand!” Draco pleaded. But I knew too much.

“No, you fucking idiot!” I shouted. “You probably have AIDs anyway!”

I put on my clothes all huffily and then stomped out. Draco ran out even though he was naked. He had a really big you-know-what but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Vampire’s classroom where he was having a lesson with Professor Snape and some other people.

“VAMPIRE POTTER, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” I yelled.

Chapter 8.

AN: stop flassing ok! if u do den u r a prep!

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Everyone in the class stared at me and then Draco came into the room even though he was naked and started begging me to take him back.

“Ebony, it’s not what you think!” Draco screamed sadly.

My friend B’loody Mary Smith smiled at me understatedly. She flipped her long waste-length gothic black hair and opened her crimson eyes like blood that she was wearing contact lenses on. She had pale white skin that she was wearing white makeup on. Hermione was kidnapped when she was born. Her real parents are vampires and one of them is a witch but Voldemort killed her mother and her father committed suicide because he was depressed about it. She still has nightmares about it and she is very haunted and depressed. It also turns out her real last name is Smith and not Granger. (Since she has converted to Satanism she is in Slytherin now not Griffindoor. )

“What is it that you desire, you ridiculous dimwit!” Snape demeaned angrily in his cold voice but I ignored him.

“Vampire, I can’t believe you cheated on me with Draco!” I shouted at him.

Everyone gasped.

I don’t know why Ebony was so mad at me. I had went out with Vampire (I’m bi and so is Ebony) for a while but then he broke my heart. He dumped me because he liked Britney, a stupid preppy fucker. We were just good friends now. He had gone through horrible problems, and now he was gothic. (Haha, like I would hang out with a prep.)

“But I’m not going out with Draco anymore!” said Vampire.

“Yeah fucking right! Fuck off, you bastard!” I screamed. I ran out of the room and into the Forbidden Forest where I had lost my virility to Draco and then I started to bust into tears.

Chapter 9.

AN: stop flaming ok! I dntn red all da boox! dis is frum da movie ok so itz nut my folt if dumbeldor swers! besuizds I SED HE HAD A HEDACHE! and da reson snap dosent lik harry now is coz hes christian and vampire is a satanist! MCR ROX!

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I was so mad and sad. I couldn’t believe Draco for cheating on me. I began to cry against the tree where I did it with Draco.

Then all of a suddenly, an horrible man with red eyes and no nose and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! He didn’t have a nose (basically like Voldemort in the movie) and he was wearing all black but it was obvious he wasn’t gothic. It was…… Voldemort!

“No!” I shouted in a scared voice but then Voldemort shouted “Imperius!” and I couldn’t run away.

“Crookshanks!” I shouted at him. Voldemort fell of his broom and started to scream. I felt bad for him even though I’m a sadist so I stopped.

“Ebony.” he yelled. “Thou must kill Vampire Potter!”

I thought about Vampire and his sexah eyes and his gothic black hair and how his face looks just like Joel Madden. I remembered that Draco had said I didn’t understand, so I thought, what if Draco went out with Vampire before I went out with him and they broke up?

“No, Voldemort!” I shouted back.

Voldemort gave me a gun. “No! Please!” I begged.

“Thou must!” he yelled. “If thou does not, then I shall kill thy beloved Draco!”

“How did you know?” I asked in a surprised way.

Voldemort got a dude-ur-so-retarded look on his face. “I hath telekinesis.” he answered cruelly. “And if you doth not kill Vampire, then thou know what will happen to Draco!” he shouted. Then he flew away angrily on his broomstick.

I was so scared and mad I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly Draco came into the woods.

“Draco!” I said. “Hi!”

“Hi.” he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Joel Madden and Gerard Way.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No.” he answered.

“I’m sorry I got all mad at you but I thought you cheated on me.” I expelled.

“That’s okay.” he said all depressed and we went back into Hogwarts together making out.

Chapter 10.

AN: stup it u gay fags if u donot lik ma story den fukk off! ps it turnz out b’loody mary isn’t a muggle afert al n she n vampire r evil datz y dey movd houses ok!

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I was really scared about Vlodemort all day. I was even upset went to rehearsals with my gothic metal band Bloody Gothic Rose 666. I am the lead singer of it and I play guitar. People say that we sound like a cross between GC, Slipknot and MCR. The other people in the band are B’loody Mary, Vampire, Draco, Ron (although we call him Diabolo now. He has black hair now with blue streaks in it.) and Hargrid. Only today Draco and Vampire were depressed so they weren’t coming and we wrote songs instead. I knew Draco was probably slitting his wrists (he wouldn’t die because he was a vampire too and the only way you can kill a vampire is with a c-r-o-s-s (there’s no way I’m writing that) or a steak) and Vampire was probably watching a depressing movie like The Corpse Bride. I put on a black leather shirt that showed off my boobs and tiny matching miniskirt that said Simple Plan on the butt. You might think I’m a slut but I’m really not.

We were singing a cover of ‘Helena’ and at the end of the song I suddenly bust into tears.

“Ebony! Are you OK?” B’loody Mary asked in a concerted voice.

“What the fuck do you think?” I asked angrily. And then I said. “Well, Voldemort came and the fucking bastard told me to fucking kill Harry! But I don’t want to kill him, because, he’s really nice, even if he did go out with Draco. But if I don’t kill Harry, then Voldemort, will fucking kill Draco!” I burst into tears. Suddenly Draco jumped out from behind a wall.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me!” he shouted. “How could you- you- you fucking poser muggle bitch!” (c is dat out of character?)

I started to cry and cry. Draco started to cry too all sensitive. Then he ran out crying.

We practiced for one more hour. Then suddenly Dumbeldore walked in angrily! His eyes were all fiery and I knew this time it wasn’t cause he had a headache.

“What have you done!” He started to cry wisely. (c dats basically nut swering and dis time he wuz relly upset n u wil c y) “Ebony Draco has been found in his room. He committed suicide by slitting his wrists.”

Chapter 11.

AN: i sed stup flaming up prepz! c if dis chaptr is srupid!1111 it delz wit rly sris issus! sp c 4 urself if itz ztupid brw fangz 2 ma frend raven 4 hleping me!

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“NO!” I screamed. I was horrorfied! B’loody Mary tried to comfort me but I told her fuck off and I ran to my room crying myself. Dumbledore chased after me shouting but he had to stop when I went into my room cause he would look like a perv that way.

Anyway, I started crying tears of blood and then I slit both of my wrists. They got all over my clothes so I took them off and jumped into the bath angrily while I put on a Linkin Park song at full volume. I grabbed a steak and almost stuck it into my heart to commit suicide. I was so fucking depressed! I got out of the bathtub and put on a black low-cut dress with lace all over it sandly. I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Then I looked out the window and screamed… Snap was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Loopin was masticating to it! They were sitting on their broomsticks.

“EW, YOU FUCKING PERVS, STOP LOOKING AT ME NAKED! ARE YOU PEDOS OR WHAT!” I screamed putting on a black towel with a picture of Marilyn Mason on it. Suddenly Vampire ran in.

“Abra Kedavra!” he yelled at Snape and Loopin pointing his womb. I took my gun and shot Snape and Loopin a gazillion times and they both started screaming and the camera broke. Suddenly, Dumblydore ran in. “Ebony, it has been revealed that someone has - NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted looking at Snape and Loopin and then he waved his wand and suddenly…

Hargrid ran outside on his broom and said everyone we need to talk.

“What do you know, Hargrid? You’re just a little Hogwarts student!”

“I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT….” Hargirid paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!”

“This cannot be.” Snap said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Dumblydore’s wand had shot him. “There must be other factors.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY!” I yelled in madly.

Loopin held up the camera triumelephantly. “The lens may be ruined but the tape is still there!”

I felt faint, more than I normally do like how it feels when you do not drink enough blood.

“Why are you doing this?” Loopin said angrily while he rubbed his dirty hands on his clook.

And then I heard the words that I had heard before but not from him. I did not know whether to feel shocked and happy or to bite him and drink his blood because I felt faint.

“BECAUSE…BECAUSE….” Hargid said and he paused in the air dramitaclly, waving his wand in the air. Then swooped he in singing to the tune of a gothic version of a song by 50 Cent.

“Because you’re goffic?” Snap asked in a little afraid voice cause he was afraind it meant he was connected with Satan.

“Because I LOVE HER!”

Chapter 12.

AN: stop f,aing ok hargrid is a pedo 2 a lot of ppl in amerikan skoolz r lik dat I wunted 2 adres da ishu! how du u no snap iant kristian plus hargrid isn’t really in luv wif ebony dat was sedric ok!

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I was about to slit my wrists again with the silver knife that Drago had given me in case anything happened to him. He had told me to use it valiantly against an enemy but I knew that we must both go together.

“NO!” I THOUGHT IT WAS HAIRgrid but it was Vampire. He started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.

I stopped. “How did u know?”

“I saw it! And my scar turned back into the lightning bolt!”

“NO!” I ran up closer. “I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.

“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and it turned back into the lightning bolt! Save me! then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”

Anyway I was in the school nurse’s office now recovering from my slit wrists. Snap and Loopin and HAHRID were there too. They were going to St. Mango’s after they recovered cause they were pedofiles and you can’t have those fucking pervs teaching in a school with lots of hot gurlz. Dumbledore had constipated the cideo camera they took of me naked. I put up my middle finger at them.

Anyway Hargrid came into my hospital bed holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“Enoby I need to tell u somethnig.” he said in a v. serious voice, giving me the roses.

“Fuck off.” I told him. “You know I fucking hate the color pink anyway, and I don’t like fucked up preps like you.” I snapped. Hargrid had been mean to me before for being gottik.

“No Enoby.” Hargrid says. “Those are not roses.”

“What, are they goffs too you poser prep?” I asked cause I was angry that he had brought me pink roses.

“I saved your life!” He yelled angrily. “No you didn’t I replied.” “You saved me from getting a Paris Hilton p- video made from your shower scene and being vued by Snap and Loopin.” Who MASTABATED (c is dat speld rong) to it he added silently.

“Whatever!” I yelled angirly.

He pointed his wand at the pink roses. “These aren’t roses.” He suddenly looked at them with an evil look in his eye and muttered Well If you wanted Honesty that’s all you haD TO SAY! .

“That’s not a spell that’s an MCR song.” I corrected him wisely.

“I know, I was just warming up my vocal cordes.” Then he screamed. “Petulus merengo mi kremicli romacio(4 all u cool goffic mcr fans out, there, that is a tribute! specially for raven I love you girl!)imo noto okayo!”

And then the roses turned into a huge black flame floating in the middle of the air. And it was black. Now I knew he wasn’t a prep.

“OK I believe you now wtf is Drako?”

Hairgrid rolled his eyes. I looked into the balls of flame but I could c nothing.

“U c, Enobby,” Dumblydore said, watching the two of us watching the flame. “2 c wht iz n da flmes(HAHA U REVIEWRS FLAMES GEDDIT) u mst find urslf 1st, k?”

“I HAVE FOUND MYSELF OK YOU MEAN OLD MAN!” Hargrid yelled. dUMBLydore lookd shockd. I guess he didn’t have a headache or else he would have said something back.

Hairgrid stormed off back into his bed. “U r a liar, prof dumbledoree!”

Anyway when I got better I went upstairs and put on a black leather minidress that was all ripped on the ends with lace on it. There was some corset stuff on the front. Then I put on black fishnets and black high-heeled boots with pictures of Billie Joe Armstrong on them. I put my hair all out around me so I looked like Samara from the Ring (if u don’t know who she iz ur a prep so fuk off!) and I put on blood-red lipstick, black eyeliner and black lip gloss.

“You look kawai, girl.” B’loody Mary said sadly. “Fangs (geddit) you do too.” I said sadly too, but I was still upset. I slit both of my wrists feeling totally depressed and I sucked all the blood. I cried again in my bathroom and put the shades on so Snap and Loopin couldn’t spy on me this time. I went to some classes. Vampire was in the Hair of Magical Magic Creatures. He looked all depressed because Draco had disappeared and he had used to be in love with Draco. He was sucking some blood from a Hufflepuff.

“Hi.” he said in a depressed way. “Hi back.” I said in an wqually said way.

We both looked at each other for some time. Harry had beautiful red gothic eyes so much like Dracos. Then……… we jumped on each other and started screwing each other.

“STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS!” shouted Professor McGoggle who was watching us and so was everyone else.

“Vampire you fucker!” I said slapping him. “Stop trying to screw me. You know I loved Draco!” I shouted and then I ran away angrily.

Just then he started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.

“NO!” I ran up closer.

“I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.

“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”

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SPECIAL FANGZ 2 RAVEN MY GOFFIX BLOOD SISTA WTF UR SUPPOZD 2 RIT DIS!11111111

HEY RAVEN DO U KNOW WHERE MY SWEATER I

Chapter 13.

AN: raven fangz 4 gelpin me agen im sory ah tok ur postr of gerard but dat guy is such a fokin sexbom! PREPZ STOP FLAMIGNG!

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Vampire and I ran up the stairs looking for Dumbledore. We were so scared.

“Dumbledore Dumblydore!” we both yelled. Dumbledore came there.

“What is it that you want now you despicable snobs?” he asked angrily.

“Volsemort has Draco!” we shouted at the same time.

He laughed in an evil voice.

“No! Don’t! We need to save Draco!” we begged.

“No.” he said meanly. “I don’t give a darn what Voldemort does to Draco. Not after how much he misbehaved in school especially with YOU Ebony.” he said while he frowned looking at me. “Besides I never liked him that much anyway.” then he walked away. Vampire started crying. “My Draco!” he moaned. (AN: don’t u fik gay guyz r lik so hot!)

“Its okay!” I tried to tell him but that didn’t stop him. He started to cry tears of blood. Then he had a brainstorm. “I had an idea!” he exclaimed.

“What?” I asked him.

“You’ll see.” he said. He took out his wand and did a spell. Then…… suddenly we were in Voldemprt’s lair!

We ran in with our wands out just as we heard a croon voice say. “Allah Kedavra!” It was……………………………….. Voldemort!

Chapter 14.

AN: fuk off PREPZ ok! Raven fangz 4 helpin agen. im sory ah kudnt update but I wuz derperessd n I had 2 go 2 da hospital kuz I slit muh rists. PS im nut updating til u giv me 10 god revoiws!

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WARNING: SUM OF DIS CHAPTA IS XTREMLY SCRAY. VIOWER EXCRETION ADVISD.

We ran to where Volcemort was. It turned out that Voldemort wasn’t there. Instead the fat guy who killed Cedric was. Draco was there crying tears of blood. Snaketail was torturing him. Vampire and I ran in front of Snaketail.

“Rid my sight you despicable preps!” he shouted as we started shooting him with the gun he Then suddenly he looked at me and he fell down with a lovey-dovey look in his eyes. “EbonyIloveyouwiluhavesexwithme.” he said. (in dis he is sixteen yrs old so hes not a pedofile ok)

“Huh?” I asked. ”Enoby I love you will you have sex with me?” asked Snaketail. I started laughing crudely. “What the fuck? You torture my bf and then you expect me to fuck you? God, you are so fucked up you fucking bastard.” I said angrily. Then I stabbed him in the heart. Blood pored out of it like a fountain.

“Nooooooooooooo!” he screamed. He started screaming and running around. Then he fell down and died. I brust into tears sadly.

“Snaketail what art thou doing?” called Voldemort. Then…… he started coming! We could hear his high heels clacking to us. So we got on our broomsticks and we flew to Hogwarts. We went to my room. Vampire went away. There I started crying.

“What’s wrong honey?” asked Draco taking off his clothes so we could screw. He had a sex-pack (geddit cuz hes so sexah) and a really huge you-know-what and everything.

“Its so unfair!” I yielded. “Why can’t I just be ugly or plain like all da other girls and preps here except for B’loody Mary, because she’s not ugly or anything.”

“Why would you wanna be ugly? I don’t like the preps anyway. They are such fucking sluts.” answered Draco.

“Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he’s in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn’t Satan have made me less beautiful?” I shouted angrily. (an” don’t wory enoby isn’t a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) “Im good at too many things! WHY CAN’T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT’S A FUCKING CURSE!” I shouted and then I ran away.

Chapter 15.

AN: stup flaming ok! btw u suk frum no on evry tim sum1 flams me im gona slit muh ristsz! fangz 2 raven 4 hlpein!

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“Ebony Ebony!” shouted Draco sadly. “No, please, come back!”

But I was too mad.

“Whatever! Now u can go anh have sex with Vampire!” I shouted. I stormed into my room and closed my black door with my blood-red key. It had a picture of Marylin Manson on it. He looked so sexy in a way that reminded me of Draco and Vampire. I started to cry and weep. I took a razor and started to slit my wrists. I drank the blood all depressed. Then I looked at my black GC watch and noticed it was time to go to Biology class.

I put on a short ripped black gothic dress that said Anarchy on the front in blood red letters and was all ripped and a spiky belt. Under that I put on ripped black fishnets and boots that said Joel all over them with blood red letters. I put my ebony black hair out. Anyway I went downstairs feeling all sad and depressed as usual. I did sum advanced Biology work. I was turning a bloody pentagram into a black guitar. Suddenly the guitar turned to Draco!

“Enoby I love you!” he shouted sadly. “I dnot care what those fucker preps and posers fink. Ur da most beautiful girl in the world. Before I met you I used to want to commit suicide all the time. Now I just wanna fucking be with you. I fucking love you!.” Then……………. he started to sing “Da Chronicles of Life and Death” (we considered it our song now cuz we fell in love when Joel was singing it) right in front of the entire class! His singing voice was so amazing and gothic and sexxy like a cross between Gerard, Joel, Chester, Pierre and Marilyn Manson (AN: don’t u fink dos guyz r so hot. if u dnot no who dey r get da fuk out od hr!) .

“OMFG.” I said after he was finished. Some fucking preps stared at us but I just stuck up my middle fingers (that were covered in black nail polish and were entwined with Draco’s now) at them. “I love you!” I said and then we started to kiss just like Hilary Duff (i fukin h8 dat bitch) and CMM in a Cinderella Story. Then we went away holding hands. Loopin shouted at us but he stopped cuz everyone was clapping by how sexy we looked 2gether. Then I saw a poster saying that MCR would have a concert in Hogsmede right then. We looked at each other all shocked and then we went 2gether. Chapter 16.

AN: u no wut! sut up ok! proov 2 me ur nut prepz! raven u suk u fuken bich gimme bak mah fukijn swteet ur supsd 2 rit dis! Raven wtf u bich ur suposd to dodis! BTW fangz 2 britney5655 4 techin muh japnese!

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We ran happily to Hogsmede. There we saw the stage where GC had played. We ran in happly. MCR were there playing ‘Helena’. I was so fucking happy! Gerard looked even sexier than he did in da pictures. Even Draco thought so, I could totally see him getting an erection but it didn’t matter cuz I knew know that we were da only true ones for eachother. I was wearing a black leather minidress and black leather platinum boots with red ripped fishnets. Draco was wearing a black baggy MCR t-shirt and black baggy pants. Anyway, we stated moshing to Helena. We frenched. We ran up 2 the front of the band to stage-dive. Suddenly, Gerard pulled off his mask. So did the others. We gasped. It wasn’t them at all. It was.,……………………….. Volsemort and da Death Dealers!

“Wtf Draco im not going to a concert wid u!” I shouted angrily. “Not after what happened to me last time? Even if its MCR n u no how much I lik them”

“What cause we…you know…” he gadgetted uncomfortbli cause guys don’t like to talk a bout you-know-what.

“Yeah cause we you know!” I yielded in an angry voice.

“We won’t do that again.” Draco promised. “This time, we’re going with an ESCORT.”

“OMFG wtf/ Are you giving into the mainstream?” I asked. “So I guess ur a prep or a Christina or what now?”

“NO.” he muttered loudly.

“R u becoming a prep or what?” I shootd angrily.

“Enoby! I’m not! Pls come with me!” He fell down to his knees and started singing ‘Da world is black’ by GC to me.

I was flattened cause that’s not even a single, he had memorized da lyrks just 4 me!

“OK then I guess I will have to.” I said and then we frenched 4 a while and I went up 2 my room.

B’loody Mary was standing there. “Hajimemashite gurl.” she said happily (she spex Japanese so do i. dat menz ‘how do u do’ in japanese). “BTW Willow that fucking poser got expuld. she failed al her klasses and she skepped math.” (an: RAVEN U FUKIN SUK! FUK U!)

“It serves that fuking bich right.” I laughed angrily.

Well anyway we where felling all deprezzed. We wutsched some goffic movies like Das niteMARE b4 xmas. “Maybe Willow will die too.” I said.

“Kawai.” B’loody Mair shook her head enrgtically lethrigcly. “Oh yeah o have a confession after she got expuld I murdered her and den loopin did it with her cause he’s a necphilak.”

“Kawai.” I commnted happily . We talked to each other in silence for da rest uv da movie.

“OH HEY BTw, im going to a concert with drako tonight in Hogsmeade with mcr.” I sed. “ I need to wear like da hotset outfit EVA.”

B’Loody Mairy Nodded ENREGeticALLlY. “Omfg totally lets go shopping.”

“In Hot Topic, right?” I asked, already getting out my spshcial Hot Topic Loiyalty carde.

“No.” My head snaped up.

‘WHAT?” my head spuin. I could not believe it. “B’Loody Mary are u a PREP?”

“NOOOO!NOOOO!” She laughed. “I found some cool goffic stores near Hogwarts that’s all.”

“Hu told u abut them” I askd sure it would be Drako or Diabolo or Vampire(don’t even SAY that nam to me!). Or me.

“Dumblydore.” She sed. “Let me just call our broms.”

“OMFFG DUMBLYDORE?” I asked quietly.

“Yah I saw the map for Hogsmeade on his desk.” She told me. “Come on let’s go.”

We were going in a few punkgoff stores SPECIALLY for the concerts in Hogsmeade. The salesperson was OMG HOTTER THAN GERARD EXCEPT NOT CAUSE THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE and he gave me a few dresses. “We only have these for da real goffs.”

“Da real goffs?” Me and B’Loody Mary asked.

“Yah u wouldn’t believe how many posers ther are in this town man! Yesterday loopin and snap tried to buy a goffic camera pouch.” He shook his head. “I dint even no they had a camera.”

“OMFG NO THEIR GONNA SPY ON ME AGAIN!” I cried, running out of the changing room wearing a long black dress with lots of red tulle coming out and very low-cut with a huge slit.

“Oh my satan you have to buy that outfit” The salesperson said.

“Yeah it looks totlly hot.” said B’Loody Mary.

“You know what I am gona give it to you free cause u look really hot in that utfit. Hey are you gonna be at the concert tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah I am actually.” I looked back at him. “Hey BTW my name’s ebondy dark’ness dementia TARA way what’s yours?”

“Tom Rid.” He said and ran a hand through his black-dyed hair. “maybe I’ll see you there tonight.”

“Yeah I don’t think so cause I am going there with my bf drako you sick perv!” I yelled angrily, but before he could beg me to go with him, Hargrid flew in on his black broom looking worried. “OMFG EBONDY U NEED OT GET BACK INTO THE CASTLE NOW!”

huh. my immortal is shorter than i remember

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 7

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: Drug use? A/N: Y’ALL ARE THE BEST!!!! CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | 

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“I’m a nice guy, right? I mean I got a place, roof don’t leak none, got food...Hell, I gave it to her good, too. She always moaned like a whore when I gave it to her. She loved it, especially the rough stuff.”

“I mean, you did say you were gon’ kill her.” Wade giggled, inhaling deeply from a bong and momentarily taking his eyes off Travis. His shaggy blond hair was in need of a wash, but from the state of his shirt, it was clear cleanliness wasn’t at the forefront of any of his thoughts. 

Tapping on a dying lightbulb that sat next to his recliner, Travis grinned. He took a long drag off his cigarette, swilled it with lukewarm beer, and finally nodded. “Well, that’s ‘cause she disobeyed. She doesn’t have a lot to remember, really. Keep the house clean, keep the food hot, keep her legs spread, keep takin’ ‘er pills. Four things. That’s all she needs to remember, but that seems too hard for ‘er. You tell me Wade. If someone finds it too hard to remember four things, should they really be breathin’?”

“No sir,” Wade laughed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and putting the whole lot in his mouth at once while shaking his head. 

“Exactly. And seein’ as how she’s mine, it’s my right to do with ‘er as I please.” 

“Can’t argue with that one, boss.”

Standing, Travis made his way to the kitchen, pausing in front of a mirror his fiancee had broken with her face some time ago. Slipped into the frame was a picture, taken years before on a Polaroid. He stroked over the image with his thumb, smiling. Travis could remember the day like it was yesterday. She’d tried to surprise him by bleaching her hair a white-blond with pink streaks. He took a deep breath,trying to keep from getting hard as he remembered how rough he’d given it to her that night after the party at the drag strip. In his experience, blondes were always bimbos, good for one thing and one thing only. He treated her like a blonde that night, then made her dye it back to its original color the next day; it didn’t matter to him that she had a hard time moving her hands up to her head, so long as she got the job done. 

His reflection, disfigured among the cracks of glass, made him look more sinister than usual and it suited Travis’ mood. His grin grew as he met his own gaze; tri-colored eyes reminiscent of a broken marble stared back, amplifying the decision he’d already made. Running a hand through his mussed russet hair, he looked over his shoulder at his best friend before opening the fridge and grabbing a fresh beer.

“Wade? What d’you do when a deer runs away from ya out into the bush?”

“Y’hunt it. Why?”

“Well, my dear ran away, Wade. Get your stuff and call the guys. We’re gonna go huntin’.” 

Sasha couldn’t help but smile as she read over the second note Sy had left her in as many days. To him, it was probably nothing more than common decency, but to Sasha it was such a tender gesture of affection that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

Feeling better than she had in a long time, she slipped out of bed, leaving the puppies to sleep and moved to get ready for the day, intending on finally surprising Sy with the breakfast she’d planned on making the day before. After a quick stop in the bathroom to tie her hair up in a floppy bun, Sasha put on a touch of the makeup she’d bought, slipped into the second outfit she’d tried on, and with new shoes in hand, headed downstairs to start cooking. 

Though she hadn’t cooked from scratch a lot in her past, Sasha had always felt it important that a person have one or two recipes that they could make to near-perfection. Her favorite by far was her breakfast burritos and she’d yet to have someone fail to compliment her on them after trying them.

After a quick rummage through Sy’s fridge, she set about making two for him and one for herself, Sasha watching the clock closely, knowing full well she had a limited time frame to get the food to him before his meeting with the buyer. Where Sy sang, Sasha preferred to dance in the kitchen as she cooked, every movement accompanied by a happy little shuffle of her feet, whether or not there was music playing. 

Before, she’d have to watch herself, as dancing was looked down on, but now, feeling freer than ever before, she couldn’t  help but make her movements a little more grandiose. To anyone looking in, she might have looked a little strange, dancing and smiling from ear to ear when there was no music playing, but Sasha couldn’t have cared less. She was happy for the first time in a long time and she wasn’t going to hide it.

With the kitchen cleaned and the dogs all given a bit of bacon for their good behavior, Sasha set off with everything she’d made, the food wrapped in tin foil then gathered in a clean kitchen towel for easier carrying. Along with the thermos of hot coffee and a bottle of water in place of her OJ, Sasha headed off by foot to find Sy, not ready to try her hand at the ATV that sat parked at the back of the house. 

Her smile grew as she neared the barn, hearing an upbeat country tune playing through speakers she could only assume were hardwired into the building itself. Seeing Wyatt, Sasha put a finger to her lips, silently asking him to stay quiet. The taller man only smiled, shifting his gaze back to a horse he was grooming while discreetly tilting his head to the left, giving away Sy’s location. 

She was expecting him to look as he always had when working in the heat; sweaty, a little disheveled, and wearing his beat up baseball cap. What met her eyes however was something closer to the cover of a romance novel, and Sasha was momentarily stunned into stillness. 

Wearing a navy and black plaid button-down, tight blue jeans with a black belt, and a far less trodden pair of black, round-toed boots, it was the black Stetson on Sy’s head that made her stomach explode into a million butterflies. Biting her lip, Sasha felt a stirring she couldn’t remember ever feeling for her ex, the realization a startling one that nearly made her drop the thermos. 

It took a deep breath to refocus her mind, but once she had, Sasha tiptoed as close to Sy as she dared. With a quick look to Wyatt, who gave her wholehearted approval, Sasha leaned up as far as she could, standing on her tiptoes to try and reach his ear. 

“Morning, handsome,” she whispered, echoing his morning note. 

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sy jumped a mile, turning and banging his elbow into the stall as he tried to figure out what was going on. Seeing Sasha, his fear instantly turned to elation, and he placed a hand over his heart as he took her in. Even more radiant than she had been the previous morning, Sy could tell she felt a million times better, not just physically, but emotionally. The gleam in her eye said it all, and before he could even register it, Sy was grinning like a fool. 

“Morning, mama,” he said with fondness, his voice quiet and sweet as he tipped his hat back enough to kiss her cheek. 

Though Sasha was momentarily confused at the formality of the kiss, it only took one look at Wyatt’s raised eyebrows for her to realize why Sy was being a little coy with the PDA. Everything was still new. Blushing a little, she pulled her surprise from behind her back, smiling hopefully up at Syverson.

“I thought I’d make your morning a little easier,” Sasha said, her smile growing as Sy slipped a hand around her waist, guiding her down the aisle towards his office.

Sy’s face showed genuine appreciation as he took a seat in his high back leather chair, pulling Sasha down into his lap so she wouldn’t have to sit on the perpetually hay dust-covered chair. 

“You didn’t need to do all this, darlin’. You made coffee and everything. Thank you.” Sy met her eyes, his own gaze making it abundantly clear that he wasn’t used to being treated. Turning her face with his hand, he kissed her deeply now that they were in private, Sy sighing happily when he finally pulled away. 

“Been thinkin’ about kissin’ you all morning,” he confessed, Sasha unable to keep the small squeak of happiness from escaping, her head falling to Sy’s broad shoulder as he reached around her to unwrap the kitchen towel. 

With the tinfoil off in a hurry, Syverson’s face turned into one of delight as he immediately recognized what she’d made. 

“Did you use the chorizo?” He asked, bouncing a little in his seat when Sasha nodded. Laughing softly, Sasha held off on taking her first bite in lieu of watching Sy. While his food always tasted amazing, he usually didn’t have much of a reaction to his own cooking. Now, with someone else’s handiwork in front of him, it was a totally different story. 

Sy’s eyes rolled back into his head the moment the first bite touched his tongue, a loud, appreciative moan coming next as he began to chew, followed by more bouncing and a bob of his head that was unmistakably made in time with the music. 

“Damn, woman! You could make some serious coin off these! It’s so good! I think you’ve ruined me. Never, ever tell her I said this, but... Even my mom’s isn’t this tasty! Holy shit!” 

Blushing profusely, Sasha hid her face deeper into the crook of Sy’s neck, her smile wide as she felt his free hand come up to cup the back of her head. Warm and safe, she almost forgot about her own meal until the baby moved and her stomach growled simultaneously, both Sasha and Sy laughing and the loud interference. 

“Might wanna eat quick, mama. The lil’ one’s gettin’ restless,” Sy grinned, his hand slipping under her overalls to rub her belly gently over her shirt. The touch made her heart skip a beat, Sasha still amazed that Sy seemed to have no qualms over the fact that she was pregnant, even now that they’d declared their interest in one another as more than just friends. 

Unwrapping her burrito, she took a hearty bite, Sasha glad that her appetite was coming back a little stronger now that she was well away from her previous situation. Still watching Sy, she felt her blush returning as his excitement over the food didn’t waver a bit. It was so opposite of what she was used to, Sasha didn’t quite know what to do with herself. 

“Seriously, Sash, I could have these as my last meal and I’d die a happy man.” Giving her a squeeze, he looked up at her and something in his eyes changed. 

“Darlin’, you’ve got a little somethin’...” Sy’s voice softened as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Sasha’s lips and knocking her heart into overdrive immediately, with how charming he was. 

“Stop,” she whined playfully once they parted, her broad smile making it clear she didn’t actually want him to do anything of the sort. “You’re too cute for your own good, mister,” Sasha added, pressing the button of his nose, her own scrunched up playfully. 

“Nuh uh. That’s all you, mama. I’m just the big ‘ol rust bucket that works with horses,” he joked, Sy about to lean in to kiss her again when Wyatt’s soft throat-clearing interrupted them. 

“We got about five minutes. He’s all ready to go, trottin’ around the pasture so he’s seen as they drive up. You need my help with anythin’ else or am I good to get back to the trees?” Wyatt asked, trying his hardest not to let his face show how surprised and happy he was for his best friend. 

It had been eons since Sy had shown any interest in a woman, and despite only having met her briefly, Wyatt could already see how much of a difference Sasha was making in his former C.O., a difference for the better as far as Wyatt was concerned. 

“Nope, I’m all good to go. D’you mind if I share this with Wyatt, darlin’? He hasn't’ eaten yet either and he’s about to go out and break his back.” Looking down at Sy as he asked for permission, Sasha only let the shock of his request flash briefly across her face before nodding quickly. Men never asked her for permission; they usually just took and took and took. Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, Sasha found herself slowly getting off Sy’s lap, mouth parted slightly. 

Was it too good to be true? Would he end up being like every other man she’d ever been with? Was this all a dream that would leave her sobbing when she woke?

Managing to keep the smile on her face, she bent down and gave Sy a sweet kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger just a little longer than was customary. 

“I think I’m gonna head back up to the house.” Sasha murmured, stepping backwards while trying to keep her composure. Sy frowned slightly, confusion marring his features. 

“You alright, darlin’?” Nodding quickly, Sasha waved the two men goodbye before turning on her heel and heading back towards the house as fast as she could manage. 

Hearing the buyer’s truck pulling up as she crested the hill, it was all Sasha could do to keep from running, afraid seeing her might deter Sy’s prospective customer. Inside, the cool air hit her and without anyone watching her, Sasha let her tears spill, elated that she’d found such a wonderful man, but terrified that it was all going to go south like it did any time she had even a modicum of happiness to herself. Overwhelmed with emotion and forgetting all about the hormones coursing through her, Sasha kicked off her shoes before beelining the couch, curling up with Hudson and letting the tears fall silently until sleep overtook her. 

Sasha wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt soft lips on her face. Moaning quietly, she braced for the kisses to turn to punches. With her eyes squeezed shut tightly, she was certain she’d feel the familiar wakeup call tear her out of her dream, which would put her right back to everything she’d run away from. 

“Travis, I’m up, I promise,” she mumbled, whimpering even as she put her hands up to block whatever violence was coming her way. 

When the gentle kisses stopped and all she felt was the circulating air of the AC, Sasha finally opened her eyes, confused; the sight before her put a lump in her throat instantly. Sy sat on the coffee table, back hunched over, his eyes gazing into a spot on the rug. Lips pressed in a tight line, two tear drops clung to his lower lashes, streaming down his face only when he finally looked up, their path cutting through the fine layer of dust on his face before he wiped them away slowly. 

“Ah, sweetheart. Wish I could take all your fear, all your pain away,” he whispered, sniffling and wiping a little harder at his eyes when the tears wouldn’t stop. 

Sitting up, Sasha found herself at a loss for what to say, her own eyes already red-rimmed from having cried herself to sleep. Looking at Syverson, she couldn’t help but feel the same guilt she’d felt during her first day with him. Only now, she could add making him cry to the list of things she felt responsible for. 

“I feel like I’m a burden on you already, nevermind you wanting to take on my pain,” she admitted, her voice small and pinched, Sasha looking anywhere but at Sy. 

Opening his arms, it only took a moment before Sy had Sasha in his embrace, holding her as close as he could and letting her fresh tears fall into the crook of his neck. Rocking her back and forth as he stroked her hair caringly, Sy could only think of one response to her words. 

“No, not a burden. A joy.”

[whydidiwritethis]

Amongus Imposter x Tramp Stamps Reader /j

     Hi, I’m the newest member of The Tramp Stamps, Y/N. I have long ebony black hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. (/ref) I’m a total girlboss and I don’t take any shit from any boy. 

     I like to tie my long dark brown hair into a messy bun before I go to school. I’m totally cool and not like other girls so the other girls HATE me. I like blue and sport even though I do no sport in this but they like pink and charge phone. They wear skirts and I girlboss.

     “Hi Y/N!” My childhood friend, Amongus Imposter said as I got into class late. I’m so quirky I’m late daily LOL. “Go sit down LOSER!” A random girl with no personality besides bully and pink shouted. I flipped her off as I sat down by the window and OMG the usually empty seat next to mine was taken by super famous Harry Styles!!! Major hottie!!! 

“Oh, hi!” I looked at him with my icy blue orbs. “Shut up bitch, mate.” He said to me. I know I said I’m such a girlboss, but the bad boy that shows me no respect is SOOOOOOOO dreamy! “Oh okay Harry Styles of One Direction, often shortened to 1D, are an English-Irish pop boy band formed in London, England in 2010!” I responded and sat down, pushing my long blonde hair behind my ear with a smile. “You know me?? You’re so cool and special and pretty and quirky, Y/N!” Harry kissed me.

     Amongus Imposter barked from across the room. He’s an alpha and a werewolf btw. Harry Styles growled back to express dominance. Amongus Imposter hissed and carried me away from the classroom. 

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Hi my name is Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor and I have long egg-white hair (that’s how I got my name) with blonde streaks and pink tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Lucy Punch (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to JD Salinger but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a VFD member but my ankles are not tattooed. I have pale white skin. I’m also an arsonist, and I go to an arsonist cult called the Firestarters in the City where I’m one of the most important financial advisers (I’m sixth). I’m very In (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly pinstripes. I love Café Salmonella and I buy all my food from there. For example today I was wearing a white corset with black knife heels. I was wearing pink lipstick, white foundation, red eyeliner and pink eye shadow. I was walking outside 667 Dark Avenue. It was hot and dry so there was stuff on fire, which I was very happy about. A lot of volunteers stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

"OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!" she said excitedly.

"Yeah? So?" I said, blushing.

"Do you like Draco?" she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

"No I so fucking don't!" I shouted.

"Yeah right!" she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." I replied flirtily.

"Guess what." he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade." he told me.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God!" I screamed. I love GC. They are my favorite band, besides MCR.

"Well…. do you want to go with me?" he asked.

I gasped.

On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn't put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Draco was waiting there in front of his flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

"Hi Draco!" I said in a depressed voice.

"Hi Ebony." he said back. We walked into his flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Good Charlotte.

"You come in cold, you're covered in blood

They're all so happy you've arrived

The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom

She sets you free into this life." sang Joel (I don't own da lyrics 2 dat song).

"Joel is so fucking hot." I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

"Hey, it's ok I don't like him better than YOU!" I said.

"Really?" asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

"Really." I said. "Besides I don't even know Joel and he's going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch." I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Draco. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn't go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into… the Forbidden Forest!

"DRACO!" I shouted. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

Draco didn't answer but he stopped the flying car and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.

"What the fucking hell?" I asked angrily.

"Ebony?" he asked.

"What?" I snapped.

Draco leaned in extra-close and I looked into his gothic red eyes (he was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing sorrow and evilness and then suddenly I didn't feel mad anymore.

And then… suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! " I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then….

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!"

It was….Dumbledore!

Dumbledore made and Draco and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.

"You ludacris fools!" he shouted.

I started to cry tears of blood down my pallid face. Draco comforted me. When we went back to the castle Dumbledore took us to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall who were both looking very angry.

"They were having sexual intercourse in the Forbidden Forest!" he yelled in a furious voice.

"Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"How dare you?" demanded Professor Snape.

And then Draco shrieked. "BECAUSE I LOVE HER!"

Everyone was quiet. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall still looked mad but Professor Snape said. "Fine. Very well. You may go up to your rooms."

Draco and I went upstairs while the teachers glared at us.

"Are you okay, Ebony?" Draco asked me gently.

"Yeah I guess." I lied. I went to the girl's dorm and brushed my teeth and my hair and changed into a low-cut black floor-length dress with red lace all around it and black high heels. When I came out….

Draco was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to sing 'I just wanna live' by Good Charlotte. I was so flattered, even though he wasn't supposed to be there. We hugged and kissed. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back into his room.

[queenbirbs]

on vengeful seas | Edward Mortemer x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x Elena McTavish

Summary: Another way the night on the Admiral’s ship could have gone. 

Word count: 7.1k+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence, violence against women, mentions of blood, mild (?) torture, sexual harassment, suggestive themes

Note: PB writes the admiral as “the Admiral” when referencing him, which is why I’ve chosen to keep up with that style here. 

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Elena wonders how she’s going to explain all of this to Edward. 

She’s sure this wasn’t what he meant by ‘being careful,’ if the glower on the Admiral’s face is anything to go off. It’s hard to keep a straight face, though, what with the wine still dripping from his stupid fucking hat. If he’s such a stickler for etiquette as Oliver claims, why didn’t he take it off when dining with a lady? How disappointed Emily Post would be with him. 

“A display like that, Miss McTavish, warrants a night in the brig.” Picking up a handkerchief, he wipes at his face. A smirk appears when he lowers the cloth. “But we can’t have you and your captain consorting more than you already have. Don’t think we missed that poignant scene between the two of you earlier.”

Her breath feels trapped in her chest. Had he heard their plans? “Take her to the deck.”

Two officers lead her up and out onto the ship. This early in the evening, a few soldiers are still about, adjusting the rigging and sharing a drink. Edward is no longer there, having been returned to the brig while she was mapping out the compass’s location. She can only hope that the Admiral kept his word about having the surgeon look after him. 

“Oi!” one of the officer’s shouts from near the helm. “That’s my wife’s dress!” 

Elena bristles at the shout and searches the deck for Oliver -- who hovers near the group of soldiers, a grimace on his face. 

Liar, she mouths at him, and watches the grimace fold into a sheepish frown. 

“Why’s this pirate scum wearin’ it?”  

“Miss McTavish,” the Admiral croons from behind her, “please return Office Robinson’s present for his lovely wife.” 

“I’ll need my clothes, then,” she tells him. 

“Of course! Lieutenant, fetch her things.”

“Aye, Admiral.” 

Oliver disappears below deck, leaving Elena without even a semi-friendly face. The merriment turns to interest as the men all watch the Admiral circle her like a vulture. He drags his gaze up her form, slow and calculated. Klaxon bells sound in her head. 

“The dress does look lovely on you. I can see how Edward fell for you. It’s a shame, really, your beauty being wasted on a lowlife such as him.” 

He reaches out and runs a hand through her hair, grinning when she slaps him away. 

“You have no right to touch me.”

“You’re a pirate, girl -- you have no rights!” he declares with a boisterous laugh. 

The soldiers and officers join in, shouting lewd comments at her. Footsteps on the stairs signal Oliver’s return, her clothes draped over his arm. He glances around in confusion at the leering grins as he approaches. 

“You can change in the first--”

“She’ll change here,” the Admiral declares. “Robinson can’t afford her ruining the dress any further, can he?”

Elena blanches at the order. So does Oliver, whose eyes grow wide under the choppy strands of his blonde hair. 

“But, sir--”

“Fuck you,” she spits at the Admiral. “I’m not live entertainment for you and your--”

“Do I need to bring poor Edward up from the brig and flog him for your disobedience?”

“You promised to leave him--”

“Ah, but not until I had retrieved the compass. Until then, his health and well-being rely on you.”

Her gaze darts from his smarmy grin to the circle of approaching officers to Oliver’s pained expression. The realization, when it comes, is cold. The only person who would stand up for her is locked down below. There is no way out. 

Steadying her trembling jaw, she lifts her chin and sucks in a breath. 

“Fine.” 

Stepping forward, she feigns to take the clothes from Oliver’s arm and instead pulls his sword from its holster. With a flick of the wrist, she runs the blade up along the dress’s bodice. The silk parts like butter; the golden embroidery tears and the seams rend apart. Tossing the sword at Oliver’s feet, she steps out of the puddle of fabric and kicks it towards the Admiral. “Here’s your dress back, you fucking perverts.”

The men bellow and cheer, whistling at the sight of her near state of undress. She’s thankful she had the foresight to keep her bra and pants on under the dress, if in need of a quick getaway. Swimming in that tent would’ve been a death sentence.  

Elena snatches her shirt and waistcoat from Oliver, but the sharp edge of a blade at her neck makes her freeze in place. 

“You are going to learn rather quickly, Miss McTavish, that your actions have consequences.” The Admiral’s other hand clenches tight around her shoulder. “Tie her to the mast!”

“Wait -- Admiral, please--” Oliver tries to protest as two officers yank her arms behind her back and drag her towards the main mast.

“This is my ship, Lieutenant, and I will run it how I see fit!” the Admiral barks. “See that you return to your own.” 

Elena locks desperate eyes with Oliver, silently begging him to intervene. Whatever small sliver of trust she held with him, though, dissipates when she watches him turn his back and walk away. Despite her struggling attempts, the two officers keep their hold on her as they slam her back against the mast. Forcing her to her knees, they secure her arms back around the pole and tie her wrists together with a length of rope. She wrestles forward, testing her bonds, but they hold tight. 

“You should appreciate that I’m not flogging you. Instead, I think a night out on deck will suffice.” 

Picking up her clothes, the Admiral stops a few feet in front of her and drops them onto the deck. She has an idea, now, of who put the bucket outside of Edward’s cell. “Do try to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Rot in hell,” she seethes, but he’s already moving away towards Officer Robinson, who’s come down to watch the spectacle. 

“Do you smell a storm approaching, Robinson?”

“Aye, sir, I do.”

“A shame for those caught out in the elements, then.”

Though she expects them to stick around and rough her up a bit more, they thankfully walk away and disappear below deck. The soldiers return to their posts, only interacting with her when they pass by with taunts and rude gestures. Despite the three-hundred some-odd years between now and her time, it’s all comments she’s heard since the age of ten. Nothing new under the sun, and all that. 

She keeps quiet, though, even as rage boils inside of her. Years of experience tell her that it’s her best shot to get them to leave her alone. The rain does a lot of the work for her. 

It starts a half-hour later, driving away some of the soldiers back down to their bunks. Elena shifts to sit on her ass with her head bent, trying to shield herself with the sails and rigging. 

Usually a brief respite from the humid climate, the rain is cold on the bare skin of her shoulders and torso. With the strong winds this far out at sea, the rain is sharp, pricking her like needles. Her body shivers in protest. She tries to use her long hair as a makeshift shawl, but the blonde strands are soon soaked through, acting as nothing more than a damp weight on her chilled skin.  

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watches the soldiers. Watches them point and laugh at her for the first hour, until they assume her asleep. Watches them move about the ship, carrying down what supplies they can with the slippery deck.

They chatter about wiping the sea clean of a few more pirates, of glory to His Majesty, of breaking out the good rum when they watch Captain Mortemer get what’s coming to him. They argue over a barrel of gunpowder, eventually deciding not to bother moving it downstairs, and tuck it away near the starboard side.

The storm continues up until dawn. The sky turns from that deepest blue to a hazy gray, muddled here and there with streaks of pink as the rain finally moves on to the north. Elena knows because she stays awake the entire night, fighting the pull of unconsciousness, unable to sleep with the enemy so close. Her body had stopped shivering hours ago, too tired to try and warm itself up. If she hadn’t kept track of the men all night, she would’ve thought they’d chopped off her hands at some point -- she can no longer feel them, and isn’t even sure that her fingers are moving when she tries flexing them.

Sometime after the sun has breached the horizon, there is the sound of boots on the deck nearby. 

“Up and at ‘em, hedge whore.” 

A sharp kick to her ribs ruins her attempt to play possum. Her moan of pain is lost under her coughing fit, which jostles her sore body. She curls forward, trying to avoid another kick. Officer Robinson smirks down at her from where he looms above her, a mug in his hand. “Admiral says to give you your breakfast.”

Panic seizes her. Before she can move to protect herself, he tips the mug over. 

Hot coffee splashes down onto her. A scream tears free as fire scorches down her back, raking its claws along her skin. She can feel her vocal chords burning and her mouth moving, but she can’t hear herself; there is only the rush of blood in her ears, blocking out all other sounds. Officer Robinson’s mouth parts to laugh at her. Nearby soldiers join in.

Minutes pass, though they feel like hours, and the searing pain becomes a throbbing ache. The coffee feels like a brand, burnt into her skin. Despite cursing it all night, she pleads for the rain to come back. The cold, morning winds are her only source of relief.

“Where is she? What have you bastards done with her!?” Edward’s voice booms across the deck.

Elena’s head snaps up. A group of officers surround him, making it difficult for her to get his attention from her bound position. She doesn’t have to try very hard, though -- because the men begin to move out of the way, letting him get a good look at her. His scowl disappears in an instant; his jaw drops, abject horror paling his face. 

“Elena!” he shouts, struggling to free himself. “You vile, savage -- if you’ve hurt her, I swear--”

“You’ll do what? Let us put another hole in yer side?” one of the soldiers taunts. The rest of them erupt into laughter. 

“She gave us a good show, your lass!” a man shouts from the helm. 

“We didn’t do nuthin’, boy,” the officer holding him scoffs. “Go on, see for yerself.” 

They shove him forward. Edward crosses the deck in two strides; dropping to his knees in front of her, he cups her cheek and brushes the mangled curtain of her hair over her shoulder. His gaze sweeps over her, but it’s nothing like before, down in the brig. The heat in his eyes is stoked only by fury. 

“Your back,” he hisses. “What did they do to--”

“It’s not important right now. Edward, listen to me--”

“They harmed you. There is nothing more important.” 

“Officers,” comes Oliver’s voice from behind them, “what is the meaning of this?”

The comradery ceases. The crew stands at attention, trying to hide their choked laughter behind coughs. 

“Cut her loose,” Edward demands.  

Footsteps sound across the planks, coming closer and closer, before a hand grabs both of hers and tugs. Elena jerks away in surprise and the rope digs deeper into her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver murmurs from behind her. “To cut this, I have to…” he trails off, the words lost under the sound of sawing. 

The rope gives way and falls to the deck. Vicious, stabbing pain shoots up her arms and along her back as her abused muscles move and stretch for the first time in hours. Tears spill from her eyes, but before she can figure out how to hide them, Edward’s thumb brushes them away. 

“Here.” He picks up her blouse and helps her slip into it, mindful of the burns on her back and the lacerations around her wrists. 

“I think I’ll… pass on the corset,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat.

Oliver crosses to the group of soldiers to berate them on her condition. Elena waits until he’s out of earshot to speak again. “Edward, listen to me. There is no prisoner transfer. The Admiral plans on sinking the Revenge. They’re sailing right into a trap. You have to warn the crew.”

Edward’s hands, which had been running gently up and down her arms to warm her back up, freeze. 

“Damnation,” he spits, shaking his head. “Aye, I will. But you, you’re in no shape to fight your way--”

“I didn’t say we.” Her downcast eyes flicker up, briefly, to catch his before returning to her injured wrists. “I said you.”

“I will not leave you behind.”

“We have no other choice. I’ll distract them--”

His hand cups her jaw and tilts her head up to meet his determined gaze. “Banish the thought, Miss McTavish. I won’t hear--”

She reaches up and yanks his hand from her face, squeezing his fingers to silence him. 

“Stop interrupting and listen to me. There’s gunpowder over there, near the starboard beam. They made a big fuss about keeping it out of the rain. It’s the small barrell, with--”

“Aye, I know what a powder keg looks like.”

“And I’ve watched too many BBC documentaries to know that they put it too close to the ship’s center. If it goes off, the explosion just might reach the lower levels.”

It’s a sign of how much time he’s spent with her that he doesn’t even question the odd reference she makes. 

“I imagine you have some idea of how I’m to set it off in the first place.”

“I’ll get Oliver close enough for you to grab his pistol.” 

Edward grimaces, but clenches his jaw and nods. There’s the captain she needs right now. Stretching up to feign another look at her back, he scans the deck and spots their escape. 

“I want you in the jolly boat when that keg goes up, hear me?” He tucks her hair back so she can see the boat hanging from the port’s davits, ready for launch. 

“Only if you’re in it with me.”

“Officers,” the Admiral bellows from behind them, “why is our prisoner not restrained?”

The men scramble forward and seize Edward, ignoring his growled threats as he fights to get loose. Coming to stand beside Elena, the Admiral casts an eye over her ragged frame. A slow smirk slithers across his face; she suppresses the shiver that wants to crawl up her spine, knowing without a doubt that his plans with her aren’t finished. He clamps a hand around her arm and hauls her to her feet, ignoring her yelp of pain as the stiff muscles are forced to work.  

“What’s the status of our merry band of misfits?”  

“They’re due east, sir!” the man from the crow’s nest calls down. “‘Bout fifteen minutes out.” 

With the morning sun blazing white-hot behind it, the Revenge is a black dot on the horizon. 

“Good!” The Admiral turns his wicked grin to Edward. “That gives me just enough time to let you in on my little secret. You see, I’ve no intention of handing you back. You’re going to watch as I turn your ship into nothing more than splinters. After that, I’ll have the distinct pleasure of cutting off your head and sticking it on the bowsprit, as a warning to your kind.”

“Get on with it, then,” Edward snaps. “Tell your officers to stand down and let us duel, man-to-man.” 

“Oh, we’ll get there, have no fear. But I think you’ll be begging me to end your sorry excuse of a life. Because before I do that, I’ll see to it that Miss McTavish here gets to experience the true pirate treatment.” He runs a hand over her hair as if petting an animal, and chuckles when she squirms away from his touch. “She’ll be bound and gagged, her legs wrapped with chain shot. Then she’ll be tossed overboard to join the rest of your crew at the bottom of the sea.” 

“Your fight is with me, Cochrane, not with her.” Edward’s glare burns hot against the rising sun. “Leave her be.”

“And what say you, Miss McTavish?” the Admiral hums, a sick delight brightening his face as hers flushes red with rage.  

“I’d like to see you try,” she snarls. 

Oliver, having had enough of waiting in the wings, finally steps forward. “Admiral, sir, the Revenge -- she’s got a child aboard.”

“A pirate’s a pirate, no matter the age!” shouts one of the officers. 

“If we don’t exterminate them now, we’ll just have to do it once they grow up, Lieutenant.”

“You fucking bastard--” Elena keens at the agonizing sensation of the Admiral’s fingers digging into her back. 

“I forgot to ask.” He dips his head to drag his lips against her ear. “Did you enjoy breakfast, Miss McTavish?” 

“Go fuck yourself.” She curls forward and then throws her head back. Victory sweeps through her at the tell-tale crunch of cartilage, urging her on.  

“Insolent--”

She turns and spits in his face, now bloodied from his broken nose. He sweeps a hand out and captures her by the throat. Slamming her back against the mast, he growls out a curse and tightens his grip. Elena claws at his face, managing to draw in enough air to scream.

“Oliver!” she cries out, putting as much emotion as she can behind it. 

There’s a flash of blue and blonde and then suddenly, the Admiral is ripped away and thrown to the deck.   

“Elena, are you--” 

She slams a fist across Oliver’s jaw. He stumbles and she snags his pistol from his belt, tossing it to Edward. Spinning on her heel, she sprints towards the jolly boat as Edward takes aim and fires. 

The powder keg explodes, blasting a hole through the deck. Wooden shards fly across the ship and embed into the officers. A chain of explosions echoes up from below. The ship groans, listing to the starboard as water rushes into the hull.

“Abandon ship!” Oliver roars. 

Soldiers slide and tumble across the tilting deck, trying to reach the jolly boats stacked for launch. One man snags Elena’s blouse and yanks her back, his sword raised to strike her down. Using the momentum, she slams her shoulder into his chest and knocks him back into a crate. “Elena!” 

She jerks her head up to see a runaway train of supplies rushing towards her. Before she can jump out of the way, a strong arm wraps around her waist and hoists her up onto the railing. 

“Cheater,” she mutters. 

Edward lets go of the rope and shakes his head at her. She doesn’t miss the pained wince he makes as he holds his injured shoulder.     

“I told you to be in the boat,” he chides.

“I would have a smartass remark if I weren’t so terrified of going down with the ship.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He helps her over the railing net and into the jolly boat before swinging himself over. The ship quakes as water floods the lower levels; the hull gives way to the sea with a loud crack. Soldiers race to the bow to leap off, avoiding the downward surge of water near the ship’s center. Elena grapples with the davit to launch the boat down while Edward fends off the desperate men looking for a safer way off.  

“Anytime now, Miss McTavish!” he shouts, hauling a particularly determined man over the netting just to toss him down into the water. 

“I’m trying! I just can’t get the damn thing to--”

The Admiral surges over the netting and swings his sword through one of the davit’s ropes. The boat drops, suspended on one end by a single rope. Elena grabs hold of a thwart and hangs there, searching below for Edward. 

His left hand clenches tight along the bow. The breath of relief catches in her chest when he looks up to meet her gaze, desperation warring with the agony of his injured shoulder. Elena pries one hand loose and offers it to him. Her fingertips barely brush the tops of his knuckles. 

“Give me your other hand!” she cries. 

“Elena--” he bares his teeth, “I cannot--”

His fingers slip from their hold and he falls. The sea closes over him like a watery shroud. 

Elena screams his name, frantically scanning the surface for him, when a fist wraps around her hair. The Admiral drags her back onto the ship, trapping her from escape with a boot on her chest. 

“Alack, Miss McTavish, you should’ve let go when you had the chance!” the Admiral shouts above the din of his men’s cries. Blood covers his chin and neck from his ruined nose, coating his teeth where he grins. The ship lurches again and water roars as it gushes up onto the deck. “My sword will not be so kind to--”

Elena cocks her arm back and slams a fist into his crotch. Blood sprays over her in a mist as he coughs, choking on his own spittle. His hands go to cup his manhood; she grabs his sword as it falls.  

“That’s for Edward.” 

Rolling out from under his weakened hold, she springs up and steadies herself by wrapping one hand around the netting. The other adjusts her hold on the sword’s grip. 

She lunges. 

The blade drives into his shoulder, spearing through flesh and sinew. The Admiral howls, collapsing onto the deck. With a jerk of her arm, she twists the blade for good measure. “And that’s for all the innocent people you had murdered. Hell is too good a place for you, but enjoy it all the same.” 

With a sharp tug, the sword slides free from him. Uselessly grabbing at the wound, he manages to clench his jaw and open his mouth to speak. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a last word, Elena brings her knee up and knocks him backward across the deck. The blood and brine slicken the planks, making it impossible for him to stop his descent as the rushing water drags him under. 

Tucking the bloodied sword away, Elena scrambles over the railing and dives off the ship. The water is cold, though not as cold as the last time she leapt into it of her own volition. Kicking her legs, she swims up towards the sunlight and breaks the surface. 

“Edward!” she screams, trying to be heard above the men in the water. 

Swimming away from the sinking vessel, she heads towards the sun. If she can make it past the flurry of men all headed west, towards Oliver’s ship, she might be able to find him. Surely he didn’t pick a fight with anyone in the water, right? She rolled her eyes as she dipped underneath a wave to avoid another cluster of officers. Of course he would. 

But she had faith he would win, at the very least. 

“Edward!” she tries again when she breaks the surface. 

The Admiral’s ship groans as it finally relents to the sea; the masts snap apart like twigs as they hit the water. 

“Miss -- Miss McTavish!” Edward’s voice echoes from somewhere beyond her sight.

Elena paddles in a circle and keeps her head above the waves, scanning for that flash of red shirt amongst the sea of blue. Then: a lone arm, waving a sword back and forth as if it were a flag. She surges forward, riding the current as it pulls her farther out to sea and closer to her captain. 

He appears just over the next wave, clinging to a chunk of wood and heaving a sigh of relief. 

“You have no idea how pleased I am to see you safe, Miss McTavish.”

“Really?” she sputters. “We just blew up a navy ship and nearly drowned and you’re keeping up your pretenses?” 

“You’ve been living amongst pirates for some weeks now, haven’t you learned? There’s always time for etiquette.”

Matching grins spread across their faces. They both burst into laughter at the horrible joke, adrenaline singing in their veins. Edward motions her to come closer and helps her up onto the wood. When he starts to slide off, she grabs his coat sleeve. 

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve seen this movie. Get up here with me, there’s plenty of room.”

“I do not think--”

“Get your ass back up here, Captain.”

Edward heaves out a sigh, but relents to her demands and hauls himself back onto their makeshift flotation device. “There we go,” she says. “See, now I don’t have to watch you freeze to death, or throw a ten-thousand dollar necklace into the ocean.”

“I’m going to blame our current predicament on the nonsense yer spouting.”

Elena shifts to get more comfortable and shrugs. “That’s fine.”

They both watch the Admiral’s ship disappear beneath the waves, the floating debris the only proof it was ever there at all. In the distance, men are being brought aboard Oliver’s ship. “Should we worry about them?”

“Nay, I think not.” Edward’s mouth dips down to one side. “At least, not right now. They won’t want to risk us pulling the same stunt on their ship, I imagine.”

“Good. But what about Henry?”

“We’ll get him back, don’t badge. The Admiral may not have been the reasoning sort, but the lieutenant seems to be. Especially when it comes to you.” 

Within twenty minutes, the ship weighs anchor and releases the sails. Soon enough, the Revenge -- having been circling about on the horizon -- starts towards them.

“I owe you an apology.”

Elena tears her gaze from the Revenge to him. He won’t look at her, though. Instead, he feigns interest in watching Oliver’s ship disappear to the north. 

“What for?” she asks.

“For promising you safety from the Admiral and letting him put his hands on you anyway.”

“You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. I could’ve played along and not stirred the pot, but I didn’t.”

“That is no reason for him to--”

“I know it’s not.” 

She reaches across to put her hand on top of his. Elena’s breath empties out of her with a sigh when he turns his palm up and laces his fingers through hers and squeezes tight. “Well, you can be rest assured that he won’t be putting his hands on me, or you, or anybody else ever again.”

A noise of surprise sounds from his throat. 

“He’s dead?”

“I punched him in the dick and stole his sword and stabbed him. So, yeah, I guess. And if I didn’t, then the blood loss or water in his lungs would’ve finished the job.”

“And you are…”

“Freaking out a little about it, yeah,” she admits, angry at the way her hands have started to shake. “I put on a brave face and sent him off with a real Indiana Jones-worthy one-liner and… and I know you don’t know what that is but--”

“Elena--”

Shaking her head at him, she continues: “--but, and I mean, I know how horrible of a person he was, and all the people he had killed, and the countless others like you he took advantage of, but I still…”

“...killed a man,” he finishes for her.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t lie to you. It is never easy. But if some part of you did not feel this way, then that would be far more worrisome.”

Tears fall from her eyes, but he’s too far to wipe them away this time. He settles for turning her hand over and pressing kisses to her palm, mindful of the rope burn around her wrists.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s rather odd to thank you for… something like that. But I am grateful to you, as well, for saving me. I owe you my life.”

“Yeah,” she says, lifting her head up to grin at him, “you kinda do.”

Edward chuckles and enjoys seeing her nose wrinkle with her own laughter. “You can pay me back by giving me a proper kiss.”

“Here?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Unless there’s another floating hunk of wood you think would be a better--”

Pulling himself up, he crosses the distance between them and pays his debt. Her lips are dry and rough, evidence of their captivity, and tasting of saltwater and some delicious flavor that could only be her. When she parts for air, he takes his own and then returns for another kiss. She whines, sweet and high, when he parts her lips for a better taste. Her fingers curl around the wet strands of his dark hair and tug, urging him on and on. 

“You two need anotha minute or are you ready to come aboard?” Charlie’s voice echoes down to them. 

They ease apart and share a heated glance before slipping off their raft. The crew leans down over the railing, hollering their relief at finding them alive and in one piece. Jonas releases the rope ladder and Edward grabs the first rung, motioning for Elena to go first. Ginny hangs off Ax’s arm, jumping up and down as she waves to them 

“We saw the ship explode!” she calls down.

“Aye, that was Miss McTavish’s idea.” 

“Brilliant!” Ginny declares with a beaming smile.

“Isn’t she, though?” 

“Oi, where’s Henry? He didn’t…” Maggie trails off, frowning out towards the open water where the Admiral’s ship went down.

Jonas and Charlie help Elena over and onto the deck, both of them catching her stifled cry when her back brushes against the railing.

“No, no, he’s on the lieutenant’s ship,” Edward explains as he throws a leg over onto his ship. “We’ll fetch him back, have no fear.”

“He’ll be spittin’ mad that he missed all the action,” Jonas declares.

“He’ll be dancin’ the hempen jig once we rescue him and I punish him for such a stunt.”

“We were watchin’ you through the spyglass!” Ginny exclaims, still bouncing from foot to foot with joy. Ada rushes over with blankets and when Jonas moves to help distribute the supplies among the two, Ginny darts in and throws her arms around Elena’s waist. “I’m so glad you guys are okay!” 

Biting down on her cheek to distract herself from the pain, Elena’s lungs stutter against the familiar burning sensation along her back. With the rush of adrenaline long gone, Ginny’s thin arms feel like hot, metal bands. 

“Step back, Ginny,” Edward orders, then, in a softer tone, adds, “Please. Miss McTavish has some… injuries.”

She leaps back, her brown eyes filling with tears. Elena’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the guilty expression on her face. 

“I’m sorry -- I didn’t -- I’m sorry, Elena, I--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she assures, crouching down to meet Ginny at her level. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Besides, a hug from you is the world’s best medicine.”

Ginny wipes away the unshed tears in her eyes. 

“Yer just sayin’ that.”

“Only because it’s true,” she counters. “Now, can I give you a hug back?”

She nods; Elena gathers her into her arms and squeezes her tight, ignoring the prickle of her injured skin. There’s movement behind her: Charlie, gently plucking the collar of her shirt back to have a look. 

“Oh, love,” Charlie breathes out, “what’d they--”

“I have some salve from when we went to the apothecary,” Elena not-so-subtly interrupts. “Could you get it for me, please? And Edward, he needs--”

“The ship’s surgeon looked after me,” he says. 

“Yeah, like half a day ago,” she scoffs.

Charlie and Ada disappear down below before returning with her salve and the meager medical supplies. What Elena wouldn’t give for clean gauze and basic antibiotic ointment. And tampons, which she’d lamented to Charlie on more than one occasion. 

“C’mon,” Elena tucks her arm through his, “I’ll play Hawkeye.”

Gathering her against his side, he heads for the privacy of his cabin to tend to their wounds.

“Are these references of yours ever going to pertain to the current day?” he wonders aloud.

“Don’t hold your breath, Major Houlihan.”

Inside the cabin, he guides her to his bed and sits her down. 

“Ah, ah -- gentlemen first this time.”

“As I stated before, I was tended to--”

“Stop arguing and start stripping,” she orders, wishing that crossing her arms didn’t pull at the taut skin of her back. 

With a disgruntled sigh, Edward tosses off his coat and unbuttons his shirt. Despite their dip in the ocean, the bandages somehow look cleaner than before. She focuses on that, and wonders if the surgeon did more than a quick look-see. She does not focus on the fact that she’s alone with shirtless Edward in his cabin (and boy, how her late-night fantasies didn’t hold a candle to the sight of him now). 

“There’s that wrinkle again,” he murmurs, reaching between them to run a fingertip across her forehead. “Are ye thinking of home?”

“No.” 

She’s surprised by her own honesty, but finds that it’s true -- she isn’t thinking of home. In fact, she realizes with a gnawing sensation in her chest, she hasn’t thought about home all day. Every minute of her night out on the deck was spent planning revenge and worrying about Edward and worrying about the crew and listening for soldiers getting too close -- and then there was no time to think at all. “No, I was… thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Aye,” she mimics, “you.” Before she can manage to embarrass herself by showing all of her cards, Elena clears her throat. “I was thinking about what horrors I was going to find when I peeked under that bandage.”

Snorting at the dramatics, he tugs the dressing aside and makes his own noise of surprise. The stitching is neat, and the skin around it -- while ugly and bruised -- doesn’t show any sign of infection.  

“Looks like I won’t be needin’ that hook then after all.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

The grin he shoots her does something funny to her train of thought; she forgets what the next sentence out of her mouth should be. Fortunately, he steers her back on track by checking under the bandage on his side and makes a show of turning so she can see the perfect line of stitches. 

“I’m surprised the Admiral kept up his end of the bargain.”

“Ah, it was… actually the lieutenant. He came down and insisted the surgeon see me.” 

She’s not sure how to process that. For all his faults, Oliver did seem to be earnest in his attempts to help. 

The image of him walking away as the Admiral and his men restrained her, though, feels burnt into her retinas. “As such,” Edward continues, “the bandages will hold for a good while. I would like to -- err… I think it more beneficial to check on the status of your injuries… if I may, o’course.” 

Before he can stumble his way through asking for her to take her shirt off, she reaches down and tugs it over her head. Moving to stand behind her, Edward gets a full view of her injury. She winces at the pained noise he makes. 

“Any bleeding or open wounds?” she asks. 

“Nay, but -- Elena, this… it looks as if someone poured hot coals down yer back.”

“That’s… a good guess.” At his deafening silence, she relents. “It was coffee. He told me it was my breakfast.” 

“Who?” the single word sounds like it’s being squeezed from his throat. 

“Officer Robinson.” 

“I will gut him like a pig and string him off the bowsprit for harming you.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she murmurs. 

“Who says that?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

Taking the salve from her, he urges her to lie down on her stomach. Sinking onto the thin mattress, she rests her head on his pillow. The linen smells of sun and salt and sweat; she nestles closer, inhaling in the comforting scent she’s come to associate with him. 

The bed dips with his weight as he sits beside her, his thigh pressed alongside her hip. He collects the damp wave of her hair and lays it across the pillow. His fingers make gentle sweeps across her skin with the honey-and-herb smelling lotion. After his fifth apology for nudging the band of her bra, Elena reaches behind her, unhooks it, and tosses it to the floor. 

“Was this… retribution for my stealing the compass?” he asks, his touch stuttering across her lower back. 

“No.” She closes her eyes against the memory of all those men leering at her, waiting for her to give them a show. In the nightmare she’ll have tonight, she imagines they’ll appear as wolves, starving and hungry, ready to tear her limb-from-limb. “I didn’t tell him where the compass was. I mean -- I did, but I gave him a fake location. That group of islands we fought that cargo ship. I figured it would give us enough time to work out another plan, before he keelhauled us or cut off our heads.”

“I would tell ye that I would’ve never let such a thing happen, but I wasn’t able to stop him from… this.” 

Craning her neck to look at him, her throat tightens at the devastated expression he wears.

“Hey,” she says, dragging his attention away from her marred skin. “We’re not playing the blame game. This isn’t your fault, and -- although I could have played nice and things might have turned out different -- it isn’t mine, either.” 

A ragged breath escapes him; the line of his shoulders softens under her assurance. She watches him set aside the pot and lean over her. The kiss he presses to the nape of her neck is so soft, she would’ve missed it -- if not for the second one he places just to the right of the first. A hum rolls along the back of her throat; he reads her obvious encouragement and trails his mouth along the top of her shoulder. 

“Kiss me.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing, Miss McTavish.” 

Just the side of his face is visible, but it’s enough for her to see the hint of a smile. Refusing to deal with his teasing, she pushes herself up to her knees and turns to face him. His dark eyes rove over her, burning bright with the afternoon sun pouring in through the window. She reaches for him and he comes easily into her embrace. With her breasts flush against his naked chest, his heart races against her skin. 

Cradling her face between his hands, he pours every ounce of himself into the kiss. If their moment down in the brig was the dam breaking, then this is the aftermath: a strong, steady current of his mouth moving against hers. He takes only what she gives and no more, letting her explore as she likes. 

Retreating in the name of oxygen, Edward tips his forehead against hers. 

“I felt powerless when you did not return. I was sure… I thought of every horrible thing I knew him to be capable of, and they plagued me the entire night. I shouldn’t’ve put you in such a position, Elena. I promised to protect you and I failed.” His voice works around the emotions clogging his throat. “And I will be damned sure I will never do so again.”

Sitting back to catch his eye, she runs a hand through his hair and shushes him. It does little to ease him. “I would have rather bled to death in that cell than to see you tied to the mast, in your undergarments no less, in pain like this--”

“Edward.” She leans forward and presses her lips to the bandage wrapped over his heart. “What have I told you since day one?” she asks him, lightening her tone to pull him out of the hole he’s dug himself. 

He’s a smart man; he catches on. 

“A great deal about something called Amazon, which I believe is a land to the west and not--”

“Edward.”

“As well as the wonders of indoor plumbing, which you curse at every available opportunity--”

“I’m going to kick your ass out of your own bed.”

“--and for me to stop underestimating you.”

“Exactly,” she nods, smiling when he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

Gathering her close once more, he tangles a hand in her hair where she settles against his chest. He runs his blunt nails along her scalp, enjoying the little sighs she makes. 

“How could I forget when you’re reminding me every blessed moment?” 

Unable to resist, Edward drops a kiss onto the crown of her head. The cabin grows quiet, filled only with their shallow breaths and the distant murmurs of the crew. Feeling the day’s weight upon his eyelids, he shakes himself out of the comfortable stupor to find Elena nearly half-asleep. He coaxes her to lay down and helps her out of her damp trousers. Tugging the sheet up to her hips, he turns to check on his crew and see about tracking down the lieutenant’s ship when a hand reaches out for him. 

“Edward.”

“Aye?”

“What if I… screwed up?”

The term is unfamiliar, but he’s grown used to her unusual lexicon. 

“In what way?” 

She shifts on the pillow to face him, though her gaze remains somewhere on the floor. 

“By killing the Admiral. I’m -- this trip, it was supposed to be temporary. I was going to try to avoid talking about the internet or reality television or vaccines and find a way back home and now I’ve gone and...” she trails off, biting at her lip.  

Kneeling beside the bed, Edward brushes a lock of hair from her face and tips his head in thought. 

“Have you considered that this was meant to be? That you coming here to this time... it was already written in your fate.”

Elena clenches her eyes shut and groans. 

“Ugh. That makes my head hurt. I’m a time traveler and thinking about that makes my head hurt.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and returns to his feet.  

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you with food.”

“Mmm… you know exactly what to say to please a woman.”

“It is one of my hidden talents.”

“What are the others?”

“In due time, Miss McTavish.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

+

+

+

References and other what-have-yous: 

“Chivalry is dead” being a coined phrase is most attributed to Lord Byron, who in 1823 blamed it’s passing on Don Quixote. What a goodreads review that would’ve been. But in 1793, Edmund Burke, after Marie Antoinette’s beheading, remarked that the age of chivalry was dead. So, he gets whatever the equivalent of brownie points were back then.  

Hawkeye and Major Houlihan are from the TV show MASH, where they’re the chief surgeon and head nurse. An extremely topical, 1970s sitcom reference. 

Badge was slang for ‘worry’ in the 18th cent, per an Essex Dialect Dictionary published in 1920.

[caeruleis]

@thorn-kissed​ (Aimed at Djeeta)

Try + Lucio (Himbo rights)

SEND  TRY + A CHARACTER  YOU’D LIKE TO SEE ME ( ATTEMPT ) TO WRITE! // Accepting (Permission to turn into a thread/continue granted). 

                                                      ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ― ☽ ― ★ ☆ ✮ ✯

     By now, the stars had painted a vvid image across the darkened sky until their shimmering, silver lights have left behind traces of stardust upon the deck of the Grandcypher. When he looked upwards towards the blinding glow of the moon, so distant and lonely where it was nestled behind the untold brilliance of the stars, he could make out well over a dozen constellations streaked across the breathtaking beauty of the night sky. From Auriga to Canis Major and Minor to Carina and Eridanus to Orion and Gemini and so many others - he greets each one with a gentle smile and a flap of the minuscule wings that sit atop the armor he wears as he exhales their names softly into the frigid air that licks at his pale lips. His warm breath spilling past his tongue and heating up his nose and jaw where it lingers, visibly, before its stolen by the chilled wind of winter. And he watches those willowy clouds of smoke he creates with every silent mutter he makes until they have long since been devoured - vanishing behind the faint curtain of snow that continues to fall. A dusting of frost having already settled upon the polished wood of the ship despite the helmsman’s earlier efforts to keep her devoid of ice and snow. If he were to look down, he would have been able to see the outline of his own boots where he had left footprints behind in his way up from the countless chambers that are tucked away beneath the deck where much of the crew had currently settled for the night - beneath a layer of woolen blankets while clutching hot cocoa in their shivering hands.  

       But, instead, he stood upon the deck - something akin to wonder and outright fascination igniting in his vivid, blue eyes as he watched how complex and glittering snowflakes caught the shimmer of starlight for a fleeting moment before they collapsed against translucent sails or got tangled in the masts. A velvety blanket was draped neatly over his right arm - the plush edges kept well above the ground where it fluttered in the wind so it wouldn’t be dampened by the ice and a piping hot cup of cocoa was held gingerly in his left. Thumb and index wrapped about the handle as he held it close to his chest to prevent the cold from seeping into the hot liquid and ruining it before its intended receiver could taste its rich flavor upon her tongue. The tiny marshmallows he had plunked into the cup sat atop the healthy heaping of whipped cream he had added, and bobbed jollily with every careful step he took - the chocolate shavings that stood out against the stark white of the cream and marshmallows jiggled with every breath he took, and he had to be careful they wouldn’t sink to the depths of the drink before it was delivered. 

      Tearing his attention away from the skies, he held the cup to his chest and the blanket just a bit closer as he silently made his way along the deck - the soft feathers of his wings dampened by the snow that managed to fall on them, and the slick metal of his armor stained white where snowflakes had begun to gather upon his shoulders. And the corners his lips tug upwards just a bit more when he spots a spec of pink against the blue of the skies - blonde locks peeking out from beneath the fluffy brim of her cream-colored hat, and rosy cheeks just barely visible above the thick scarf wrapped about her neck. Her gloved hands were tucked away in the thick pockets of the jacket she wore, and the boots that kept her toes from freezing were lined with artificial fur that resembled that of a monster’s. And the very tip of her nose was stained a soft pink, and he could see her breath in the air as she watched the snow fall. “Good evening, Djeeta.” His pleasant voice carries out over the wind, as he makes his way over to her. 

      Smile never faltering, he sets the mug down on the railing before opening the blanket to its full length and carefully tucking it about her shoulders, gently gathering her hair within his hands and pulling golden strands out from beneath her scarf and splaying them out over the blanket. Nimble finger tips running along their length to straighten them out before pulling away once more. “Do you recall that night we spent together last year, where we spoke of your past adventures while drinking of cocoa, and gazing at the unparalleled beauty of the stars? That moment was but a fleeting one, yet it has become a beautiful memory that has remained within my heart all of this time. I find myself thinking of it often when I look upon the sky now.” He reaches out to take that mug now that the blanket has been firmly placed about her shoulders, and uses his free hand to gently remove her hands from the pockets of her coat, carefully prying her fingers open, and smoothing his thumb over the fabric that covers her palm before placing the cup of hot cocoa in her hand. “It’s still difficult for me to understand the ways of this world, but I would like to share that moment with you again, whenever possible.” He pulls his hand away to run his fingers down the feathers of his skirt before sitting down beside her - the tips of his tiny wings brushing softly against her back. 

[unlockthelore]

Hurt

When they were kids, Cloud always tried to keep a stiff lip and Tifa always came to his rescue. Now, everything seems the same and different.

Beneath leaf-filled gutters dripping water into barrels set against a damp brick wall, a white cat blinked iridescent blue eyes at a glowing orb set precariously on a pile of debris. Its tail flicked and curled as it crept around shallow puddles shimmering flourescent green across a rippled surface. Gravel presses into its paws as it crept up the pieces of broken wood, sights trained on the orb’s surface, its light particles drawing the attention of cat’s dilated pupils.

Seconds from claiming its prize, the cat lunged only to be batted away by a hand. Tumbling backward down the pile of scrapped wood into a heap in the dirt, a small cloud of dust arising. It took a moment to shake off the initial shock. Slitted pupils and narrowed eyes focused on a blond haired child kneeling on the other side of the pile, snatching the glowing orb from the cat’s view. Hissing with a puffed out tail, the cat stalked forward attempting to lay eyes on the orb but the child blocked its view every time.

“Shoo, shoo…” He urged, waving his free hand mere inches from the cat’s nose. A few mere inches which would be his downfall. Rebuffed and vindictive, the cat lunged with a loud grating hiss, claws flashing and the boy recoiled with a startled cry. Bringing his hand close to him, fresh angry reddened streaks along the back of his hand gives the cat a sense of triumph as it scampered away, racing out of the alleyway before the boy could retaliate.

The blond grumbles softly, nursing his hand close to his chest, eyebrows knitting together in pain with a flicker of annoyance at the cat’s retreating form. “Ouch…”

Dull throbbing pain etched around the thin scratches. Blood beading around the wound staining his pale skin a light scarlet with a few dunks of his hand in a small basin beside the larger water barrels. Cradling the orb in his free hand, he carefully shifted it to eye-level and turned it over in his palm admiring the glow.

There was no question of why the cat would want it but if he’d lost it, that would be worse than a couple of scratches. His body ached and muscles protested his shuffling to the wood pile, dropping down against the dilapidated fence separating from the main road. Ambient voices and footsteps of the other towns goers both filling him with dread and concern. The longer it took him to figure out how to use this, the easier it would be for someone to stumble across him. Word traveled fast in Nibelheim, and would no doubt reach the ears of one Claudia Strife.

When glaring a hole into the orb didn’t work, Cloud tried any manner of “magic words” including “please” although he took a quick glance toward either side of the backalley to ensure no one was listening. The other kids would never let him live it down if they heard him pleading to a ball of energy — or was it magic? He couldn’t quite remember what his mother had told him before and recalling her words was difficult at a distant shout of his name.

Scuffling in the dirt, a sharp pain to his back and sides nearly tore free a pained groan. His hand clamping over his mouth to stifle it as the sound of his name grew nearer. Bouncing off the brick walls, interrupting the ambience and nearly drowned out by his hammering heartbeat. He knew that lilting voice anywhere — having heard it call out to him most of his life — but he didn’t want to face her.

Not yet, and definitely not like this.

“Cloud, are you back here?”

Tucking the orb close to his stomach, he clasped his injured hand over his mouth tightly, trying to control his breathing and make himself as small as possible. In the dim, it would be harder to pick out where he was exactly. And for once he was grateful that he was so small and unassuming. If he just stayed quiet then perhaps —

“Y’know, even if you try to keep quiet and hold your breath, the cat and the materia you took from my dad gives you away.”

Wrenching his eyes open, Cloud felt dread pool in his stomach. He knew when he was caught. Carefully lifting his head, his gaze traveled from the dirt scuffed at the tip of his boots to unblemished legs. Powder blue strapless sandals, that were always getting caught on cobblestone or causing a ruckus during a free run, on a pair of shifting feet matching the cream-colored dress and the drape of dark hair barely masking concerned and annoyed ruby eyes. While he was dirtied from head to toe, Tifa was pristine and — to his relief — unharmed.

Though, she was no less upset. Thick dark brows furrowed and rose pink lips pinched together, her balled fists jammed into her hips as she shook her head at him. “Really, Cloud. How were you gonna hide a glowing green ball in a dark alley?” Her gaze dropped somewhere near the hand that fell from his mouth, resting against his chest with nowhere else to go. Pain flickered in her eyes, quickly blinked away as determination interlaced with concern in her pinched expression. “And patch yourself up at the same time…?”

Cloud swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to explain to Tifa what happened but he was caught red-handed and she wouldn’t let him off easily. Fiddling with the orb, it felt cool against his heated skin. Shame burning deep in his chest as Tifa looked him over with a dawning look of realization. Her head dropped with a heavy sigh.

“You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

Wincing and averting his gaze, Cloud grumbled bitterly. “I was… gonna figure it out.”

Tifa’s disappointment is palpable but so is her concern. Cloud, chafing beneath both, had little energy to fight back against her snatching the materia from his hands.

“Before or after you got my hat back from the monsters?”

He half-expects her to turn around and go marching back home or chastise him for being reckless. When neither comes, he glances up at her as she shuffles in the dirt. Gravel and muck staining the hem of her dress when she crouches at his side, her eyes much closer and hold tight on his arm. It would’ve been painful if not for the cooling rush of energy fluttering from the materia into his skin, numbness ebbing at pain’s biting sting, racing through his body. If Cloud didn’t know any better and Tifa’s hold on him wasn’t so tight, he would’ve thought he was floating.

“Everyone else ran for the hills, I mean…” Tifa’s voice is soft and distant, a hint of bitterness souring the air between them as they watch the scratches begin to close. “So did I…” Quickly, she added. “Just to get my gloves so I could whack them myself.” Once the scratches healed, she eased his hand to his lap and loosened her grip enough that his wrist didn’t ache. Still, she refused to let go and Cloud knew better than to pull his arm away.

“And then I see my hat on a post and you were nowhere in sight.”

The slightest tremble to her hand made Cloud ease his own back and clasp it with hers. Tifa’s pinched expression breaking, a faint glimmer to her eyes as relief floods where anxiousness had been. She squeezed his hand and a hushed silence lulled between them, Nibelheim’s ambience filling the quiet as they were lost to their thoughts.

Quietly and with no small amount of hope, Cloud asked. “Did you get it back?”

That hat was one of Tifa’s favorites. Although she had so many, that didn’t matter. It was hers and he wasn’t going to allow some monster to trample over it. Tifa startled at the question then sighed raggedly, waving the materia inches from Cloud’s nose, his eyes almost going crossed as he tried to keep his gaze on it .

“That’s not the point, silly.” Tifa huffed, pulling the materia back, giving Cloud precious time to refocus his sight. His vision dotting a bit as he tried to level his gaze with hers. Almost wishing that he hadn’t when he sees the guilt and apprehension in her eyes. “You could’ve gotten really hurt, you know? Then what would I do?”

A loaded phrase and one Cloud isn’t quick to answer. Tifa’s care for him always leaves his stomach in knots and he hates seeing her face like that. Tired, concerned, anxious, guilt-ridden, those were emotions she didn’t deserve. With how helpful and strong Tifa was, she deserved to smile everyday. And he hated that he was the one who made her look like that.

Say something. Anything that’ll make her not worry so much.

Opening his mouth and closing it as he tried find the words, Cloud grumbled. “Take your hat, go home, and ask your dad how to use a healing materia… I guess?”

Weighted silence lingers between them before Tifa groans, shoving his shoulder lightly with materia in hand. “Oh, so now you’re a funny guy?” She asks dryly, but her smile is there and that’s all that matters to him. Slowly rising from the dirt, smatters of gravel cling to her skin and Cloud is hard-pressed not to remind her of them. Staring up at her steals his breath away, the light reflecting off the gutters haloing her in a gentle golden hue.

“One of these days, Cloud Strife, you’re going to get yourself into something you can’t get out of trying to play hero.”

Cloud closed his mouth, his lips dried from hanging open for so long. With Tifa’s help in pulling him to his feet, he held onto her hand a bit tighter as she tried to pull away. Her eyes squinting in confusion.

“… Then you’ll rescue me.”

“Huh?”

Cloud felt his face warming, his hold on her hand loosening for a second to allow her to pull away. When she didn’t, he tried to summon all the courage he could muster to keep speaking. Looking everywhere else but at her, trying to focus on the dripping water and the chattering beyond their little pocket of existence. Ignoring Tifa’s efforts to try and catch his eye, his head turning this way and that to avoid her gaze. “I promised I’d come rescue you once I’m a SOLDIER…” He cleared his throat when she ducked her head in his line of sight, meeting his eyes curiously. A startled noise and his head whipped to the side, too quick for him to play it off. “So, you have to rescue me too… if I mess up with playing hero.”

Tifa giggled after a short pause, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to tell me that,” she said to him, pulling him to her side, not minding the slight stumble as he tried to regain his footing. Her eyes twinkling and the soft golden hue seared into his memory.

“It’s a promise, Cloud.”

 ・・・・・・ LOADING

Cloud opens his eyes to the darkness of his room in Stargazer Heights, the sounds of Nibelheim melting away along with Tifa’s voice and the warmth of her hand. Gazing down at his gloved hands, he carefully pulled one of the leather garments from his hand and set it in his lap. Brushing his fingers along the unblemished skin — feeling the ghost of the scratches and the ache in his bones from Tifa’s tight grip on his wrist. It was silly. He’d grown a lot since then but the sensations were still as real as they were that day.

An ache settled in his chest when he heard a door creaking open from down the hall along with the tell-tale footsteps down the rickety staircase. Pushing himself up to his feet, Cloud grabbed his fallen glove and tucked it over his hand. Hesitantly glancing between the Buster Sword propped up against the wall and the doorway where the footsteps were growing fainter to his ears. Quickly holstering the weapon, Cloud pulled open the door and darted to the railing, grasping it with both hands as he leant over.

“Tifa?”

Gone was the childish roundness to her face and the wide-eyed optimism and unbridled determination. He never noticed until Tifa was looking away from him, but shadows haunted behind that glimmer of hope. And the spark was steadily going out. Without missing a beat, she turned her head up to him and stopped at one of the lower steps, her hand on the railing and smile showing a sliver of teeth. Her face lighting up and temporarily blinding him from the shadows and all else around him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I… um…” Words gathered and died on his lips as he tried to piece together why it is that he wanted to see her now. A dull pricking pain, barely worth mentioning, drew his attention to the cloth bracers missing from his arm. Several thin scratches wrapping around his forearm, angry raised skin presenting both a hollow memory and an opportunity.

“Could you… patch me up?” Cloud asked, raising his arm hesitantly, the cool air stinging the fresh cuts. He thought that they would heal in his sleep but perhaps he hadn’t used his materia properly. Healing wasn’t exactly his thing after all.

Tifa leant up on her tip toes, likely attempting to see what he meant. A startled gasp escaping her as she raced up the stairs in record time.

“Cloud, wh—“

“You promised,” Cloud interjected, noting the exasperation and confusion in her eyes as she rifled about in the small pouch at her hip for a healing materia, glowing a familiar green between them. When her eyes met his, there was a brief flicker of recognition and the exasperation melted into a fond smile that stammered his heart’s beating.

“… Guess I did. Now, hold still, okay?”

Laying his hand in her own, he almost wished that he left his glove off so he could feel the warmth of her hand. But for now, this would be more than enough.

[prairiesongserial]

12.13

There wasn’t going to be a burlesque show that night for the good people of Kill Devil Hills, but the burlesque performers weren’t planning on surrendering the tent, either. They had Ezra and a new guitar player captive, and the game of the hour was trying to find a song that both of them knew and could play. Poor Cody was having trouble keeping up, missing notes and breaking rhythm with Ezra.

Friday was wearing sequined underwear, exactly as she was meant to be. She’d spent the last hour going through costumes, now that she and the rest of the burlesque performers were at a truce. It had really only been Abernathy, the red-haired woman with the pink eyepatch, who’d had a problem with her. Abernathy had disappeared with Ezra for a while to handle something or other, and while she was away, Friday had made nice with everyone else. She’d exchanged the contentious blond wig for a bubblegum pink one that was as long as her old blue wig had been - though she still had her eye on the blond. Short hair was so convenient. She’d be back for it.

“How many routines do you put on per night?” she asked as she shimmied herself into a very tight dress. The dress was cut so low it showed almost all of the black sequined bra she had on underneath. It had not been made with the flat-chested in mind.

“That depends,” said Shoshana, one of the other dancers. Friday had decided she liked Shoshana. She was dressed in a too-big button down tucked into too-big pants belted in place. Her sun-bleached brown curls were cropped just under her ears. Most importantly, she didn’t seem to have any intention of hazing Friday. Shoshana sat on top of an unopened crate labeled “heels - very high,” chewing an unlit cigarette. “We try to stick to five minutes per routine.”

“Oh, we did them a bit longer at the Ace,” Friday said. “And with music in between. Course, we were looking for the audience to stay and buy drinks all night, not tip every girl.”

Friday started to wiggle out of the dress. It wasn’t right, and there was a red one folded in the bottom of the crate that had her eye.

“That wouldn’t work here,” Shoshana said. “People hold onto their money tighter when there’s other tents still to visit - or if they saved the burlesque show for last, when their wallet’s already light. Better to get them in and out for the next round of tippers.”

A quick audience turnover sounded like a convenient set-up for any pickpockets working the crowd, but Friday decided not to say anything. Business was business.

Friday stepped into the red dress. It was made of shot silk, giving it an iridescent shimmer. It had a long slit up the side that ended at Friday’s hip. The dress had no straps, making the sequined bra look ridiculous underneath. She twisted herself to try to take it off without taking off the dress first.

“That one looks good on you,” Shoshana said. She finally lit her cigarette, as if only just realizing she hadn’t done so already.

“Thanks,” Friday said. “How nice do you think I have to be to Abernathy to keep that blond wig?”

“Pretty nice,” Shoshana admitted. “Good thing Abernathy likes me.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “Hey, sunshine?” she called, grinning to show off a chrome tooth.

Abernathy, draped across the piano on the other side of the tent, looked up. “What?”

“I want the blond wig,” Shoshana replied.

Abernathy frowned at her. “To give to…”

“Look at her,” Shoshana said. “She’s a mess without it. Not fit to be seen.”

Friday crossed her arms. “Well, hold on,” she said.

Abernathy slid gracefully down from the piano, a hiss of air escaping from her false leg.

The roar of a truck engine interrupted the exchange. Abernathy continued to approach, but she walked past Friday without so much as looking at her. Friday followed her out of the tent. The truck was still a ways down the road, but it definitely belonged to the circus. It was the same truck that Val and Johannes had left in that morning..

Abernathy watched it approach. Behind them, the piano came to a discordant stop, leaving Cody’s guitar alone to practice the last few bars. In seconds, Ezra had joined them outside of the tent.

“Does he have any idea what time it is?” he muttered.

The truck approached quickly, spitting up dust under the tires. It didn’t rejoin the circle where the other trucks were parked, but shuddered to a halt at an angle right in front of Friday, Abernathy, and Ezra. Johannes tumbled out of the driver’s side, not bothering to close the door.

Friday’s eyes widened. Johannes was covered in ash. For a split second, she was looking at Val stumbling out of the back door of his church. Johannes strode up to Ezra and started talking quickly, but Friday’s ears were ringing. She couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Val?” she said.

A crowd was growing around the truck as Val climbed down from the passenger side. He slammed the door closed behind him. She couldn’t see him - all she got was a passing glimpse through the windshield before the sun’s glare cut her short. Friday shouldered her way past several carnies, then finally turned the corner to face him.

She was staring the past right in the face. There were streaks of ash down Val’s cheeks. And his hair - his hair had caught fire in places. His shirt alone was suspiciously clean, as if he’d been wounded and treated and covered up again.

“It’s not even four o’clock, Friday,” he said chidingly, but with the slightest smile, as he leaned back against the truck. He averted his eyes in that infuriatingly polite way he always would when she was dressed for a performance.

Whatever Friday had been about to say to him fled her mind. Two separate memories of Val were smashed together in front of her, and it didn’t make sense. His words, even his posture, took her back to how things had been before John and Cody and the whirlwind that followed - he might have said the same thing to her some late afternoon at the church, her sitting on the edge of Val’s desk while he opened every drawer in search of the right size nail for a repair. But with ash smeared across his face, Val looked like he had stepped out of one of Friday’s worst days. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and grit her teeth to hold them back, feeling lost.

“It’s for work,” Friday said, finally. She paused. She wanted to touch his face, to wipe the grime away with a sponge like she had done back at the Ace while the fire was spreading - what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had helped then, being able to do something. With Val awake, she didn’t quite dare.

“What happened to you?” she asked, uneasily.

Val shook his head. “It’ll sound worse than it was. It’s okay. I was, um, foggy for the whole thing.”

Now he looked as uneasy as she felt. Friday had blown up at him when he’d left this morning, after all.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Friday said, trying not to sound upset. She was going to add, “You got hurt,” but found that she couldn’t.

Johannes’s voice cut through the conversation before Val had a chance to reply.

“Pack it in,” he hollered to the crowd that had gathered. “The show’s cancelled. We leave in an hour.”

“We already started setting up,” Ezra snapped. “We can’t strike in just an hour. If you had told us - ”

“If I’d known earlier, I would’ve told you,” Johannes snapped back at him. “We have to move. Soon. Now.”

Ezra argued, but Friday didn’t catch his reply in the clamor from the rest of the circus. Her attention fell back on Val. She felt so angry, and so stupid. She’d let Johannes bully Val into going off alone with him, when she’d known Johannes wasn’t someone to be trusted. Now something had happened that was so awful Val didn’t even want to tell her. He looked nervously past her, and Friday wasn’t convinced it was just her outfit that had him acting so cagey.

“If I tell you, you won’t be happy,” Val said slowly.

“I’m already not happy,” Friday said, then clenched her teeth, trying to reign herself in.

“Okay, enough chit-chat,” Johannes said, suddenly in the middle of their conversation. “Ketsele, you’re with me for first aid and an emergency haircut. Friday…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Go do what Ezra tells you. Some of us were burned at the stake today.”

Johannes had begun to steer Val away, though Val shrugged out from under his arm. Friday saw red. She reached out and yanked a handful of tassels on the back of Johannes’s jacket as hard as she could, throwing him off balance and forcing him to turn back.

“What?” he yelled.

“I don’t know what happened,” she threw back. “But I know it was your fault, and I’d like to see a little remorse.”

Johannes raised his eyebrows.

“You two are very similar,” he said to Val, straightening his lapels.

“Friday - ” Val began.

“No!” Friday yelled. “I will not let it slide, and I will not accept that it ‘wasn’t that bad.’ Even if you don’t tell me. I know it was bad.” It was so bad you’re shutting me out, she thought. “Val, please. He’s not good.”

“I didn’t burn him at the stake,” Johannes argued. “What the hell did I do to you?”

Nothing, yet. Friday ignored him, looking at Val instead. He left Johannes’s side, coming to stand closer to her. She was overpowered by the smell of the ocean, sweat, and ash.

“I know how it sounds,” he said quietly. “But Johannes saved my life. I trust him.”

“I know you trust him,” Friday said, frustrated. Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke on Val’s clothes, or if she was about to cry. “I’m trying to tell you...he’s a con artist, okay? I know he’s grifting. I just...can’t see the big picture yet.”

Val shook his head. “Look, I have to…”

Friday grabbed the end of his sleeve.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I got singed,” Val said, with surprising humor. “Really nothing new.”

Friday nodded, and bit her lip. She wanted to hug him, but Val was already pulling away.

He smiled at her, then turned to Johannes, following the ringmaster’s lead across the camp. Johannes tried to put his arm around Val again, but Val ducked away. Friday watched him push Johannes’s head down like some rowdy kid, then fold his hands behind his back as if he hadn’t.

“You better watch it,” Johannes said, laughing. “I’m about to cut your hair.”

Friday slowly breathed out. The crowd had scattered at the announcement that everything had to be packed in an hour. The only still bodies were three she knew: Ezra, John, and the mechanic, Enis. Ezra and Enis were talking, clearly working through a problem. John was staring right at Friday.

She thought he must be staring at something behind her until he caught her eye and looked away.

“I’m gonna go change,” Friday muttered to no one.

12.12 || 12.14