#but that means I’m. fudging details for the in between bits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)

I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨

Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)

EDEN

It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."

"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."

"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"

"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"

"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.

"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"

"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.

"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."

"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.

"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."

The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"

"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.

"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"

The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."

"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.

"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."

The angel went silent, considering this.

The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.

Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

God (God)

Logan (Patton's overseer)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)

Remus (Janus' overseer)

Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")

Roman (a lover)

Virgil (an Antichrist)

Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)

21 YEARS AGO

In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.

Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.

Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.

When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.

This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.

He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."

He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your

Grace?"

Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"

The worm said, "You should punish him!"

"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.

The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).

It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.

Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.

The irony snuck up on him sometimes.

Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.

He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.

What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.

Remus watched the police lights disappear with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"

Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's

sarcastic inflection)!

Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"

Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"

The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.

"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."

"So they say," Remus said.

"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"

"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."

"So you did?"

"Of course not."

Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"

"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."

Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.

"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."

"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.

The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.

"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"

BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.

Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.

"Yes, my lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

"Yes, my lord."

AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.

"I understand."

GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"

Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.

It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.

In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.

The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to

modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith.

Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.

Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.

Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"

"Why?" Logan interrupted

"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."

"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."

"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.

"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."

"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"

"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."

"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."

"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."

"Y-yes?"

"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."

Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.

"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."

Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.

Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.

At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.

"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."

Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.

"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"

"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'

Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of

his lips.

Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.

"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"

After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist.

There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.

And Hell had had nothing to do with it.

same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.

silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."

his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"

Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."

Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').

wanna do that."

"Roman!"

people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.

#sanders sides #moceit #this is a pastiche meaning it's not my usual writing style #basically i deliberately wrote in the style of pratchett/gaiman #just in case you were wondering lmao #anyway you can bug me about finishing it if the urge strikes you; i'm not one of those people who gets mad about stuff like that #it certainly won't hurt #i really do want to finish but at the moment im not really in a place where i feel like i can make art #spicypost #spicywrites #i guess i'll throw in some character tags #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders

56 notes · View notes

jaypsnax · 3 years

Photo

Another post! Ranging from oldest to newest, yet again. Which is actually a bit sad, since I think some of the earlier stuff came out better. Suppose that might be a consequence of trying to get so many ideas out(I drew most of these today), since my brain’s just been FLOODED with them. Kind of. Not all of them are the ideas I want at the moment, but I just work with what I’m given. Also I think this format of post with big chunks of art and then commentary below is one that kinda fits me well, but also makes me really impatient, since sometimes I make something I feel the need to show immediately. Yet at the same time... it’s easier to click that post button when it’s just one over several individual posts. Also feel like bad putting things in the tags that way. Which is a bit contradictory, considering I end up having to tag more characters and such... just brain logic, go with it. Lots and LOTS of thoughts below the cut, mostly about Beffica.

1st: Just another Buddy here, really. I was a bit in between ideas and couldn’t figure out what I really wanted to do. Plus it was practice for adjusting their design. Messing with the teeth primarily, and the bag just kinda... happened. Replacement for the Snaxscope that I’d previously been drawing there. Dunno if I’ll keep it... on one hand I like shoulder strap looks and messenger bags are sick as hell, but it’s rather disruptive for the character silhouette. We’ll see what happens. Also my fine detail stuff for them is really inconsistent and I feel like I kinda lost something that made me rlly like the design before??? So that’ll be a thing to hash out in the coming days. If I can get myself to focus, of course. 2nd: Here’s a favorite of mine that took some real doing. I was working on it most of yesterday and most of the brainwork came down to figuring out how the hell to pose everyone. I found the thought of them all splayed out in bed super damn cute, and while it ultimately came out less goofy than I actually wanted it to... I still like it. Shoutout to drawing along the edges too much and making fitting in Big Tall Filbo difficult. Maybe I can fudge it by saying I can see him as the sort of person to hang his leg off the side of the bed :p Especially if it’s hot. Fan on, leg stickin’ outta the side. Then aside from that, Buddy being too tired to actually fully take everything off and just plop down w the hat and loosened collar ‘n tie... fucking yum. It’s not a detail I intended originally, but I wanted to kinda... maintain the design I’d kept for them while also not having them straight up in bed fully decked out. Compromise! 3rd: Heere starts the Beffica focus... at least for a little while. Dunno what it is, but she’s always appealed to me. Despite the mean girl schtick, or perhaps because of that schtick, I gravitated towards her. After the initial slight wincing at the first drops of “Zonk off”, “Squeeb”, and the abbreviations she uses. Seems to be fairly common for me to find a character I initially dislike or is just a jerk, and then turn around and say “Actually no I LIKE them dangit”. And see, the thing about her is that she has those nuggets of tasty character that shed a fair bit of light on why she acts the way she does after the initial negative opinion. A shared trait with Floofty. She’s made mistakes that drove the people she considered friends away, and ended up sticking to the very habits that likely caused such rifts on Snaktooth as well. Which is exactly why, well, she isn’t really in a good relationship with anyone. But you. And she admits that even your own relationship is tenuous at best ‘cos she just started calling you bestie from the outset and you ran with it. She figures it’s probably only a matter of time until she drives you away too. Despite how she acts, it seems like she still really doesn’t... like herself that much. Doing her quests is just going further down that rabbit hole and continually indulging her bad habits. Y’know, like most of the other inhabitants. Beff sees what she’s doing as a GOOD thing and believes the worst of people. And starts off seeing the worst with Wiggle betraying Gramble’s trust like she does, but then as things go along there’s less and less for her to find. Cromdo just... dances and sings at night. Chandlo is a perfectly nice guy, but she completely denies that he doesn’t have any deep dark secret. Otherwise it’s furthering her reliance on Bugsnax, which you could say she’s one of the worst cases of. She’s not the most likable character, but she is definitely one of the most interesting. I reckon she probably did see some pretty bad shit to make her think the way she does. It doesn’t justify her actions, but taking the time to understand her offers a lot of insight. It’s ironic too that despite Floofty’s shaky at best morality... Beff takes the cake on the grey morality and is probably up there with the hardest Grumpuses to sympathize with. And despite that, I latch on. Then, of course, once you get to the end of the game... it seems she’s been doing some thinking. And intends to do better for herself, which presumably means doing better by the people she’s friends with too. Which I personally have thought of developments for. Like actually forwarding her relationship with the Journalist and, of all Grumpuses, Filbo. For how much she seems to address him personally and the focus on interactions between those two. Which lead into all my thoughts about either close friend group or straight out poly w em. I had more ideas for developments with her which I’ll expand on shortly, aside from mentioning that I very explicitly thought of her actually apologizing to some of the people she wronged. Especially Snorpy. But to actually address the damn drawing and not talk forever on character analysis... obviously there’s something different here, yeah? The idea for the triple heart locket thing admittedly just came to me on spur of the moment while I was thinking about Buddy, actually. How I wanted to adjust their design and such. Absentmindedly drifted over @/Yejomo’s(I hope they don’t mind me mentioning them by name?) take on them with their post-Snaktooth design change. I thought “What if Beff’s design changed and she got extra lockets for the two people she’s hooked up with? And so it was done. 4th: HAHA HEY SPEAKING OF @/YEJOMO.... this piece was shamelessly inspired by the Beffica and Floofty art they did yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday? I don’t know time <3 But yeah just two unlikely pals talking it up over some tea. (”You drink tea? I thought you’d be like... more of a coffee type or something.”) (”Mm, well. You would be half right in your assumption. Coffee for work, tea for pleasure. You may be able to envision how little I get to have of the latter as of late.”) That’s not what would be in the dialogue bubbles. Just what was in my head. Also inspired by the Floofty/Beffica dynamic of that one fic I’d mentioned before, with them becoming friends and collaborating. It’s not what you would expect, but surprisingly, I think I could see it work. Maybe. Anyway, you can really tell I’m not used to structuring scenes or drawing things that characters are actually... interacting with in some form. But it’s decent enough. Poor right leg on Beff though. I think that’s gonna need some medical attention. 5th, 6th, 7th: Now.... we get to the final stretch. Good on you if you’ve made it this far and no shame if you haven’t. I’m just writing chapter length posts for the sake of it out here. These draws stem from one of the previous discussion posts I made about Buddy going freelance after losing their job. Journalism kinda basically turned detective work. In my brain, it makes total sense of Beffica to participate when: 1. She already had a background in Journalism, and explicitly in digging up dirt on people. 2. Despite her cynicism of people, it seems like she does still have a fairly good judge of character. 3. She has some sense of justice probably, considering the fact that she goes out of her way to expose Cromdo’s crimes and tell him that she won’t let him get away with doing those sorts of things. 4. In my way of things, she... y’know, hooks up with Buddy and that’s just extra motivation. I see it as a way of Buddy continuing to do what they seem to have a real knack for, and after the whole Grumpinati affair... maybe even keep up to date on potentially relevant information and up to snuff on their skills. And also as a way for Beffica to exercise the skills she has in a setting where they can be used positively. Keep an eye on Buddy too, for personal reasons and for Filbo. In this instance, it’s about Buddy conducting and interview and by the end, Beff calling that she can easily smell there’s some covering up. There was going to be extra panels of her saying “I don’t know WHY they’re lying. I just know that they’re not telling the truth.”, but I didn’t quite get around to it and I burnt my brain out a little. And that’s it!

#Filbo Fiddlepie #Beffica Winklesnoot #Journalist #Floofty Fizzlebean #bugsnax #So many Beffica thoughts #Also poor Filbo barely getting any coverage here #Sorry little guy I've just got a lot to say about the other peeps first .-.#You cute tho #my art

109 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

U N P L A N N E D, part fourteen

It was the same place you met up with Jeff. A cozy corner was open when you arrived, you grabbed a seat and ordered a latte. Two minutes, five, then ten.

Maybe he wouldn’t show up, make an excuse like so many times before and leave you wondering why people changed their minds.

But eventually he did, a small smile on his face and an awkward stumble when he realized he didn’t know how to greet you. A hug? A handshake? “Hi--Y/N,” an awkward pause. You did that weird thing, stood a bit when he showed up, as if some form of physical touch was a necessary greeting. But it wasn’t. Instead, you sat back down quickly, folded your arms over your chest and prayed that your bouncing knees wouldn’t shake the table.

“You look great,” he sat down in the seat opposite of you, a white button down had you believing he’d be off to another meeting after this, one without blood ties and maybe it’d be less awkward.

A forced smile seemed to provide a mixed signal in your brain, one that short-circuited the tears and instead left a throbbing in your temples. “Hi, thanks--uh--it’s good to see you.”

He looked older--certainly his hair was grayer and his eyes had wrinkles on the sides. A decade had worn into him, but he wore the same watch around his wrist that you remembered from long ago. A leather strap, a blue face.

He settled into the seat, let out a breath and looked down at his hands. “I know this is overdue.”

You let your hands tighten around the mug, unsure if he was going anywhere with his statement.

“I don’t--uh, I don’t know how you’re handling all of this right now, but, I imagine you’ve got to be exhausted. There’s a lot going on, for you, I guess. I’m glad you were free today.”

A nod, now, you let your eyes trail up to meet his. “Yeah,” you laughed uncomfortably, “saying I’ve been busy is probably the understatement of the century.”

He let out a bit of a chuckle, one that let a flame of nostalgia flicker inside of you. Did you hate him? Could you hate him? No. Could you be mad and think he was a dick and wish that so many things in your life had been different? Of course.

He sat across from you, somehow a stranger and your father at the same time.

“When are you due?”

“January 9th.”

“And you’re healthy? The baby is healthy?”

“Jane,” you said it with confidence. She had a name, she had a penchant for kicking you in the ribs when Harry wasn’t around to feel it and she suddenly made you the biggest fan of hot fudge sundaes. “We’re both good, yeah.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he spit it out like it’d set his tongue on fire if he didn’t. “I know I haven’t been around as much as I could.”

You clenched your jaw, waited to see if he’d offer something better than that: a better reason for the last ten years of absence.

“I’d been wanting to reach out to you for a bit, and then you emailed me, which hasn’t happened,” he trailed off as if you could infer the last part of his thought.

And maybe you could, you had a feeling he was implying that you hadn’t made the effort either in the last ten years. You ignored the birthday cards, the Christmas gifts or texts for special occasions, stopped telling him about graduations and stopped answering the phone when he’d call every few months. You finally figured out that he couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t give him the chance.

So, sure, you’d written him off a long time ago, and maybe he deserved it, but his words left a sudden weight on your shoulders about the reciprocity that relationships warrant.

But your relationship with your daughter would be different, and her relationship with her father would be, too, right? There’d be no parallels in your life and hers except for the fact that she had a father who traveled for work. Hopefully.

“I thought that you’d find something out on the news eventually,” you admitted. “I didn’t know if you’d care, but--figured I’d get out ahead of it.”

He avoided your gaze for a second, the look on his face let you know your words had stung, but you didn’t feel too bad about it. “Is he--are things alright between the two of you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, waving a hand as if his question was misplaced. “We’re not together, though. But that’s fine, we’re--we’re making it work.”

“And he’s a good person?”

You nodded quickly, wondering if it’d be too mean to say better than you. Or even why do you care?

But you bit your tongue because you didn’t like being the topic of conversation, and the uncertain state of things between you and Harry wasn’t any more comfortable to discuss.

“How’s Brenda?” You asked suddenly. “That’s her name, right?”

“She’d good,” he nodded. “Kids are good. Callie’s twenty and Kyle’s twenty-two now.”

You hadn’t heard their names in a while. They’d always trailed behind his and Brenda’s on birthday cards, as if they had anything to do with the fifty dollar bill he’d shoved in an envelope.

“And work is good?” He shifted the focus back to you, his eyes were curious when he watched you shift in your seat.

“Yeah--I, uh, I did get a promotion, but I gave it up. It’s kind of too much right now.”

His face fell. “You gave it up? Why?”

“I’ve got a lot going on,” you said it again, suddenly more defensive than before. “I’ve got a baby due in a month and I’m…” you trailed off, unsure how to answer his question or why he had any sort of opinion.

“Yeah, no,” he leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t mean--you know what’s best.”

You nodded, quiet for a second, reaching to take a sip of the latte you’d almost downed before he arrived. “Why did you want to see me?”

His lips parted at that, the elephant in the coffee shop that maybe he assumed you’d never bring up.

“I--I just thought that,” he sighed, a big one that deflated his chest when he looked around the room. “I know I wasn’t good at being in touch when you were younger and I know I was too busy and we didn’t see each other enough, but when you were older you didn’t reply to my emails or answer the phone, so--I just--I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to force you to have a relationship with me.”

Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe you hadn’t actually expected him to give an honest answer, but your eyes welled with water and you tried to blink it away. He hadn’t really answered your question, but he kept going.

“I worked way too much when you were little and I moved and that’s on me, but--” he trailed off, the woman at the table beside you closed her laptop and stood to leave.

“But what?”

“I didn’t know how to have a relationship with you when it seemed like you didn’t want one, Y/N. And when I found out that you were pregnant I figured I should get over myself and make more of an effort, even if you resisted.”

You nodded, unsure if you believed him but hoping it was true. “I guess I always felt like I was second choice,” a shrug, the words seemed to tumble out without much fear. “So I didn’t want to just be the daughter holding you back from a new and shiny life.”

He thought on that for a second, let his hands rest on the table and took a breath. “Things between your mom and I were not good in the end and most of that was because of me.”

You fought the urge to agree. Your mother was always careful to not talk badly about your father, but she’d certainly let a few things slip as you’d gotten older. Forgotten birthdays, a few too many drinks.

“But I let my fear take over and that cost me a good chunk of time with you.”

Quiet for a second, shuffling from the tables beside you, but your world stood still. Words you never thought you’d hear, an admission you thought would never come.

You sighed, “I was too angry to talk to you for a long time because I felt like you just left us behind without a second thought.”

He leaned forward, another nod let you know he wanted you to continue.

“And I was nervous to tell you about the baby and I was scared to see you today.” Saying it out loud made your heart pick up speed, tiny beads of sweat on your forehead felt like drops of dew on morning grass. But saying it out loud felt like the relief of a pool on a sticky summer day.

“I’m glad you came, and I’m glad you told me. Maybe we can, I don’t know, try to be in touch more.”

The fear that lit up in your chest when he said it was real. Tingly and sharp and tight. It felt like he was asking you to be hurt, asking you to step into something blindly knowing that it might lead to more pain.

But what if it didn’t? What if the unknown wasn’t as scary as you’d always told yourself it would be? What if no amount of planning and prepping and knowing could promise a life free from pain or heartbreak or sorrow?

You nodded slightly, looked up at him, and took a metaphorical leap of faith. “Yeah, maybe we could.”

Harry was sitting on the floor of his bedroom when you got home that day: a suitcase between his legs and clothes in a pile on the bed. He looked up when he heard your footsteps on the stairs so you slowed to a pause in the doorway, offered a smile.

“Hi, hey, how’d it go?” His eyes were eager, concern etched in his brow. “Did he show up?”

You knew it pained him to not be there. You knew, for whatever reason, that he felt protective and that watching you back out of the quiet driveway in your prius that morning was maybe one of the hardest things he’d done in weeks.

“He did,” you nodded, leaned against the doorframe. “He showed up and it was--it was fine, I guess.”

“Fine? Was he nice? Did he ask about Jane?”

“He was fine,” you said it again, afraid that recounting the specific details would bring too many tears. You had cried the whole way home, not in sadness or in pain--just in contemplation. What did it mean? How had everything in your life shifted so much in nine quick months? “He was nice, I guess. He asked about a lot and I told him things are fine.”

He nodded, hesitance in his eyes when he watched you for a second. “Okay.”

He wasn’t pushing like he used to. He tiptoed around big topics and he backed off with ease when you seemed to flinch under his gaze. You hadn’t meant to instill fear in him, but somehow, saying you needed space made him think you were more fragile than ever.

Maybe you were--maybe he was picking up on something you weren’t.

“M’glad it went well,” he pursed his lips, his mouth was a flat line when he turned back to the clothed he’d strewn about the room.

So you left him alone, headed down the hall to the room that had become yours. Hidden towards the back of the house, enough space that lined the long hallways and settled like dust on the hardwood floor. An oriental rug and a potted plant in the corner that you dumped half drank water bottles into at the end of the day made you feel like a stranger in the house that might never feel like home.

You pulled clothes out from your closet and tried to determine which pants would still fit before you’d head to meet Lexi for lunch. I have an easy day, she’d told you. Come to set and I’ll sneak off for a while.

But the tears came again when the pants were too snug. Your shoes hurt and your shirt felt like it clung to every square inch of your skin, a suffocating reminder of all the changes to come. A knock had you turning around quickly, half dressed to find Harry with his head poking through the crack in the door, eyebrows arched.

“Sorry--I--I just wanted to make sure you remembered I’ll be gone before you wake up tomorrow.”

You tugged the shirt over your body fully, embarrassed to be caught in a whirlwind of emotion. You wiped at your eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I do--I remember.”

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, felt your nostrils flare in the lie and looked over at him. He raised his eyebrows again, challenging your words with a single look.

“I’m huge,” you said it quietly, fearful that enough volume would make it hurt more. “I’m so uncomfortable in everything I wear and my body feels so fucking weird all the time.”

He was frozen, blinking and unsure. He nudged the door open and it bounced against the wall when he took a small step forward. “You’re not huge,” he said, a shake of his head made strands of his hair fall loose over his forehead. “You’re nine months pregnant.”

“What if my body never goes back to how it was, though?”

He shrugged his shoulders, the look on his face let you know that the thought hadn’t really crossed his mind before. “Probably won’t.”

“That’s not helpful,” you sat on the bed and let out another silent sob. He came a bit closer, a quiet laugh from his lips when he bent down on a knee in front of you.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he clarified. “I just mean that your body is changing right now because you’re growing our daughter--not because you did something wrong. And they change,” another shrug. “Bodies change all the time.”

You nodded, knowing he was right but still struggling to believe it.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he spoke more quietly now, almost a whisper in the guest bedroom that felt remarkably un-homey. “I think you’ll always be beautiful, even as your body changes through life.”

You let out a laugh, wiped more tears but looked down at him. “Did you read some guide on what to say to pregnant women?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “S’called The Expectant Father,” he blushed a bit, dropped your gaze and cleared his throat. “Quite good, actually.”

Maybe he caught the way you looked at him, thought it freaked you out or made you upset. He stood and backed away, over towards the door to keep the formulaic amount of space between you.

“I know we’re not together,” he said. “But I want to be supportive--I know you’re the one doing the heavy lifting, so the least I can do is read a book or two.”

You nodded, and the sinking feeling in your stomach at his words wasn’t lost on you. He dipped out the door to return to packing and you flopped back on the bed, certain that nothing in your closet fit and that the hormones had finally gotten the best of you.

And he was right, he slipped out the door in the morning quietly, but you still heard it latch into place and you heard the car that hummed outside to bring him to the airport. You kept your eyes closed and wondered how it was possible that you already missed him, alone in clean sheets.

Sometimes you’d dream about it all, a blurry scene of Dr. Weston’s office, the pool outback and your old room at Lexi’s. You’d wake up and be sure it wasn’t real, like the last eight months had been a figment of your imagination, but your tummy made it hard to roll over and stare at the ceiling in uncertainty.

It wasn’t a bad dream, just a surprising one. One that had so much emotion bubbling your chest about Jane and about Harry and about everything else in between that you’d wake up in a cold sweat and sneak downstairs to put your sheets in the wash before he woke up.

But lonely nights turned into lonely days while he was gone, you’d climb the stairs and settle into bed: his, but you’d never tell him. You’d use his pillow and plug your phone into the charger he’d left behind, soaking up the pieces of him without witness.

And on the last night, the curiosity had grown. It got the best of you eventually, when you were home alone after work for three days straight, going through work emails at the kitchen counter, take out containers beside you and stacks of CDs still in eyesight.

Were you allowed to listen to it before it came out? He hadn’t said not to. He didn’t offer it or say you should. But he left you alone in his house with hundreds of CDs, all of them now signed and boxed up for Jeffrey to pick up the next morning.

You pushed away from the counter and padded over to the table, picking one up from a box before turning it over in your hands. You’d seen the photo, he’d shown you one afternoon. The tracklist on the back had been scribbled on a piece of paper on his desk for months. You’d seen it in the summer when you brought him dinner late one night while he was working.

But it was rearranged, now. A different order, two tracks at the top of the printed list had previously been near the bottom. The song that had originally been last was now the penultimate track. One was new, something you hadn’t read before. The final track.

Is that what he’d meant when he said it looked different than it had back in the spring? Was the added song at the end of the record the one he’d mentioned months earlier, here in the kitchen with a smile?

S’just one song, I can play it for you.

You pulled the case open, tugged the pamphlet from the front cover and flipped towards the back. Photos in the studio, of him, song titles, then, finally, you found what you were looking for.

Sure, pieces felt familiar, maybe certain words or images seemed to align. But you didn’t know. You weren’t him. Towards the bottom, at the end, etched in ink on paper that’d be distributed to thousands of people was the lyrical confirmation. We’ll be alright.

You looked over your shoulder, desperate to hear the way he sang it, desperate to know if this was the one song he’d told you about. The one about you.

So you rushed over to the computer he had in his office, thankful that it had a slit in the side for the CD in your hands. You popped it in and waited for a new screen to pop up. Skip, skip, skip. You’d listen to the rest, eventually, one day. But for now, you needed to know if your gut was right.

When the name of the song came up on the screen in tiny letters, a guitar track started, an instrumental opening before he went on to air his feelings. Suddenly, the phrase he’d been saying all this time settled into place, right between his fears and his sorrows, and apparently, his assuredness.

Put a price on emotion, I'm looking for something to buy.

Glenne was seated on the floor of Harry’s office, barefoot on top of the carpet in flared jeans. Lexi sat in the desk chair that he spent a lot of late nights in with her eyes closed.

You had your arms folded over your chest as the same song played over the speakers. You’d listened to the others, alone in the office with the heating pad on your back.

But now, the next morning, you watched as Lexi’s eyebrows arched. You’d played a few others, the ones that were certainly not about you. The ones about Camille and the ones that had you curious.

You felt guilty, like you were sitting here with your two best friends listening to someone’s diary, their inner thoughts or internal monologue that wasn't meant for your ears. But somehow, it was meant for everyone else’s--all of the people who’d listen in their bedrooms and in their cars to pieces of a life that you now were a part of. When the music stopped, Glenne looked up at you.

“Huh.”

“Huh?” Lexi looked down at her. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, I don’t know--I’ve heard some pieces of things throughout the process, but, I don’t know,” she trailed off, a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

“Do you think that’s the one about me?”

She let out a sigh, looked around the room. “Do you want to know the answer or do you want me to not tell you?”

“You know?” Lexi said, her voice even more high pitched than before.

Glenne kept her eyes on you and didn’t respond to Lexi’s question. “Yeah,” you nodded. “I want to know.”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” she said.

“Okay!”

Quiet. Lexi leaned forward and made a face at Glenne. “Fucking spit it out!”

“It is!” Glenne leaned away from Lexi and scrunched her nose, bringing her gaze back to you. “He wrote it like--I don’t know, over the summer maybe? I found out that he wrote something about you the same time I found out you were moving in here.”

The air in the room didn’t change. A December breeze rustled the tree outside the window, but somehow, knowing that Harry had written a song about you didn’t send a shiver up your spine and it didn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

Instead, you nodded slowly, processing the words in the final track.

“How’s it feel to be his muse?” Lexi teased, a smirk on her face when she swiveled around to face you.

“I’m not his muse,” you shook your head. “Camille is.”

They were quiet at that, unsure how to reply to your indisputable claim. After a second, Glenne sighed, “it was a while ago.”

Lexi nodded in agreement.

“He loved her, though,” you let out a small laugh, a defeated one. If you hadn’t known before how important she was to him, you did now. Hearing the songs and piecing together tiny glimpses of their relationship left you feeling like an imposter. How could you sleep in this house? Kiss him or hug him as if his heart wasn’t still tied to hers?

Glenne decided to challenge you. “He’s in a different place now.”

You bit your lip, looked outside the window and hoped that the rain would pass before your baby shower tomorrow and the album release. “I know, it’s fine. I mean, him and I shouldn’t be together, so.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The question from Glenne made you snap back into the room. “Am I sure about that?” You repeated the question to make sure you’d heard her correctly. When she nodded, you laughed sarcastically. “I mean, I don’t know, Glenne--you’re one of the people who’ve been warning me about how terrible this whole thing could be.”

She shrunk at that, a guilty look on her face. “Maybe I was wrong.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Not right now, not with four weeks left until Jane and until everything in your life shape shifted into something unrecognizable. Not after not after you watched scenes of his past romance play out before your own eyes and ears. And certainly you finally put enough space between you to assure that he couldn’t hurt you.

But somehow, when Glenne said that, you realized that sometimes no amount of space could keep you safe. Maybe he’d be able to hurt you no matter how much space you forced in the middle. Maybe that’s what love is.

So when he came home that night and told you about the turbulence on his flight, you didn’t tell him you’d listened. You didn’t tell him you had heard the lyrics and you didn’t tell him that now a lot more things made sense.

You didn’t say it because Jeff was there, Glenne and Lexi were too. A few friends from his band lingered in the living room even though it was late. An hour until it hit streaming services, then thirty minutes.

The moment that had hovered overhead, in the future, approaching with certainty this entire time. Aside from Jane, Harry’s album was the only other constant, the only other thing that everything and everyone had been moving towards and expecting.

He toasted at midnight, much more tame than you expected. Jeff pulled it up on his phone and played a few songs over the speakers. Eventually they filed out, promises of see you tomorrow for the show floated up towards the stars when he waved them goodbye from the front door.

Another night of climbing stairs, and when you slipped into slumber by yourself, you wondered if he could smell you on his pillowcase.

You woke up on the 13th of December with a buzzing in your chest, voices already floated up the stairs, he’d warned you that it’d be a busy day.

His mom was there, Jeff took a phone call by the front door but offered an excited wave when he saw you--this time you put a bra on first.

“Morning,” you said, pulling Harry’s attention in your direction. He sat at the island, his mom by his side when he spooned cereal into his mouth.

“Morning,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good--nice to see you,” you came over and offered his mom a hug, she wrapped her arms around you but was careful to give your belly space.

“How do you feel? Ready for the shower today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you admitted.

Glenne and Lexi swore today would be the perfect day for it. Everyone was already in the same place for the release, the show at The Forum is the perfect nightcap, Lexi said. Your mom would drive down and be there for the whole day, Anne and Gemma were already in town and same with Harry’s gran and a few family friends.

So before you knew it, Lexi showed up and rushed you towards the bathroom upstairs. Harry was pulled off in a thousand different directions, but he stood in the doorway and watched as Lexi brushed some eye shadow underneath your brow.

“I hope you have fun today,” he said, “but--you’ve got the address for The Forum, right? Do you need me to remind you how to get your pass once you get there?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you reassured. “I’ve got Glenne Christiaansen to keep me on schedule and get me from place to place.”

“Every once in a while we get so lucky and that stick up her ass comes in handy,” Lexi laughed.

“Fair,” Harry smirked, letting his eyes wash over you once more. “Well--I’ll talk to you, yeah? Before tonight?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Maybe you can stop by the shower if you have time just to say hi?”

“I told Jeffrey I’d like to, but--we’ll see how everything goes. I’ve got to go over to his place now.”

“Okay.”

Lexi made a face at you in the mirror, her silent observation that things between you and Harry were awkward and uncertain.

“Lexi,” he looked up at her. “Don’t let Y/N rip all of her hair out today.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I’m on it.”

He disappeared after he flashed another smile, footsteps down the stairs when she smiled at your reflection.

Glenne had jumped at the opportunity to host your shower. She was the only person in your life that you trusted to find napkins, cupcakes, food platters, tablecloths, and plenty of baby themed decorations in the exact same shade of pink. She spent weeks texting you pictures of things she ordered off the internet and found in party boutiques throughout Los Angeles.

So now, you sat in Lexi’s Tesla in a parking lot ten minutes away. You need to be fashionably late, she’d said. Let everyone show up first and have a mimosa.

By the time you walked into Glenne’s house, which was filled with familiar faces, you felt only a little less terrified about the attention that would try to suffocate you. Maybe it was difficult to admit that this was your life now: derailed and sidetracked and messier than you could have imagined.

Anne wrapped her arms around you and introduced you to his cousins, an aunt and an uncle who’d flown out a few days prior. Smiles and congratulations when your mom raised a glass of champagne in your honor, but you had to hide in the bathroom to fight back tears when she said she’d never been more proud of you.

It almost felt like you’d woken up here, coming out of a fog for the last eight months, foolishly believing that things would never come to fruition or that you’d made it through this unscathed. And on top of it, the slow realization that nothing would make it better except for him had you blotting tears off of your cheeks when someone knocked on the door.

“One second,” you said it quickly, grabbed another tissue and blinked a few times to dispose of the evidence.

“It’s me,” Glenne was quiet, she nudged the door open and smiled, shutting it behind her when she frowned at you. “What’s up? You’ve been hiding in here for a while.”

You tried to laugh it off, guilt in your veins for hiding in the host’s bathroom. “Nothing, I’m alright. Just a lot of emotion lately.”

“Makes sense,” she shrugged. “More hormones than ever, probably. And you know, love will do that to you.”

You didn’t reply to that, unsure of what she wanted you to say or admit.

“He just got here with Jeff, they had a little bit of time before he needs to get to The Forum I guess.”

“He’s here?” It immediately made your insides twist, excited and nauseous simultaneously. But you didn’t expect it to bring more tears. When it did, Glenne handed you another tissue but then slipped out of the bathroom, “stay here,” she said.

You were there by yourself for a second, looked down at the yellow dress that splayed out over your tummy. You reached down and let a hand rub over it, maybe things would be easier when she was here, the opposite of what you’d convinced yourself in some ways.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was somewhat concerned, his eyes narrowed when he stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, just like Glenne. “What’s wrong? Glenne said you’re crumbling,” he let out a small laugh but smiled when you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not crumbling. I’m fine.”

“You look a little stressed,” he challenged.

“I don’t know, I’m alright,” you told him. “There are a lot of people out there. My family is annoying and it’s just a big day.”

“It is a big day,” he said. “Your cousin Carrie told me she’s single within the first three minutes I talked to her.”

“Great,” you said sarcastically. “I shouldn’t have even had one of these.”

“A shower?”

You nodded.

“Every mom needs a shower.”

You shrugged, paralyzed by all of the things that threatened to spill out of your mouth if you opened it. You’d asked for space and gotten it, but sleeping in different beds didn’t make anything easier. You heard the song and cried in the kitchen that night, wondering how he’d gone from a stranger to someone you felt comforted by.

“We might want to go back out there, though--Lexi already probably thinks we’re having sex in here.”

You laughed at that, looked up at him and smiled a bit. “Thanks for not making me feel stupid.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause sometimes I can be.”

He bit his lip, but he didn’t ask what you meant. Maybe he knew it was a small confession that your actions were questionable at best, but he patted you on the shoulder and then led you back to the party.

The anxiety got worse when you followed Jeff into a green room in Inglewood, the laminated piece of plastic around your neck had your name in big letters on it, but it didn’t make you feel any less out of place. Harry draped an arm around your shoulders when he introduced you to other friends, recoiled quickly as if he’d forgotten about the things you’d said over the last month.

There were snacks and drinks and an entire room that seemed to be dedicated to the people who’d come to support him. Your mom laughed when his dad told a story about the time Harry begged for guitar lessons, you smiled when his sister took a selfie sandwiched between you and Glenne.

Having everyone together felt like something that should bring you peace, but instead, it highlighted the ways that your relationship with Harry was far from anything either of you had experienced before. Brought together by one night, but now your lives were weeds on a sidewalk that tangled together.

Eventually you were ushered out to a roped off area with the rest of the gang after the lights had dimmed and the screams had picked up, silently wishing that people would be too focused on him to notice the roundness of your body.

It felt like a formal appearance, more confirmation that this was real and you were real and the photo he’d shared on instagram a few months back wasn’t fake or photoshopped or anything of the sort. So when you noticed glances and heard your name being called by a section of people behind you, Jeff’s advice was to smile and wave.

You watched his mom wipe tears from her face after the first song and you settled into the fact that maybe this would be your life. Maybe smiling and waving was something you could get used to.

Harry was in his element, it was easy to tell. It only took a few songs before you were sure that he’d be doing this for a long time, and maybe you wouldn’t mind tagging along with a toddler who’d bop and sway to the music.

You let him wrap his arms around you at the end of the night, happy to shower him with praise and congratulations, proud of the show he’d put on. It took a while before he turned to you in the green room again, “ready to head home?”

A pang of guilt in your chest: would he be heading to another party if it weren’t for you, for the squash-sized human inside of you? He must have seen the look cross your face, heard the hesitation in your voice when you asked, “are you sure?”

“Positive,” he nodded. “We can head out.”

You wondered what people though, the two of you saying goodbye at the same time, like a couple but not. Everything about your relationship seemed to fall under that category: like a couple, but not.

Not when it made it too messy, not when he loved someone before you. Not when the anxiety was woven through your ribcage as a reminder that this would have never happened without a faulty condom and few drinks.

You found your purse and hugged them all goodbye, thankful for the peace and quiet of the backseat of a black SUV heading for the hills.

He leaned against the seat, slumped but with a smile on his face. “You really liked the show?”

“It was fantastic,” you admitted with a smirk. “Way better than I expected.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah--didn’t know what to expect really. First time seeing you do anything other than play the piano in the living room.”

“I know,” he nodded, his eyes wide in the dark of the car. “Was nervous during the first few songs.”

“Why?” You asked, surprised by his confession. “You looked like you were having the time of your life.”

“I was nervous because I knew you were there! Didn’t know if you’d think I was a freak for dancing around the way I do.”

You giggled, “I mean, I didn’t say you weren’t a freak.”

“True,” he laughed, resting his head on the back of the seat again. His eyes closed for a second.

“Ooh,” you shifted suddenly in the seat. “I think she’s moving,” you reached for his hand, pulled it close to you and held it over your stomach, desperate at this point for him to feel what everyone else already had.

She gave a good kick, one that made his eyes go wide. “That’s her? That’s what she’s been doing?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “At all hours of the night, too.”

“Do it again,” he said, his words directed down at your belly. When she did, he looked up at him, lips curled into a small smile.

“It’s kind of terrifying,” you said with a nod. “A few more weeks and she’ll be doing that out here.”

He pulled his hand away from you, let out a sigh and then looked over at you again. “We’ll be alright, love, I promise.” He echoed the last words from the last song when you nodded, ears still ringing from the music of the night.

You were happy to escape to Santa Paula for Christmas, but happier to come home a few days later and stop by Glenne and Jeff’s. They had Tupperware containers from his mom, Christmas dinner on repeat for a few nights when you decided to crash in a guest room on their second floor.

Harry’s house was too quiet, too empty for such a long time by yourself.

He’d call every few days, text to tell you what he was up to and report on the press he did before the holiday. Another show in London, some radio gigs and interviews seemed to keep Jeff busy on calls in the other room.

Lexi thought it was crazy that you hadn’t exchanged Christmas gifts with him, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You didn’t let him shower you in presents? You’ve done some crazy shit this year but, I dunno, this has gotta take the cake.”

Glenne reached over to the coffee table in Harry’s living room and smiled. “I mean, she’s not paying rent in this house that they both live in.”

“He owns it!” Lexi’s laugh echoed off the high ceilings, she held up her wine glass when Glenne offered a refill. “He’s not making mortgage payments or some shit for this place.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She leaned back on the couch after she set the bottle down and raised her glass in the air. “Well--it’s only nine thirty, but this is the best New Year’s Eve I’d had in a while.”

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” you smiled, lifting your feet to the coffee table. You lifted your arms above your head to stretch--the tension in your back had been building all day.

They’d promised you for weeks it’d be a quiet night. Wine, a movie, take out--the type of girls night you had before everything changes. They both agreed that it felt like the most appealing way to ring in 2020. You agreed, sans wine.

“Ow, shit,” you leaned forward suddenly, a sharp pain in your back pulled your feet back to the hardwood floor.

“What?” Glenne’s smiled disappeared from her face.

“Nothing--just, I don’t know, back ache.”

“Is it happening?” Lexi’s voice was deep, nervous and excited all at once. She wiggled her eyebrows when you rolled your eyes.

“What? No. No--I’m just,” you adjusted on the couch. “I’m sore today. My back’s been hurting. It’s fine now, I’m fine.”

They both watched you for a second, but it happened again when Glenne sipped her wine.

“Ow, fuck,” you said, rubbing the spot near your hip. “I’ll just walk it out, that normally helps.”

So you stood from the couch and headed over the kitchen counter. They both stood but stayed where they were, eyes trailing you from behind the couch.

“Are you having contractions?” Glenne’s arms crossed over her chest, her tone was suspicious.

“I don’t think so, it just feels like a back ache. And she’s not due for another week and a half.”

“Babies come early,” Lexi said it like you were stupid, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

You sat on a stool and let out a breath. “I’m aware.”

But the problem wasn’t that Jane might be early, the problem was that Harry was a twelve hour flight away. As if she could read your mind, Glenne tilted her head to the side.

“Should I call Harry?”

“No,” you shut her up quickly, a raised hand in her direction to ask for quiet.

You rolled your neck, leaned forward towards the granite to try to release some of the pressure from your lower back muscles. It happened again, you tensed on the stool but didn’t say anything, Glenne came over and put a hand on your shoulder.

She was more serious now: “what is going on?”

“I don’t know, but I’m fine. There’s no pattern either--Doctor Weston said they’re supposed to be a few minutes apart if they’re contractions.”

“What is gonna help you with the pain?”

“I don’t know, Glenne, okay?”

“Well fixing your posture might help,” She said this as if it was obvious, one hand on your lower back to push forward and one on your shoulder to pull back.

“Dude,” Lexi groaned, coming over from the sofa. “We get it, you did ballet. You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m just trying to help!” She defended. “Unlike you, sitting here doing nothing.”

“Oh do not even start with me,” Lexi reached forward and flicked Glenne right in the nipple when she got closer to you both.

“Ouch, Jesus!” Glenne swatted Lexi’s hand away, reached behind your back to try and flick her in retaliation.

“Can you both not right now?! I’m a little too busy to break up your stupid fight!”

Glenne made a face at Lexi and then turned back to you, an apologetic smile. “Do you need a heating pad--advil? Maybe we can just call the doctor and see what she says to do.”

“I’m probably fine. Maybe the heating pad will help.”

“Uh, booboo,” Lexi looked down at the stool, her eyes wide. “I love you, but either you’re peeing or your water broke.”

You looked down, horror when you saw that the stool was dripping and your sweatpants were now a darker gray. “Oh my god--my fucking water broke, is that what that is?!”

“Oh my god! What do we do?” Glenne freaked out, her hands waved in the air and she looked between you and Lexi. “Do we call an ambulance?”

“No!” You shouted, “we drive!”

“Okay, okay, the keys, car keys, we need those,” Glenne looked around the kitchen and talked to herself when her hands fluttered in the air.

“Do you have a hospital bag?” Lexi was much calmer, her eyes demanded an answer.

“Upstairs--the farthest guest room--my room,” you corrected, the slip went unnoticed by both of them when Lexi bounded up the stairs. Glenne grabbed her purse on the counter, then headed to grab your phone from it’s charger in the living room.

“I’m calling Harry,” she said, her voice still frantic and pressured.

“Okay, yeah, that’d be good,” you thought aloud. You got off the stool and found a dish towel, wiped up the fluid that had leaked out of you. “I need a change of pants!” You yelled up to Lexi.

“Got it,” she yelled back, her voice echoing from upstairs.

“He’s not answering,” Glenne said, her voice suddenly raising a whole octave after the beep. “Hey, Harry--It’s Glenne, Y/N’s water broke, so, uh, you need to get your ass back to the United States as fast as fucking possible. Please call me, please listen to this. Okay--I’ll try Jeff. Bye.”

“Fucking Christ,” she looked up at you. “Get in my car!”

“Don’t yell at me!” You snapped back, a hand on your back, still trying to ease the pain.

“Here,” Lexi tossed a pair of sweatpants at you, the duffle bag you’d packed with Harry a week earlier was slung over her shoulder. You caught them and stared at her, wide eyes, unsure of what to do. “Change! Now!” She ordered.

So you stripped right there in front of them, left the previous pair on the floor in the middle of the room. You apologized to Glenne for getting amniotic fluid on the backseat of her Tesla when you pulled out of the driveway. She told you to shut up and blew three red lights on the way there.

The more you cried in pain, the faster she drove.

It was a rush through the waiting room, plunked down in a wheelchair like you saw in the movies when Glenne finally got a hold of him. He’s on his way, she promised, he’ll get here. Lexi brushed your hair out of your face, tears in your eyes when you bent over the bed, give me anything that will make it not hurt so much.

The late night moon gave the otherwise sterile room a soft glow, you paced the floor as if the sound of your feet would distract from his absence--his stupid smirk and his annoying jokes would have made it feel less terrifying. Three centimeters, then four.

Lexi called your mom and she promised she’d come in the morning, the New Year’s Eve celebrations were muted on the TV, Lexi pulled a pair of 2020 glasses from her purse and shoved them on her face at midnight.

You slept a bit after a nurse slid an IV into your arm, the beeping of your heart a steady reminder of the seconds ticking by. Jeff confirmed he was on a plane an hour into the New Year, he paced outside the door and looked guilty whenever he popped his head inside. Six centimeters, but the early morning sun seeped through the windows before he landed.

Your mom came with donuts for everyone, the smell made you sick. Ice chips only, too nauseous for more than a few. Relief came around seven centimeters, a little while longer, but you needed an epidural by eight when your whole body felt like it was on fire. You wished someone had told you that it would only numb the physical pain, did they make something to calm nerves like these? The nurses smiled and promised you’d be okay, as if they knew that this wasn’t how this moment was supposed to be.

Anyone else would have a husband, a wife, someone to tell them it’d be alright and that they weren’t completely alone, even if it felt that way. Lexi did her best, a hand on your back when you cried and reassuring words. He’ll be here. He’s on his way--he’ll be here, you’re okay.

The door pushed open at nine centimeters, his eyes were wide and apologies fell out of his mouth before he pressed a kiss to your forehead--he took the soonest flight out, Jeff was waiting at the airport. Lexi stepped back, her hand in yours was replaced, and somehow, he didn’t need any direction.

When the squeezing was only thirty seconds apart he leaned closer to you and grabbed your hand. You’re okay, you can do this, I’m right here. Doctor Weston came in and smiled, the nurse asked who you wanted in the room, but her words were almost lost in the sound of another contraction.

Just him, you said, muffled through pain and emotion, but you swore your mom smiled before she kissed your cheek and left.

So you stayed like that, Harry’s cheek nearly pressed against yours as his fingers wrapped around your thigh. Doctor Weston counted down from ten, breaths in between. A cool towel on your forehead half way through. Tears on your face the whole time, sad and happy and nervous and afraid.

She cried and cried when her lungs filled with air, but she wasn’t the only one. Your face was wet when she hit your chest, as if the emotions that had been tied up inside you were suddenly released, a thousand balloons towards the sky or a wave crashing on the beach.

She’s perfect, you said, she looks like you.

He tried to blink away the tears, buried his head in your shoulder. She looks like both of us, he said, his voice a tiny whisper in the room, as if speaking too loud might break her. Thank you.

He climbed into the bed beside you when they returned her, wrapped in a blanket as soft as her skin. His arms around you and yours around her. He kissed your shoulder, said her name over and over, melodic and sweet.

Something about his presence by your side felt comforting, a different type of safe than you’d ever felt. He brushed hair out of your face and smiled down at you, a kiss to your lips when the nurse finally took her away.

Sleep, she said, you’ll need it.

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo @s-u-t @mleestiles @rubytersteege @heartsandwheels @rainbowparadiseharry @ainatirb-j @sing-me-a-song-harry @g0bl1nqueen @mmithharold @harrymfingstyless @yourpolaroid07 @zarrysfineline @pinkpolaroidgirl @staceystoleyourheart @kind-heart @galsingold @adams-tammy72 @ednaofearth @neverland-city @zna0000 @mythoughtsvsreality @damnigotadime @stylesfics-xx @goldenncherrybombb @splendidsunsetsx @guccicreature @niallsfoolsgold @sunnflowerchild @lanallaa @harrys-stan @kialawley7274 @odetostep @wastedsweetcreature @rainbowbutterflyboy @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @goldenngracee @youredeadrong @indaydreamswithme @amaridon @icedsoylattes @cronias13 @sltwins @rbforsmileycal @tobesosunflower @noxiousacilegna @svnflowrv6 @flagitiume @splamilton @sloanferg @szaghata @girlgotattitude448 @ji5hine @strawberrrypie @stay-lovely @pwettyyharry @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @swooningoverstyles @golden-asoab @svnflowervol-6 @twinswallows @kammy67 @bookwormandtea @peter-prkr @harrys-suits @kiwicherryharry @harriedstylus @harbear77 @tpwkxxkiwis @theresalotof0spaceoutthere @allthenicekids @harrys-watermelons

685 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Doctor

The final continuation of Science and Stuck!

Jack and Maddie had never been in the Ghost Zone before, and they watched with fascination as the camera they had attached to Phantom dipped and bobbed, weaving through a complex maze of impossible and decaying architecture. Really, this whole endeavor would be worth it just for this.

But they'd already learned so much more. The interaction between Phantom and the box-obsessed ghost had been enlightening, giving insight to why Phantom did not simply destroy weaker ghosts who trespassed on his territory. They hadn't believed that ghosts could make deals like that.

It put Phantom's fights in a very different perspective. He might be coordinating with the ghosts he 'fought' to make himself look good. After all, if he could bargain with that ghost, why not others?

Admittedly, that theory was a bit out there, but it was plausible.

They had also been interested to see that Phantom was aware of the camera and its function. They had designed it to bond with the ghost's body, to trick it into accepting it as part of itself. They had assumed that the ghost's mind (such as it was) would be similarly fooled. But, it wasn't. Phantom appeared to have understood the camera almost immediately and had attempted to remove it.

Phantom swooped around another twisted staircase. Maddie tapped on the glass screen.

"I wonder what he's trying to hide," she said.

"Well, we'll see it sooner or later," said Jack, cutting off a corner of his emergency fudge. "There's no way he'll be able to get the camera off." He snorted. "Even if there was a ghost intelligent enough, they don't have the equipment."

Maddie nodded. "I suppose it's just frustrating. All this time, trying to figure him out, and now we have to wait even longer." She sighed. "Him knowing it's a camera is going to skew our results, too. He'll be on his best behavior while people are watching. We already know that from his whole hero routine."

On the screen, Phantom turned a corner, and the Fentons were treated to a view of a vast, open expanse. Floating islands charted their own paths against a green and swirling sky. Clouds of ectoplasmic mist scudded along the not-horizon. Disembodied doors flew by without rhyme or reason.

The picture shifted from side to side as Phantom took in his surroundings. It stopped, lingering on an oddly skull-shaped island for several long seconds before Phantom turned away.

Danny had known the portal the Box Ghost had shown him was close to Skulker's island, but he hadn't quite realized how close. It was a good landmark, he knew exactly how to get to the Far Frozen from here, but he didn't really want to run into Skulker.

He didn't want to deal with any of the ghosts he usually fought with his parents watching, and maybe listening, through the camera. They might not actively try to expose him, but a number of them were too comfortable with shouting out things like-

"I'll wrap Ember's gifts with your pelt, halfa whelp!"

Ugh. Like that.

Danny twisted and froze a tracking missile, not watching as it began to arc to his left, caught in the orbit of the staircase maze Danny had just left. He sent a few blasts at Skulker.

"I think you should find something to put in the gifts first!" he shouted. "Unlike last year. I heard you were begging MP3 players off of Technus minutes-" he cut off to dodge a net. He hated nets. Why did Skulker even bother with them, when he was trying to kill Danny, anyway? "Minutes before the party!"

"Like you're one to talk! You completely destroyed the party!"

"Hey, blame Ghostwriter for that one!"

"And you don't understand! You don't even have a girlfriend!"

"Well, neither will you for much longer if you don't come up with better present ideas!"

The fight had wound down into the two ghosts just yelling at each other. For all the violence Skulker regularly subjected him to, Danny sometimes wondered if Skulker actually wanted to skin him, or mount his head on a wall, or any of the other threats he belted out, or if he just wanted the thrill of the chase.

"Can't you just give me a break for once? I don't have time for this!"

"Oh, please, you have all the time in the world, whelp!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, what with you being a hal-"

Danny flew over and clamped a hand over Skulker's mouth. "Not another word," he hissed. "We're being watched."

"What do you-?"

Danny cut him off, pointing significantly at the camera. Skulker immediately started laughing.

"Oh, yeah, laugh it up. Wait 'til it happens to you."

"Ha! That is why I, with my modifications, am superior! Something as ridiculous as that could never happen to me!" He started laughing again.

"Whatever," grumbled Danny. "Are you going to keep attacking me, or can I go to the Far Frozen in peace?"

Skulker waved him off. "Consider it an early truce present!" he said. "But don't forget! I'll get your pelt eventually!"

"Sure," said Danny, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He floated backwards for a ways before turning, wary of being stabbed in the back. Or shot in the back. Or blasted in the back. Or whatever having missiles or nets launched at him from behind would be called.

But, once again, he was on his way to the Far Frozen. With his luck, he'd only be interrupted a dozen more times before he actually got there.

He sighed, thinking of ways he could block the camera in an emergency. Ice, perhaps? He could always put his hand over it, too. Maybe he should have done that from the beginning, but a part of him, the part that had argued with them before, wanted to show them the truth about ghosts. Part of him wanted them to see.

So, even though he kept fiddling with the camera as he flew, even though he definitely wanted it off, and quickly, he couldn't quite bring himself to cover it.

"Hey! Phantom!"

Danny turned, trying to place the voice. "Sydney?" he asked, surprised, spotting the sepia-toned specter. "What's up?" He slowed so that the other ghost could catch up to him. Sydney didn't often leave his lair on his own.

"Wow! It's lucky you came out here! I thought I'd have to go through your portal to find you." Sydney shuddered. He caught up to Danny. "I'm throwing a truce party this year!" he said, happily. "I'm inviting everyone." He handed Danny a small envelope. "It's a bit early, because I wanted to make sure that it didn't overlap with anyone else's party."

"Thanks, Sydney," said Danny, both surprised and touched. "I don't know if I'll be able to make it, you know what my l- my afterlife is like." His smile turned into a grimace at the awkwardness of his phrasing.

"Afterlife? But you-"

"I have a camera strapped to my chest right now. I'm pretty sure it's broadcasting. I don't really want to talk about it."

Sydney blinked at him. "Your existence is very difficult, isn't it? I'm glad I didn't manage to steal it from you when we first met."

"That's both of us. The shades in your lair still behaving?"

"Oh, yes. It's all fine. Thanks for asking! I've got to go deliver the rest of these! Good luck with your camera situation!"

"Yeah, stay safe, okay, Sydney?" called Danny, as they sped away from each other.

"You betcha!"

Danny tucked the invitation into a pocket. He'd have to check out the details later, when he wouldn't have to hold it at a weird angle to keep the camera from seeing it.

Now, if there were no more interruptions, he could get to the Far Frozen before- He stopped. That forest had not been there before, and, usually, the floating islands didn't move like-

Not a floating island Undergrowth oh Ancients he looked mad run run run.

It was a good thing Danny was faster than Undergrowth. He didn't want to fight the plant ghost on his home turf... if there even was any turf underneath all those plants.

The chase (not to mention dodging and fighting off the seed bombs that Undergrowth had lobbed his way) had drained Danny, and he was flying significantly slower. The hope that he'd get back home before dawn looked distinctly forlorn. He sighed. That was just his life, though, wasn't it?

Maddie had filled half a notebook with questions.

Ghosts appeared to be much more complex than previously believed, even if it was clear that what rudimentary social structure they had was founded entirely on violence. The three encounters Phantom had had in the Ghost Zone thus far illustrated that perfectly.

The first, with Skulker, served as a sort of average. The ghosts had fought, demonstrated that they were more-or-less equals, and then parted, apparently not wanting a more definitive contest. The second had been with a smaller ghost who was obviously submissive towards Phantom. The third, with the plant ghost was more along the lines of what she and Jack had expected: Strong ghosts attempting to defeat and consume weaker ones.

"I wonder what this 'truce' they keep talking about is," said Maddie, tapping her pencil on her notebook.

"I wonder what that sound is," said Jack. "The microphone shouldn't be picking up this kind of interference."

"I think it's core noise," said Maddie. "We can analyze the sound later and compare it to his ectosignature, after we find out where he's going." She glanced at the clock. "And after we get some sleep. Everything is being recorded."

"I'll have to double check all the connections before we do this again. I bet it's a loose wire." Jack pouted.

Maddie nodded. "Where do you think he's going? You don't suppose he thinks he has some way to get it off?"

Jack shrugged. "His lair, maybe? The distance might be why he stays in Amity Park."

"Lairs are still pure speculation, though," said Maddie. "Although, one hypothesis is that they help ghosts reform and heal, so he might think it'll get rid of the camera."

Jack grunted in acknowledgement. "What do you think that white dot is?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"I think it's one of those floating islands," she said. "It's a different color than the others."

They watched as it grew larger on the screen. "I think Phantom is heading towards it."

"Maybe it's his lair," she said. "He does have ice powers. Ice and snow could be what gives it its color."

"It does look like that could be," said Jack.

The island grew larger and larger, and eventually the picture showed that they had been right. The island was covered with snow and more.

"I think those are buildings," said Maddie, pointing out little mounds. "Crude, but still buildings. Perhaps Phantom is trying to replicate features of Amity Park in his lair?"

"You don't think it could be some kind of," Jack waved his hand vaguely, "rudimentary ghost settlement?"

Maddie wrinkled her nose. "What would they have to gain? Why would you say that?"

"Because I think I see some ghosts moving around down there."

Sure enough, Maddie could see movement where he pointed. The ghosts were white-furred, and difficult to see against the snow, but they were there. They looked fierce. Animal ghosts of some kind, Maddie assumed, but warped over the years.

"They all look so much alike," said Maddie, fascinated. "I wonder what could have caused that."

"Well, they say form follows function!" said Jack. "Or the 'native' theory could be correct, and they formed that way, without human consciousness involved!"

"Hm," said Maddie, making a note. "We'll have to look into that again."

Phantom's hand flashed in the camera's peripheral vision. "He's waving to them," said Jack.

"Great one!" shouted one of the ghosts on the island, voice made small by distance.

"Frostbite!" yelled Phantom in return, voice much louder. He swooped down, and was embraced by the other ghost, who was much, much larger.

The other white-furred ghosts cheered. Maddie frowned.

"If he has this sort of reception here, why come to Amity Park?" she asked. "If his Obsession is attention..."

"Maybe it's human attention he wants," said Jack, rubbing his chin. "Either way, they're... enthusiastic, aren't they?"

"I can't believe they've banded together like this," said Maddie. "It doesn't make sense. The structures... they don't make sense, either. Ghosts shouldn't need things like that, especially not in the Ghost Zone."

"Maybe they're a different species of ghost that does need things like this," said Jack, most of his attention on the ghosts greeting Phantom. "We've never seen any like them here. They might only be able to exist in cold. Or they could have Obsessions related to, uh... igloos?"

"They aren't really shaped like igloos, though," said Maddie. "I think there's stone under there."

"The ice could just be dirty."

"That wouldn't surprise me."

Getting to the Far Frozen was a relief. Danny felt a the tension he'd been carrying within him relax as soon as he spotted Frostbit.

It was replaced with embarrassment once everyone started fussing over him. Technically, this was in front of his parents. Still, he'd take embarrassment over what he was feeling earlier. His core was singing that he was safe safe safe among allies and friends, and the cold felt wonderful against his skin.

"What brings you to the Far Frozen today, great one?"

Danny chuckled nervously and reached back to rub his neck. The motion was stopped when he encountered the collar around his neck. "I'm actually here to see a doctor. I've got a bit of a medical problem. At least, I think it's a medical problem." Danny touched down on the surface of the snow, wilting slightly as he tugged fruitlessly on the collar. "I don't really know. Can you help?"

Frostbite's eyes went wide for a moment before shifting into pure concern. "Of course, great one. We'll take a look at you right away. Unless you need to rest? We know we are far from your home."

Danny shook his head. "I want to get this fixed right away," he said.

When Frostbite scooped Danny up and put him on his shoulder, it wasn't a surprise. Neither was the short flight to the Far Frozen's medical 'cave.'

Oh, to be sure, it was a cave, but Danny always felt like calling it something like that, something so crude, was a disservice. For one, the entrance chamber was gorgeous. A huge, underground atrium with an intricately grown and carved ice ceiling, geometric patterns spiraling down the walls; ghost writing above graceful arches, indicating what each space was used for. Shining, high-tech devices that made even Tucker salivate. Some people might judge them on what lay above ground in their village, but appearances were often deceiving in the Ghost Zone, and the Far Frozen was one of the most advanced societies around.

Only an idiot would mistake the tribe of the Far Frozen for savages.

Frostbite carried Danny into the diagnosis area, set him down in a chair, and began going through the routine of cleaning his hands and putting on medical equipment.

"Oh," said Danny, leaning forward, "Frostbite, you don't have to, I know you're busy."

"Nonsense, great one! You deserve the best of care, and I am here to provide." He sat down on a stool across from Danny. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

Danny began to explain.

Jack and Maddie weren't talking. This is because they were in shock.

The ruins at the beginning had been one thing... Those were expected, the ghosts of buildings, so to speak, ectoplasmic echos. But this place? This level of technology- It shouldn't be possible!

"I know," said Jack, and Maddie realized she had spoken out loud. "But... it's here, isn't it? We're seeing it."

"It could be a trick," said Maddie. "A facade. There's no way any of this is actually functional."

"But if it is... Jazz and Danny, they might be right," said Jack. He sounded troubled. "If ghosts can form societies, and create technology and art like this, even if the societies are based on violence, that indicates some form of sapience, of intelligence, even if it isn't human intelligence."

Maddie nodded. "I think we should withhold judgement until we actually see results," she said.

"Yeah," said Jack. "Just... I feel sort of like the bad guy in a sci-fi movie, you know? The one who insists the aliens or people with superpowers aren't really human."

"It isn't the same, Jack. These are ghosts."

"But what does that even mean anymore?"

Maddie sighed. "We'll have to change our theories," she said.

"Ah," said the ghost known as 'Frostbite' on the screen, scanning Phantom with some kind of unknown device, "yes. I see what the problem is. I'll take the camera out, now, and then we can work on the other bits."

The screen went blank.

Getting the collar removed was both easier and harder than Danny had expected. Easier, because all he had to do was take a drug and let Frostbite peel it off, harder because he had to come down off the drug before he went home, lest he get into a fight and wind up with semi-permanent injuries. At least he was able to send a message to Jazz to ask her to cover for his absence.

He didn't get home until four in the afternoon. Nothing remarkable happened on the way back, because the Far Frozen decided to send some warriors along with him to make sure he got back safely. He was a bit surprised, however, to find his parents passed out at their desks in the lab, apparently reviewing recordings from the camera they had stuck to him.

Recordings like that could be dangerous to him. Should he delete them?

No, he hadn't said anything incriminating, and they were unlikely to be able to use the footage to attack the Far Frozen. The floating islands moved, after all, and he had entered the Zone from a random portal. It should be fine to leave it like that.

He let himself turn human. The air down here was chilly. He should get them blankets or something and let Jazz know he was back, then he'd pass out himself.

While he was draping a quilt over Maddie's shoulders, he caught sight of her notebook and the last line she had written.

The kids are right. We'll have to revise our theories concerning Phantom and the other ghosts.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 11

416 notes · View notes

reneesi · 4 years

Text

i never would have thought // CH.01

CH.01 II a bit of a predicament

WRITTEN PORTION

A/N: Just for clarification the Written Portion is just extra content. If you don’t feel like reading and are only here for the SM crack the WP can always be skipped since it is additional content that is not vital for following along with the story. Anyways, enjoy :)!

(Y/n)’s breath caught, watching in quiet agony as her phone screen flickered off which indicated the end of her device’s battery. The warm summer air enveloped her in a state of weary comfort as (Y/n) sighed, looking up at the lightly clouded night sky. The stars shone in bright patches of half constellations, and in an attempt to gather her bearings (Y/n) had come to a halt and began to study the night sky. She cursed inwardly as she began to walk once more, finally realizing that maybe she should have taken Shoyo’s help, but also noting that it was a little late for such things as her phone was now dead and she was still very very lost.

Coming to another four way intersection (Y/n) shrugged and took a right, deciding that if it turned out to be another dead end she would simply lay down on the concrete and pass away quietly. Slowly, (Y/n) made her way through the narrow street keeping alert while also stifling her paranoia in an effort to stay calm. This however didn’t last, since as soon as the tall wall of neat white bricks came into view (Y/n) had no choice but to let lout a loud, exasperated groan. Dragging her feet in disappointment, she walked up to the cursed Wall of Shame and pressed her forehead into its hardened surface, staring down at the ground beneath her.

“What am i gonna do..” She mumbled, the dread of facing the team after this embarrassing little adventure of “individuality” and “freedom” filling her chest. I mean sure it’s not like they were gonna yell at her, hell she’d be surprised if anyone even reprimanded her given that they generally just tried protecting her for the most part but still. (Y/n) had still gotten lost, she was still irresponsible, irrational and now if she tried to explain how her so desired independence was well deserved no one was going to believe her... Given that she couldn’t even be trusted to walk herself from point a to point b. In her defense she was new to the area but not that new if she was being honest and-

“Boo.”

(Y/n) screamed. And not just a little scream, more of a “I’m about to be killed by an ax murderer with a bloody mask” kind of scream. In other words she almost peed herself. Turning with a clumsy thrash, (Y/n) pushed whatever the fuck had just placed a hand on her shoulder away, pressing her back against the cursed Wall of Shame and thankfully placing a couple feet between herself and the attacker.

Clutching onto her bravery, (Y/n) opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the darkness of the alleyway that had previously been behind her. She hadn’t noticed before but due to the buildings and houses the moonlight was only able to shine down at the end of the alleyway and onto the cursed Wall of Shame, somehow managing to avoid the rest of the creepy path leading to its end where she now stood. She raised her fists as if to fight.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” She barked, squinting at the tall figure that was slowly coming into focus...

“T..TsukISHIMA?” She screamed, not as loud as the first time but loud none the less. Said Tsukishima stepped forward coming into the light with a shit eating grin spread from ear to ear. He looked down at the horrified and confused (Y/n) and did the only thing Tsukishima would do after scaring the shit out of Hinata Shoyo’s cousin, he burst into a fit of laughter.

(Y/n)’s expression fell as the realization that she had just gotten “pranked” by Tsukishima set in. She scowled up at him, throwing a punch at his arm as she pushed her way past him.

“You are such an aSSHOLE, Tsukishima!” (Y/n) growled, continuing her tread forward. She could hear Tsukishima‘s laughter die down into silence as he followed her out of the alley way, keeping his distance at least two feet behind.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk alone at night?” He asked, sounding almost annoyed. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

“For your information i’m pretty sure i’m old enough to walk by myself. At ANY time of day.”

“Why do you have to be stubborn all the time?” Tsukishima sighed, boredom seeping through his words

“How can you even say that, it’s not like you’ve ever talked to me long enough to know that about me.” (Y/n) turned her head, throwing back a glare. Tsukishima only shrugged in response

“Dunno, it’s just pretty easy to tell.”

“Whatever... Why are you still following me?” (Y/n) stopped, turning to face Tsukishima.

“Because your phone is dead and you have no idea where you are...” Tsukishima’s eyes stayed glued to the sky as he spoke, head leaned back into his palms which where being held up behind his head in a sort of laid back stretch. “And also because if i show up to dinner without you Daichi might actually kill me.”

Tsukishima made brief eye contact as he delivered his final sentence, catching (Y/n) off guard as she’d been unknowingly staring up at him the entire time he’d been speaking. Both teens quickly looked away, matching hues of red and pink barley coating their cheeks.

(Y/n) considered denying his offer, thinking of the dignity she had yet to sacrifice. Maybe she was close? And maybe if she just kept going a little longer she’d still be able to make it on her own! (Y/n) looked around again, trying to pick up something remotely familiar, but failed.. for the hundredth time that night.

“Fine. I’ll let you lead the way..” (Y/n) mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest “But only if you promise not to tell them how ABSOLUTELY lost i was.”

Tsukishima had already turned and was walking the same way they’d come, hands now shoved into his pockets. He paused, still looking ahead.

“I’ll think about it.” (Y/n) couldn’t see his smirk, but goddamn it she knew it was there

“God, can’t you just do one nice thing for me one time!”

“And why would i do that?”

Because i’m asking you to!”

“Only if you say pretty please.”

“Are you fucKING KIDDIN-“

“Don’t be so loud, we’re in a neighborhood and people are trying to sleep.” Taukishima yawned, taking a right with the same calm easy steps.

“I’m already embarrassed enough..” (Y/n) growled “i don’t want EVERYONE thinking i’m incapable of taking care of myself.”

“No one thinks that, we just worry because...” Tsukishima paused. Had she heard him right? Did (Y/n) really just hear tHE Tsukishima Kei, the boy who never had even bothered to say a simple hello or pay her a moments glance just say he worried about HER? Had he been paying attention this whole time? I mean sure he liked to pick on her and mess with her from time to time but that was just his nature, it’s not like they’d shared a single moment of friendliness during the 3 months that (Y/n) had been at Karasuno..

“They care about you.” Tsukishima finished, clearing his throat. (Y/n) stared at the back of his head unsure what to make of the (maybe?) friendly words he’d shared, and even more confused by the sinking feeling of disappointment plaguing her stomach. Tsukishima had said “they” cared for her, himself not included.

The restaurants light gleamed in the distance, signaling the end of (Y/n)’s first, and so far only, one on one conversation with Tsukishima and somehow, she was disappointed. It’s not like she actually hated him, and sure maybe they didn’t particularly get along but (Y/n) still wanted to be friends. Maybe not best friends but being rejected by the people closest to her had definitely left an endless hole that craved the approval of everyone she met. Unfortunately, Tsukishima was no exception. (Y/n)’s gaze had fallen to her feet, and as she recounted the last 15 minutes the shame only deepened her stare.

“Sorry for getting so aggressive, i was just mad at myself for getting lost and defensive and i shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” (Y/n) muttered, keeping her voice low as to maintain a steady tone.

Tsukishima stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden apology, but he didn’t reply. At least not right away. The two walked for another couple minutes, heavy silence wedging itself into the already existing physical gap that separated the two. But, once they finally reached the entrance of the restaurant that space evaporated as (Y/n) caught up, moving to stand behind Tsukishima who was blocking the door. He had paused, hesitating to walk inside.

“I’ll keep your secret.” Tsukishima finally said, tone stiff and unfamiliar. With that he ducked inside, followed by a somewhat surprised somewhat relived (Y/n). Both were met by a sea of screaming team mates, but only (Y/n) was tackled. Nishinoya and Tanaka clung to her on either side blubbering on about how worried they’d been for their “baby girl.”

(Y/n) giggled

“Guys guys come one, it’s not like i almost died.”

“YoU ALMOST DIED?!!” Hinata Shoyo, who had just returned from the restroom, stood only a couple feet away gaping at his cousin.

“God this is why i CaNT TRUST YOU TO BE BY YOURSELF! SuGAWARA TELL (Y/N) sHEs gRoUNDED FOR A MONTH!” Shoyo screamed, shaking Sugawara by the shoulders

“Hey that’s not fair!” (Y/n) argued, prying herself from the clutches of her upperclassmen and approaching the table. She took her seat and continued to argue, yelling across the table and recounting the last hour or so with a couple of fudged details. Within minutes her team mates had joined along and were pulled into a full blown discussion over the validity of (Y/n)’s story, laughing along as the Hinata’s pulled at either side of Suga, begging him to take a side. After some time the conversation shifted to the upcoming training camp and exited chatter filled the air as the team recounted old memories and cracked a couple jokes. (Y/n) smiled, looking around the table and suddenly remembered Tsukishima’s kind gesture. She glanced over at him, and caught him mid chuckle as he watched Hinata tell one of his loud sound effect stories. Her heart surged, finally after all this time (Y/n) was starting to feel like maybe she could actually belong.

previous I next

MASTERLIST

226 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 3 years

Text

The Best of 2020

Better late, than never. I enjoy seeing other people’s top-10 lists and I said I’d do one for 2020, so here we go. I haven’t had the chance to watch EVERYTHING I wanted to, but you’ve got to pull the trigger at some point. When the Academy Awards took place on Sunday, I felt like I hadn’t seen ANYTHING nominated but I could remember dozens of times where I felt like I wasted my precious minutes with cinematic detritus. I assumed putting this list together would be easy. It wasn’t. I’ve got a lot of runner ups but for now, here are my Top 10 “Best” (by which I kind of mean my favorite) movies of 2020:

10. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Never Rarely Sometimes Always gave me a lot to think about. On the surface, it's about a teenager who has to travel outside of her hometown to get an abortion, but it could've been any kind of procedure she's uncomfortable (or unable) asking her parents for. It's about the lengths she has to go to when her main source of support is cut off. You feel uneasy throughout, wondering what lengths the girls will have to resort through and whether something horrible is just around the corner. For this reason, I think many parents would find the film enriching.

9. Mank

I haven’t posted my review of Mank yet - just haven't had the time so consider my star rating for it "spoiled". If you don't know, it's about Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) and the time he wrote Citizen Kane for Orson Welles. I can’t call Citizen Kane one of my favorite films, but I do often think of it. The story, the characters, specific shots, the overall look, etc. Every time I revisit it in my memory, my appreciation for it grows and in a way, Mank helps complete my relationship with the film. For that reason, I foresee myself revisiting Mank in the future - probably as part of a double-bill. I’d love to see it enough times to memorize some of Gary Oldman’s best lines.

8. One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami addresses the present while being set in the past but something about it clicked with me more than Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. It's essentially a series of long conversations, the kinds that force you to really examine tough questions and see these legendary figures as normal people. Unlike Mank, it isn't so much the individual lines that stand out, it's more the vibes you get from the exchanges. Out of all the movies on this list, it's probably got the best ensemble cast.

7. Sound of Metal

I'm sure you've seen that clip from Un Chien Andalou where an eye gets sliced with a razor? It gives me the willies just thinking about it because if I were blind I wouldn't be able to watch movies or draw. In Sound of Metal, we're dealing with a career cut short because of deafness but the dots are easy to connect. I immediately connected with this movie, which made its ending feel like a punch in the gut.

6. Tenet

I keep telling myself that I won’t love a movie Christopher Nolan directs just because his name is attached to it. Hopefully, this doesn't make me a fanboy, despite my falling for pretty much everything he's released. I love how ambitious Tenet is. The plot is so complicated but then again it isn't because once you're able to grok the mechanics of its reverse-entropy technology, you'll probably figure out most of the plot's mysteries. For me, that was the fun part. It felt good to see my understanding of the story and theories confirmed. I'll be watching it again once groups can gather so my friends and I can discuss everything in detail.

5. Trial of the Chicago Seven

I know The Trial of the Chicago Seven fudges history in ways certain people would say is irredeemable but I never go into a film “based on true events” assuming liberties won’t be taken. At the end of the day, I care about being entertained. My enjoyment was also amplified by the fact that I didn't know what the verdicts would be - my American history is spotty, at best. It's got laughs, outrage, drama, and inspirational moments. Aside from romance, you've got pretty much all the bases covered.

4. Palm Springs

Out of all the pleasant surprises of 2020, Palm Springs was the biggest. I thought the Groundhog Day thing was played out and the 0-star-worthy Love Wedding Repeat did nothing to convince me otherwise. Then, this movie comes along and does everything you want in one of those movies, and then some. Not only did Palm Springs give me the romantic comedy I'd been craving for (feels like we haven't gotten a good one since "Crazy Rich Asians" it also examines what love and relationships mean through smartly written metaphors.

3. Possessor

No, I didn’t put this movie on the list just because it’s Canadian; Possessor is on this list because it’s the most unsettling movie of 2020. I mean that in a good way. I've already talked about how unsettling the premise is but it's also the execution. Those bizarre “dream” scenes with the different identities merging in unnatural ways is unforgettable. That mask of Tasya's face, half-melted is already creepy enough, when worn by Christopher Abbott as he re-enacts her memories is just so weird it makes you wonder if you’re actually seeing what you’re seeing, or if you’re going mad. Then, there's that shot with the fingers at the end! Makes me wince just thinking about it.

2. Soul

During the Oscars, I get a little mad at Pixar. They effortlessly churn out these masterpieces that mean no other studio has a chance of winning an Academy Award for the Best Animated Film category. It makes me wonder if the voters even bother to watch the competition but I don't think anyone could argue against Soul. It's among their best films. It’s gorgeous, profound, and modern without showcasing any issues that might flush your day down the toilet.

Runner-Ups:

Enola Holmes

I never believed Enola Holmes would end up on my "Best of the Year" list but this movie is a lot of fun. If you haven't seen it yet, you should. Just wanted to remind you.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) I was disappointed when audiences didn’t seem interested in Birds of Prey. Seeing Margot Robbie go all-out and given a script that actually makes good use of her character was lots of fun. I also found it refreshing to see a superhero movie (not really, but kind of) that didn’t involve a plot to destroy the world, upheaval all of civilization, or shoot a giant beam into the sky. I think this is one people will discover down the line and go “why didn’t I go see this in theaters when it was playing?”

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm I’m not 100% in love with Borat 2 but boy am I looking forward to showing it to people who have no idea what’s coming. That scene with Rudy Guliani might not have the same impact down the line as it did when I first saw this sequel, but that’s ok. It’ll still have you picking your jaw off the floor.

Nomadland It’s a great movie and I might’ve put it on my list of the best… but I just don’t see myself watching this one again anytime soon. Great movie though. It deserves every accolade you see directed towards it. Chloé Zhao is shaping up to be a major talent. While before I might’ve said “Eternals who?” Now, I’m excited.

The Vast of Night Until I saw Possessor, this was my favorite horror film of 2020. I love the way this movie does so much without showing anything. It’s all about letting your imagination do the work.

Hamilton I’m still unsure how I feel about the casting in Hamilton. Everyone does a terrific job. I understand why actors of color were chosen to portray the historical figures we meet during this story. It still doesn't sit 100% comfortable with me. Then again, who can argue with those results? I’ve seen the movie twice and the songs are still playing in my head.

1. Promising Young Woman

I only had so much before this post went up. Enough for one more movie. It was a tossup between The Father, Judas and the Black Messiah, and Promising Young Woman. As you can imagine, I’m pretty satisfied with the choice I made. Writer/director Emerald Fennell takes the rape-revenge genre and reshapes it into something that feels completely new. Like many of the other films on this list, it also feels relevant to what’s going on today. There are many reasons why I could’ve given it this slot. The writing, the performances, the way it puts your stomach in knots as you wonder what’s going to happen next, the pitch-perfect ending… but I’m going to pick a more personal reason. I try to look at films as snapshots of when they were made. There’s a part of me that winces when I look at Gone with the Wind but I’m also able to take a step back and say “but other than that…” and then just enjoy the movie. In Promising Young Woman, the past is confronted in a way that made me pause and think about two movies on my shelf: Wedding Crashers and American Pie. The Vince Vaughn/Owen Wilson comedy, in particular, has a lot of questionable bits of comedy, bits made even more eyebrow-raising by the fact that it isn't an "old" movie whose entire cast is now dead. Let’s just say that when a movie makes me go “This movie is replacing X”, makes me think this hard about things, and does everything else you want in a thriller… it’ll stick in your head for a long time. That's why I'm calling it the best/my favorite movie of the year.

18 notes · View notes

ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

to have and to hold

request from nonnie: Hey I'm 17 and still sleep with stuffed animals.... can you write something where George finds out and teases you about it? I know I'm a bit weird but I cuddle in my sleep so it's hoard stuffed animals or kidnap my cat (dangerous).

word count: 3.3k

pairing: george x reader

A/N: y’all i love this—totally nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals, THEY’RE SO CUDDLY! and that’s what they’re for! thank you for reading and requesting, i’m so grateful for you all, and in case anyone’s wondering, i’m still irrevocably head over heels for these silly boys. also the title’s a tad misleading but there’s no marriage in this but it’s definitely all FLUFF because i’m a dork

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!

The Sorting Hat cries Ravenclaw! as a young, brown haired girl jumps from the stool and gleefully makes her way over to her respective House table.

Everyone begins to clap, and although he doesn’t feel much like it, George does too.

He’s a bit taken aback when you say to him suddenly, “I can’t believe that was us only a few short years ago.”

Just a few months ago, it seemed as though your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was still a long while away. It couldn’t be creeping up that quickly, could it? You both met only six years ago in Transfiguration, but it feels like a lifetime. George grins at the memory. But now, sitting and watching the newest first years get placed into their Houses, he’s feeling the nerves of the finality of it all—even though you’re not there yet. Not exactly.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks you, watching another student jump up excitedly and run to the Hufflepuff table. More claps ensue. “There’s no way this is our last year here, right? We must be dreaming, or something.”

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, and George feels his insides go warm. “Of course,” you reply, “we’re dreaming.”

“Would you two quit being so melancholy?” Fred takes you by surprise when he kicks both of you underneath the table. “It’s our final year! It’s exciting! We’ve got loads of mischief planned, Y/N, and we expect your help.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to get out of this, is there?”

The twins smile and chorus together, “Nope.” before diving head first into the feast that’s just appeared in front of you all.

“Ah well—it is exciting, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to look forward to!” you tell them, cutting into the piece of chicken on your plate, “and besides.. with whatever you two have planned? I reckon I’m bound for some type of adventure. Things could be worse, right?”

Just then, a sickeningly sinister giggle emits from the front of the Great Hall; the three of you look at a woman dressed in all pink, whose face resembles that of an old toad, chatting animatedly with Dumbledore who’s looking positively woebegone.

“Ugh,” you say, looking back and forth between the twins, “maybe I’ve spoken too soon.”

— -

You’re tiptoeing next to George in the middle of the corridor; you keep whirling around to check if anyone’s behind you. Months, you’ve been doing this. He can’t help but grin at your flustered state. “D’you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him stealthily as the two of you meander throughout the castle halls.

“Of course,” he replies, squeezing your hand. But inside, he’s just not entirely sure. By the sounds of what Harry’s said, getting detention with Umbridge is no walk in the park. He turns back to you and continues, “Don’t worry—Harry knows what he’s doing. Plus, we haven’t been caught yet, have we?” He jabs you in the ribs and teases you, “Where’s that sense of adventure we so admire? Oi, here’s Fred and Ginny.”

Just then, the two Weasley siblings round the bend and quite literally bump into you both. Fred says quietly, “Merlin help me—I can’t ever remember where this bloody room is,”

“Seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” you reply in a lowered voice, your eyes shifting across the corridors, “so you’ve got a flew floors to go, Freddie.”

Both he and George laugh; Fred continues, “You’d think after months of going to these meetings, I’d remember where it is?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny elbows Fred, teasing him slightly. “C’mon then, let’s go—looks like the coast is clear,”

The four of you make your way up two more flights of steps, sneak past the tapestry, and finally find yourselves inside the Room of Requirement.

It’s an easy lesson today; with the impending Christmas holidays, everyone is in quite a chipper mood—the Room of Requirement has a light, airy feel to it, and everyone seems to be doing their best at all of the defensive magic Harry’s taught so far—even Neville! When he dismisses you for the day, noting that you probably won’t meet again until the New Year, a dramatic groan nearly shakes the room—it seems as though everyone wants to stay.

When you all land back in the common room and take a seat next to the fire, Fred immediately begins to market his and George’s products to a bunch of excited looking Gryffindors; to you, George just shrugs.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you begin, standing up from the couch and gesturing George toward the dormitory, “I think I’ve fixed that little issue with the Fever Fudge.”

George grins broadly; there’s not many people he and Fred trust with their products, but you? You’re basically a third owner. He stops short, though, at the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. You shake your head and say, “No worry, most everyone’s gone home for the holidays already. Plus—I’ve already hoodwinked whatever spell the professors have cast.”

“So I won’t get caught, then?”

“Nah,” you reply, urging him forward, “I’m strangely brilliant at derailing bits of professional magic,”

He beams at you at this and follows up to the girls dormitory, leaving Fred with a room full of students eager to get their hands on all Weasley products.

It doesn’t look as different from the boys' dorms as he thinks; it’s pretty much the same setup, same four posters, similar looking curtains. He shrugs, thinking, Nothing to worry about, but when he notices you plop down on your bed, he suddenly feels his insides constrict. You pat the spot next to you and say, “Well c’mere, won’t you?”

He places himself down next to you, careful not to mess your very neat bedspread, while he watches you rummage through a bit of your trunk. “Ah—here we are,” you say brightly, pulling out the box of Fever Fudge you’d hidden so as not to be stolen, “good as new, Georgie. The fevers, now, should stop at the appropriate number we’ve discussed—they shouldn’t continue to spike as the evenings go on. Any problems, let me know!”

“You’re brilliant, truly,” he says, peering down at the box of his own inventions. “How did you get so bloody good at this?”

You smile sweetly at him and flip your hair, “Just got lucky, I suppose.”

He laughs and is about to head back downstairs, careful not to mess up anyone’s things, when he spots a little brown bear on your bed near your pillows. His lips curl into a grin, “Erm.. Y/N,” he begins, pointing to the stuffed bear, “what is that?”

Suddenly you jump onto your bed and try to secretly slip this tiny little animal behind all of your pillows. The rosy pink color of your cheeks is evident in the sunlight flooding the windows, “Erm—what’s what, George?”

He places the box of fever fudge down on the table next to your bed, and walks slowly over to you. With a mischievous grin on his face, he continues, “Don’t make me jump on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But I would.”

And as soon as he says it, he does it; he flops down dramatically, ruining your very tidy sheets. He begins to poke you in the ribs, a tickling of some sort, to try and get you to move. It seems to work, because he grabs the bear from behind your back and you both fall backwards, next to one another, laughing quite animatedly.

He waits with bated breath for you to explain yourself. “Shove off, Georgie,” you say, stealing the bear back from him, twirling it in your fingers and peering at it. You offer to continue, “My mum gave him to me when I was a baby. When I was born. A little ‘coming home’ gift, if you will.”

“You mean to tell me,” George begins, “that you’ve had this for seventeen years?”

You roll your eyes and stifle a bit of laughter. You roll off of the bed, stand up, and place the bear delicately into your trunk. You pull George into an upright position and say, “This conversation’s over. C’mon—let’s bring Fred the fixed Fever Fudge,”

“This conversation is certainly not over,” he teases.

“It’s a source of comfort, you git!” you reply, slapping him playfully across his chest.

“Comfort,” he echoes through a chuckle, “right. And he’s here now because.. you need comforting after a long Potions lesson with Snape?”

You slap him again as you both begin to laugh. “Yes,” you tell him straightforwardly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, after a long day, I just need something to hug, to hold whilst I sleep, alright? Quit the teasing,”

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to pull you into an embrace washes over George; he wants, more than anything, to just curl up with you on your bed right now, and to hug you for as long as you need. He’s about to do so, when you pull him by his hand and say, “Oh come on—can’t leave your brother waiting, can we?”

George can’t help himself; he just needs to tease you. Just a little bit more. He begins to tickle your waist when he calls in a sing-song voice down the stairs, “Oh, Freddie!”

You turn and grab his arms; even though he’s feeling rather mischievous, the butterflies are swirling around his stomach, as well. A sinister smirk tugs at the edges of your lips and he feels as though his entire body goes rigid when you wink at him, “Don’t you dare.”

— -

When Ginny enters the portrait hole, she’s surprised to see George slumped in an armchair and not with Fred, off creating some sort of chaotic mischief right underneath Umbridge’s nose.

“No pranks today?” she asks, sinking beside him on the couch.

“Reckon you didn’t see Angelina hanging all over Fred in the Great Hall, then?”

“Guess I must’ve missed it,” she rolls her eyes, and they both smile. “Speaking of—how are things going with Y/N?”

George is slightly taken back; he peers at Ginny with a confused expression and she just shakes her head at him. He knows that everyone else sees right through him, but he never expected his younger sister to bring it up. Guess he’s the type of bloke who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Erm, I mean—things are fine.”

“Things are most certainly not fine. Why haven’t you told her?”

George has been preparing for this—whether it was to come from a sibling or a friend—he knew, down the line, someone would question him as to why you two aren’t together. He slumps back into the couch and twirls his wand in both his hands. “Well—‘cause, we’re leaving soon, aren’t we? Fred and me. Just doesn’t make sense at this point.” He sinks a little lower, and his face turns sullen. “I’ve missed my chance. It’s too late, Gin.”

Just then, you pop inside with Dean and Seamus, giggling animatedly about some silly joke one of them made, and you raise your hand to George and Ginny before quickly heading upstairs to the girls dormitory to change out of your uniforms. There’s a tug at George’s heart—if only he could sneak up there without anyone seeing.

“Hey,” Ginny snaps her fingers at him, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him out of his daydream-like state, “It’s never too late.”

“You think?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows when she notices you coming back down the stairs and making a b-line right toward them. Quietly, she tells him, “I reckon she’ll think the same.”

When you seat yourself down next to them and Ginny quickly changes the conversation, George can’t help but grin goofily at the bunny slippers you have on. You sit yourself comfortably on the couch next to him, cross your legs, and blow lightly on your steaming cup of tea while Ginny relays the story of her brilliant Bat Bogey hex in the last DA meeting to you. Each and every time you smile broadly, George can feel himself shifting closer and closer to you.

— -

“The devil incarnate, she is,” Ron tells his siblings darkly. He peers down at the top of his hand, running his fingers over his silky smooth skin, knowing exactly what is about to happen as the DA prepares for a detention with Umbridge.

Harry shakes his head and replies, “Just try not to think on it all too much. It’ll be over before we know it.” He’s still looking on edge, sleep deprived. The whispers of other members can be heard slightly as Umbridge makes her way down the corridors.

“How is this even legal?”

“Where’s Professor Dumbledore? She can’t possibly get away with this.”

The Great Hall is darker than normal; the hour and a half spent there is some of the most draining George has felt in his entire life. It’s as if the writing alone is setting his soul on fire. Or, perhaps, is it the weak smile and look of pure anguish you give him from a few rows over? He can’t help but feel extremely protective, and he’s shooting daggers at Umbridge each and every chance he gets.

When you’re all finally released, Umbridge giggles in a mocking, satisfied tone. She makes her way back to her office as all of the members of the DA walk begrudgingly back to their common rooms, completely ignoring the apologies of Marietta Edgecombe, who, by the looks of it, is now regretting her decision of giving up the DA to Umbridge.

The Gryffindor common is filled with students looking positively sullen, almost each and every one of them running their fingers over their red, raw, and bloodied hands. George hops through the portrait hole and notices you in the corner, talking animatedly with Ginny and Fred.

“I swear,” Fred’s saying as George sits himself down next to you, “she’s barking mad.”

“You’d think she’d end up in Azkaban after pulling a stunt like this,” you agree, tracing the outline of the cuts on your hand with your finger, “but I reckon she can get away with anything.”

“I reckon you’re right,” George says, leaning his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath and opts to continue, “how could she possibly get away with something like this?”

Ginny offers, “It’s the bloody Ministry.”

There’s a collective groan from all of you. Ginny shakes her head and continues, “Mum and Dad are going to go wild, you know; this isn’t over. By the way, speaking of Mum and Dad—you two planning on telling them that you’re leaving in a few weeks time?”

George suddenly feels his heart stop. Next to him, you look frantically back and forth between him and Fred, a confused expression plastered across your face. Fred is shaking his head, Ginny’s cheeks are flooding with color, and George is dreading the next conversation.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” you ask, stunned. “When?”

“Gin, we only told you because you overheard us the other night,” Fred says through gritted teeth. Then, he softens and says to George, “but.. I reckon it’s maybe time we tell a few people, eh Georgie?”

“Oh no,” Ginny says sheepishly, looking down at the floor. But you just grin weakly at her as she pulls Fred to his feet and they make their way over to the other end of the common room, most likely to tell Ron of their plans. You hope Ginny isn’t feeling too guilty.

George swallows thickly and then begins, “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “You don’t need to apologize to me.” You place your hand over his and wait with bated breath for him to tell you what’s going on. You smile broadly at him when he begins to explain.

“We’re, erm, heading out a bit early, you see,” George begins, his eyes shifting from yours to the floor, “we’ve got these grand plans for a business to open up—in Diagon Alley, actually.. sell our inventions. Reckon it could become quite successful if we market correctly—”

His heart is thundering against his rib cage, surely trying its best to escape his chest, and he’s nervous that you’re not going to approve, you’re going to be angry, you won’t ever talk to him again. But to his surprise, you throw your arms around him excitedly and pull him into a bone crushing hug. He’s relaxing in your arms as he listens to your squeals of delight, breathing in the scent of your hair, focusing on the way your body feels beneath his fingertips. And when you pull away from him and shake his shoulders slightly, with both a bright smile on your face and tears in your eyes, you tell him, “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re talking quickly, shaking your head admiringly, throwing your hands into the air and running them through your hair, chuckling lightly, blinking quickly to push back any tears rising to the surface, but he can’t even hear what you’re saying. All George can hear is the pounding in his ears from the steady beat of his own heart, and not before long, he’s laughing at your exasperated state and is leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips gently to yours and melting into something that’s been building up for years and years. The tension and surprise is subsiding, and you’re playing absentmindedly with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck and you’re both ignoring the annoying whistles from his siblings near the fireplace, and you’re quite certain that George is making a rather inappropriate hand gesture at them across the room for interrupting your moment.

When you two finally part, George grins broadly at you, his hands still shaking slightly due to the adrenaline rush and he asks you, not bothering to answer Fred’s whistles at all, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” you cry out, still obviously rather electrified from both the news and the kiss, “No! I’m not mad.. how could I be? I’m so excited for you both. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming round to visit all the time.”

“Well, you better,” he replies cheekily, pulling at the collar of your shirt. Then, “I’m really going to miss you these last few weeks.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you reply breathlessly, and he now feels a tug at his heartstrings. He’s feeling nervous. Off balance. Do you still want to be with him after he leaves? Can you two survive on letters alone until after you graduate? “Do you, erm—I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over the light stubble on his cheeks. A feeling of warmth overtakes him when you grin, peering into his yearning eyes, “We’ll make it work.”

He pulls you into his arms, and the calls from Fred and the others don’t seem to subside in the slightest. “We’re being summoned,” you tell George, leaning back against his chest. You pull out some of their inventions from your own pocket, things they’d given you early on; a pygmy puff, a screaming yo-yo, extendable ears, and more. You begin fiddling with them in your fingers and George grins against your shoulder.

“D’you want to go?”

You intertwine one of your hands in his. “Just hold me for a while first, would you?”

He giggles softly and wraps his arms tighter around you. Teasing begins to bubble up inside him and he can’t help it, he just has to say it. “Don’t you want to go and get your bear first?”

He expects the playful slap across his chest, he grins goofily when you begin to laugh, but what he doesn’t expect is what you say next. He’s practically putty in your hands when he pulls you closer and breaths in your scent when you reply,

“Reckon I don’t need it—I’ve got something else to hold, now.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading darlings, ily so <3

204 notes · View notes

nonetoon · 4 years

Note

how do you make your pixel art? is there a program you’d recommend? I’ve been trying to make some, but it’s not going too well ;;

My process isn’t necessarily the most straightforward, it’s a lot of fudging it and making little changes as I go, but I’ll do my best to explain!

First: I use MS Paint for my sprite and pixel art, but there are many other programs that can be used to make it! I’ve had to use photoshop when I didn’t have access to MS Paint, but I prefer Paint because I’m more used to it and it feels like it more caters to pixel art than anything else.

For characters my process is basically-

1. Quick sketch, mostly to figure out the size, shapes, pose, and silhouette I want. It doesn’t have to have every detail yet!

2. Start filling in the shapes. You might have to make the sketch color lighter for this depending on the colors your using, your priority is making sure you see the new colors better than the sketch color. In short, I create the shapes and details starting with the biggest single-color shapes (the head, shirt, limbs, tail) and after that add on the details (spots, eyes, flowers). Some colors that don’t make the shapes well defined from one another, like the light purple of the arms and the pink of the shirt, need an outline of a different color to define them.

3. After that, I get rid of the sketch bit left (either with an eraser tool, white pencil tool, or a few other MS Paint tricks to get rid of it) and add a final outline around the figure. You want to try to use a color darker than the rest so the figure stands out, in this case I used a slightly darker blue than I used for the arms, mouth,and eyes.

For objects or more finished stuff I want to be cleaner or more detailed, there’s a little different method.

I still start out with the sketch, but then I go directly to the line art. The line art here is not only for the outside of the object.

On the left, you can see the clear black outline that is used to separate some of different objects for definition, but not for everything. For things that I don’t want as defined, or parts that are going to be a separation between light and shading, I mark these areas with a variety of colors. These different colors like red and blue don’t really mean anything at this stage! I just use what colors that allow me to tell the different areas apart from each other. So I can tell the white of the blanket (marked with orange) apart from the line for the shading of the blanket (red). These different lines get filled in as colors are added. So when the blanket becomes orange, the red line and the area below it is filled in with a darker orange.

A bigger example of this is the outline/shade separation is the before and after of the finished player’s room! (the player character is there to make sure I sized everything right in comparison to the character).

The only other tip I really have is to try to keep shapes as clean as possible when it comes to objects! This isn’t really a rule, but it’s just what I prefer my objects to look like.

Diagonal shapes make things interesting and helps make things look less like they’re on a grid, but it’s important to keep them neat! The diagonal on the left looks much cleaner than the one on the right because the pixels (or squares) line up perfectly diagonal with each other while the one on the right has some sections with pixels side-by-side. It makes it looks a little less nice and more lumpy.

To keep things like circles more clean looking, the trick is symmetry. Keeping the left side the same as the right side makes it look a lot better, and much more like a perfect circle or ellipse. I usually use a light line down the middle to keep track of this. If your unsure if one side is equal to the other, just erase ones side, copy the one that’s still there, paste it, and flip it. This will guarantee that the sides are even!

This isn’t as simple for everything, since things come in more shapes than circles and squares, but by understanding how to make both look neat you can combine them! The curved part of a faucet needs to be symmetrical like a circle, while the lower part is just a rectangle shape. Combining these shapes both in separate objects and even using them in the same one helps create a balance between all these objects, it looks clean without looking grid-like, and allows for interesting and curved shapes without looking like a mess.

In the end it’s a lot of trial and error to get exactly what you want, but hopefully this has been a little helpful to get you there!

#long post #asks #pixel art #tutorial

761 notes · View notes

girl-with-cat-eyes · 4 years

Text

Sweeter Than Ice Cream

Summary: Virgil is feeling good about his body for once. Leave it to assholes to come along and ruin the feeling. Luckily his boyfriend is there to cheer him up.

Contains Thvi, mentioned Demus, mentioned Logicality, mentioned Rosleepmile, chubby trans Virgil, and mentions of bullying.

A/N: Alright the birthday fic is going up a bit late but who cares cause it's adorable. Really I just wanted something ridiculously sweet and comforting so here we are. And if people like it I can totally write more for this verse cause I already have tons of ideas.

"Hello handsome."

Virgil was getting his text books out of his locker when he felt a familiar pair of arms slide around his waist, a hand stopping to squeeze his round bottom before continuing on it's way. He smiled and turned around to greet their owner, giving his boyfriend a smile before he spoke.

"Good morning to you too, beautiful." He wrapped his arms around Thomas' neck and him a kiss. "Glad you're here today, I was worried about you yesterday."

Thomas gave an apologetic smile and pecked his nose before speaking. "I'm sorry Virge. I tried to text you, but I had a dentist's appointment yesterday." He flashed his freshly cleaned teeth in an exaggerated grin. "How are you today?"

"Well let's see:", Virgil began to list off.", today is a friday, dad offered to make my lunch today which meant I got an extra half hour of sleep, I have leftover mac and cheese for lunch, today is a Friday, I'm having a sleepover with my amazing boyfriend tonight, and said boyfriend is holding me right now. So I'd say it's about as good as it gets. Not to mention I'm feeling more body confident than I have in months. How about you?"

Thomas smiled. "As perfect as possible. Especially now that I have you in my arms." He squeezed Virgil's sides gently. "And I'm glad you're feeling confident right now. You deserve to.", Thomas smiled at his boyfriend and took note of his clothing choice for today., "And you look great in what you're wearing, sweetheart. I mean you always look great, but you look adorable right now. I don't think I've seen you in something pastel since you got this."

Virgil blushed at the mention of his unusual outfit choice. While normally he wore baggy and dark clothes, not only to match his emo personality but to help deal with his insecurities about his weight and dysphoria, but today he'd felt confident and comfortable in his body and went with a different choice. He wore light purple overall shorts and a cute black top underneath along with knee high socks and purple chuck taylors. He'd finished off the look with a black heart choker and his usual makeup. He'd been excited to see Thomas' and his friends' reactions to him something so different from his usual style.

"I liked how it looked on me and I wanted to wear it. Besides I thought it would be the perfect outfit for our sleepover tonight." Virgil reluctantly pulled away from the hug to finish grabbing his textbooks, "I'm glad you like it. I was hoping you would."

He felt arms wrap around him again and warm breath tickle his neck as Thomas leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Well I like you in anything. Or nothing. Especially in nothing at all." He pressed a kiss behind Virgil's ear.

Virgil held back a groan before shutting his locker and turning around. "You can't just say that when we have 10 minutes til class."

"Fine. I'll tell you tonight while your parents are out. For now I'll ask you about the homework from yesterday." The pair made their way down the hallway to their first class.

If Thomas had to pick a favorite part of school days it would have to be lunch. Not only because it served as a break between classes or because it was when he could finally eat, but because he shared a lunch period with his boyfriend. He got a solid half hour everyday to just sit with Virgil and spend time together. It was nice.

Of course it would be nice if he hadn't drank an entire water bottle during his last period and was now rushing to the bathroom. He'd gotten lucky that the one closest to the cafeteria was empty and he didn't have to search for one.

At least, he thought it was empty. Until he heard a sob coming from one of the stalls behind while he washed his hands. Thomad froze at the sound. He really should be meeting Virgil for lunch. But what if someone was hurt? What if they needed help? Fuck it, he thought, it couldn't hurt to ask if they're ok.

"Hey?" He called. "Are you ok? Do you need me to get the nurse or something? It's my lunch period so I have the time."

He heard a gasp and some movement before a familiar voice spoke. "Thomas?"

Virgil. Shit. What could have happened in the time that they had been apart? Thomas rushed over to the stall and opened it to see his boyfriend curled up in a corner looking at him. His hurt beat painfully when he saw his black eye and bloody nose that Virgil was pressing toilet paper to. He felt a hot rush of anger when he saw that half of his face appeared to be covered in what looked like cake.

Thomas grimaced and got up to wet some paper towels before setting to work with cleaning Virgil's face. Afterwards he pressed some more toilet paper to his bloody nose and sighed. "What happened?"

Virgil kept his eyes down. "The usual shit. I went to use the bathroom and was ambushed. They said that they felt uncomfortable with me using the same bathrooms as them. That I'd probably try to force them to be gay. That freaks like me shouldn't be allowed in the school period. After that they beat the shit out of me." Virgil gestured to his bruised face. "And then they…. They brought a piece of cake with them. Said a whale like me would probably love it. And they shoved it in my face."

Thomas felt molten hot anger wash through him but pushed it aside for now. Virgil needed him. He stood up and pulled his boyfriend up with him. "Come on, Stormcloud.

"Where are we going?"

"Well first we're going to stop by Holy Cow's and get sundaes because you deserve something as sweet as you are. Then we're going to go to your place and call your dads to tell them what happened. And then we can cuddle and begin our sleepover early."

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. "And what about class? You've already missed yesterday."

Thomas shrugged and held Virgil's hand as they left the bathroom. "I'll tell your uncle what happened and ask him to get our homework for us." Thomas knew that Virgil's uncle, the school drama teacher, Roman would be fine with it. He'd probably claim that what happened to his nephew was a huge offense and demand to know who did it.

They signed themselves out for the day and got into Thomas' car. He made sure to send a text to Roman explaining what happened and asking him to get their homework for them. He received an almost immediate response saying of course and that he would be by after school with it and then they could tell him who it was.

First stop was ice cream. Virgil ended up dozing in the car and Thomas didn't have the heart to wake him so he just went in by himself. Besides it wasn't like he didn't know Virgil's favorite sundae. His boyfriend was a chocolate lover from way back.

He smiled as he entered the shop. Some of his favorite memories were here. Coming here as a kid when he got a good grade, his dads taking him here on his birthday. He even went here with Virgil on their first date. He still remembered how nervous Virgil had been to eat anything around him at the time. It had taken forever to assure V that his weight was fine. It could still be a struggle, with Virgil's confidence fluctuating. But Thomas would never stop showing him how amazing and beautiful he was.

Thomas shook off those thoughts and gave a wave to Remy, the shop's owner. Thomas looked at the menu vaguely even though him and Virgil always got the same thing.

"Girl, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

Thomas shrugged and gestured out to his car. "Virgil got beat up by some assholes so I'm taking him to get ice cream as a treat."

Remy crossed his arms and smirked, "Mmmhmmm. So where is my favorite customer?"

Thomas gave a pretend shocked gasp, "I've been coming here as long as Virgil has."

"Like I said he's my favorite customer.", Remy grabbed two styrofoam bowls, "The usual for both of you?"

Thomas snorted and nodded, "Yep. He fell asleep in the car and I didn't want to wake him. So just me today.", Remy nodded and began making Thomas' birthday cake sundae and Virgil's chocolate brownie s'more sundae.

"Well because this is comfort ice cream I'm giving you each an extra scoop. And it's on the house." Thomas went to object but Remy cut him off, "Hun, last time you were here you tipped twenty bucks. And the time before that you tipped ten. You've got some free ice cream points saved up. Enjoy it."

Thomas sighed and put his wallet away before smiling, "Thank you. I figured this would be a good way to cheer him up. Worst part was he was feeling confident today too. I was so excited for him."

Remy grimaced and went to roast two marshmallows for the ice cream in question, "That's how life is sometimes. You're feeling great and it kicks you where it hurts. But you just gotta be there for him now and hope his confidence stays up. And if not, be a confidence booster.", He finished off the sundaes with some hot fudge and caramel on Virgil's and rainbow sprinkles and cake crumbles on Thomas', topping both with whipped cream.

Thomas nodded and took the ice cream gratefully, "Thank you. I'm sure Roman will tell you and Emile all the details later tonight.", With that he went back to the car and drove to Virgil's house.

Virgil awoke to Thomas kissing his cheek and saying that they had to get out of the car. He blinked groggily before wincing at the feeling of his bruised eye and got up slowly., "Did you message my parents?", He asked through a yawn.

Thomas nodded and picked up the ice cream containers before answering, "Yep. Remus is working late tonight at the hospital but Janus should be home at 5 and he said he'd get take out. And he wanted to talk about what happened."

Virgil nodded and got out his key before letting them both in. He went to go to the kitchen but was stopped by Thomas who guided him to the living room.

"What are you doing?"

Virgil gestured to his eye., "I'm going to get some ice and painkillers."

Thomas nodded and got up. "I'll do that. You sit and relax.", He was handed a cold styrofoam bowl. "Here's your sundae. I got your usual." Virgil smiled and Thomas headed into the kitchen.

Virgil stared at the sundae on his lap hesitantly. Sure, it sounded great after the day he had, but did he really need it? He was fat enough as is without it. He could still hear those asshole's jeers in the restroom, calling him a whale and laughing when he fell.

Before he could do anything though, Thomas came back and was handing him a water bottle and some painkillers and pressing some ice to his eye. Virgil gladly took several large drinks of water and went back to looking at the ice cream nervously.

"Hey." Virgil looked at Thomas to see him giving him a concerned look. "Whatever those assholes said about you… None of it is true. You're amazing and beautiful and your weight is fine. You deserve some ice cream after the day you've had."

Virgil winced internally. Dammit. He hadn't meant for Thomas to know how he was feeling. But that's just how Thomas was sometimes. He could take one look at Virgil and was able to figure out exactly what was bothering him and made it his mission to make him feel better. "It's just… Sometimes I think I would get so much of the bullying if I was thinner, y'know. And maybe I deserve it, cause I could probably do more to try to lose the weight. Like I could go on another diet-"

"Like when you ended up passing out in gym class because you were malnourished?" Thomas interrupted him. Before Virgil could say anything else Thomas was pulling him onto his lap. He tried to do his best to not put any weight on him but Thomas wasn't having it. Virgil found himself tucked snugly in his boyfriends arms. "Babe you eat healthy and are decently active. And your doctor has said you're healthy even with your weight. I know firsthand that it can be hard to love yourself, but please… Never listen to those assholes. And if you're feeling insecure come to me. I'll always be willing to reassure you."

Virgil was blushing and Thomas kissed each of his full, red cheeks. "Now I think we have some well earned ice cream and feel good movies waiting for us." Virgil nodded and snorted as Thomas put on Hairspray.

He leaned up to kiss his boyfriend and took a bite of ice cream, moaning at the taste. "I love you."

Thomas laughed and kissed Virgil back before grabbing his sundae as well. "I can't tell if you're talking to me of the ice cream but I love you too."

Virgil smiled and hummed along to the opening number and took another bite before speaking. "Both. I love ice cream because it's delicious and I love you because you're easily one of the best things to ever happen to me."

Thomas smiled and took a bite of ice cream and kissing him. Virgil could taste frosting and bits of vanilla cupcake on his lips. By the time they pulled away they were both breathing heavily. Virgil pressed several quick kisses on Thomas' face. And smiled. "I love you. So much."

Thomas only responded by kissing him again with just as much intensity as before. Virgil smiled when Thomas finally pulled away and whispered. "I love you. I… I was going to give this you tonight, I figured that it would be the perfect time. And it still is of course I wanted you to be happier when I did it but… Will you go steady with me?" He held out a silver ring with a purple heart shaped gem.

Virgil looked at him with a mixture of shock and happiness. "Really?"

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck and gave an anxious smile. "Yeah. I know it's old fashioned but I thought it would be cute. I was talking to my grandpa about it and he said that going steady was supposed to be a promise that you wanted to spend forever together even if you weren't married yet. Of course back then people got married right out of high school. But I thought that that meaning was perfect for us. I want to spend forever with you, and obviously neither of us are ready for marriage."

Virgil smiled and nodded rapidly at his boyfriend. "Of course. I'd love to go steady with you." Thomas put the ring on his finger and kissed his hand. "It's beautiful."

Thomas smiled. "I got it down at my cousin's shop. I thought it was perfect for you. And now that I'm seeing it I'm happy to report that I was right."

Virgil smiled and made a mental note to go see Toby this weekend and pick out an equally beautiful ring for Thomas. For now however, he had a boyfriend to snuggle and movies to watch. He pulled Thomas closer and pressed several kisses before burrowing his face in his neck.

By the time Janus, Roman, and Remus all burst in at once, the pair were asleep, the credits to the movie rolling unnoticed.

Tagging:

@forever-forgotten-angel, @anxiety-ismy-name

194 notes · View notes

awedbynature · 4 years

Text

A Christmas Debt

Characters: Loki x Reader

Category: Chaptered Story

Genre: Romance/ Friendship/ Love

Synopsis: The reader renders a great service to Loki unknowingly. Not used to being in anyone's debt, our favourite God of Mischief offers a strange favour in return. Will the reader trust him enough to take up the offer?

Previous Chapters: Chapter One

P. C. Pinterest

A/N: Thor's story, as recounted by Loki in this chapter, is an actual tale recorded in the Norse Mythology.

Also,

There's kind of a gift hidden within the chapter. Click the coloured text below to find out!

______________________Loki_____________________

Chapter Two

'He did what?’

You try to shush Natasha the best you can. She is incredulous at the news. ‘Y/N, this is Loki. He has a million wiles. I don’t want you falling victim to any one of them.’

‘I know,' you sigh. ‘But it is such a tempting offer.’

Nat rolls her eyes. She has never fully trusted Loki, not even after all the missions they have served together. Loki had been vital to some of the crucial operations the Avengers have been to, and most of them have given him their grudging trust. Not her. But that’s how she is.

You take another sip of coffee. It’s almost midnight and most of the others are lounging around, stuffed with cookies and fudges and in most cases some amount of Tony's prized liquor collection. Loki is not there. Probably in his room.

Just as you're taking another sip, savouring the aroma of the richly baked beans, Wanda saunters up to the counter. She is new to all this but looks like she’s enjoying every bit of it. Wanda is closer to you in age than Pepper and Natasha. She is more like a best friend to you than a sister, unlike Nat and Pepper.

She pours herself a cup of coffee and casually throws a hand around your waist, leaning against the counter and taking in the scene before her.

‘I saw Loki go after you,' she frowns. ‘What was that about?’

At your nod, Nat tells her everything.

Her eyes widen at the mention of the offer. ‘Did he really say that?!’

You nod wearily.

Wanda puts down her cup with a decisive thump and turns to you. ‘Well, I, for one, am totally in for it!’

'Really?!’ you can see Nat rolling her eyes again.

‘Of course,' continues Wanda. ‘What’s the harm? You don’t have to worry about your siblings ribbing you at dinner anymore! Isn’t that a huge plus?’

'B-but what if they ask for details? How we met and all?’

‘Then you make up some shit. Tell them you two met on a mission, or something. It’s not like you’ve to lie to them forever. It’s just one day!’

You heave a sigh, torn between taking up and declining the offer. But the prospect of being made the butt of jokes at the dinner table holds less appeal than blatant lying on your part. In the end, Wanda wins. You give a tiny nod of acquiescence.

‘I don’t like the idea,' Nat grumbles.

Wanda huffs, rolling her eyes. ‘She’s going to be fine. Now c’mon and show me what you’re going to wear tomorrow. We need to work on that first.’

You let her drag you off to your room, all the while thinking how best to approach Loki without appearing pathetic and pitiable. It’s just for one evening, you convince yourself. After all what do you have to lose?

***

You should not have listened to Wanda. You should not have let your depressed, lonely heart dictate your decisions. With so many things happening last night, you have hardly had a moment to think if you’d be alright with this entire charade. But now, cooped up in the cab and speeding towards a possible disaster, you feel a familiar dread creeping up your limbs and settling in your stomach. All of a sudden, being the object of pity and mild ridicule seems much more bearable. You give an involuntary shiver.

‘Are you alright?’ Loki casts a concerned glance your way.

'Mmhmmm,' you choke out, hugging your arms and giving them a rub.

Loki arches an eyebrow. ‘Pardon me, Ms Y/SN, but you most definitely do not sound alright.’’

'I'm fine.’

You relapse into silence. The cab has left the city and is speeding down a suburban road now.

Your morose thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a chuckle. You turn to find Loki laughing quietly to himself. Somehow the sight of him being so relaxed and graceful irritates you.

‘Do you find this funny?’

‘No. You just suddenly reminded me of my brother,' he says, passing a hand over his face to wipe away the remnants of his grin. ‘I had that feeling of—what do you Midgardians call it—something that seems to have happened before?’

‘Deja vu?’’

'Yes. It was the only time I had seen him nervous. More nervous than a bride on her wedding day. How fitting since he was actually in a wedding dress.’

What!

He chuckles some more, as an image of his hulking brother in a short wedding dress flashes across your eyes. Despite yourself, you snort, feeling the prick of curiosity.

'Why was he dressed as a—’

‘As a bride?’ He finishes for you. ‘It’s a hilarious story.'

‘It begins with my oaf of a brother having his precious Mjollnir stolen from him. Under mysterious circumstances.’ He winks and folds his hands behind his head.

'This happened when we were barely adults but considered ourselves grown up enough to venture out in search of adventures. One day, Thor woke up and found his hammer gone. Thor being Thor, immediately suspected me. Not that I’m saying I stole it. There was not enough evidence and so he discarded the idea eventually. But his hammer was truly gone and he was feeling helpless without it. Fearing the Allfather's wrath, he came to me for a hasty and discreet solution. I used all in my power to locate the hammer. At last we received news that the king of the ogres had stolen it and was demanding Freyja's hand in marriage as ransom.’’

'Who's Freyja?’

‘She is one like us. A goddess. She was considered the most beautiful among the Aesir for her golden hair and her deportment.’ His eyes take a faraway look, perhaps remembering his childhood friend.

'Anyway. So the ogre king was demanding something absolutely impossible for us to grant, yet the stakes were too high. What do we do? We decided to take the advice of the Gatekeeper of the Realm, wise Heimdall. He thought long and hard and decided that someone should dress up as the bride and go and retrieve the hammer. But none were brave enough to volunteer. So it finally fell on Thor to be the bride. ‘But my beard, and my figure!’ he exclaimed incredulously. Nobody heard him, poor thing. They decked him up in the finest bridal clothes and jewellery and wove flowers into his hair and put a veil over his disgruntled face—beard and all. You would not have found a more reluctant bride in the nine realms, nor a more muscular one. I was to dress as his handmaid, but that was not difficult. I could easily shapeshift into a young maid.’

By now, you are wheezing, clutching at the driver’s seat to keep yourself from toppling over. Loki cocks his head, observing you with eyes dancing with mirth, a smirk playing on his lips. He is definitely enjoying telling the story as much as you are enjoying listening to it.

'What happened next?’

'The ogres were foolish enough to believe us. They led us to the wedding banquet where Thor polished off most of the food without any help. His exuberant eating did raise suspicion and quite a few eyebrows but I managed to quell them before it got out of hand.’

'When their king announced that it was time for the wedding, they brought in Mjollnir and placed it in Thor’s lap. And the rest is history. I can assure you, none of the ogres lived long enough to tell the tale.’

Both of you dissolve into hearty chuckles. Loki heaves a sigh and instantly turns serious, ‘Please don’t tell Thor I told you this story. He’ll have my head in a platter if he finds out.’ There is a twinkle in his eyes but his face has gone back to that expressionless mask that all are used to seeing.

'You have my word,’ you reply, suddenly remembering with whom you’ve been acting chummy.

The scene outside is rapidly changing. Clusters of suburban houses and complexes have given way to long stretches of greenery. Which means you’ll be arriving any moment.

With a jolt, you realise that you had completely forgotten about your anxiety and apprehension. You feel more relaxed now, more yourself. Because of Loki. He was looking out for you. He knew you were nervous and wanted to put you at ease.

For the first time, you look at Loki in a different light. He is very much the roguish, evil, beguiling demigod that once almost destroyed an entire city, but somewhere underneath all the barbs and untruths lies a heart that still cares.

'I'm not sure this is a good idea,' you finally voice your anxiety. ‘What if they find out that this is all a lie, a pretence?’

Loki lazily crosses his legs and regards you with a piercing gaze. ‘Ms Y/Sn, perhaps you’re forgetting whom you are with. I have lied our way out of far more life-threatening situations numerous times. Thor lives because of my lies. This is nothing.’

‘What if they ask how we met and our answers do not match! I’ve watched too any sitcoms to know where that’ll lead.’

‘Then tell them the truth.’

‘Of course not! How am I supposed to tell my family that I met my apparent boyfriend after he was captured and imprisoned for masterminding the destruction of a whole city! They would rather watch me die single.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. ‘Tell them we met during an operation.’

You fiddle with the hem of your dress, not fully convinced. Wanda had insisted on your dressing elegantly, and you had ended up borrowing one of Pepper’s gowns. If anything, it only makes you more nervous. You feel like you’re dressed in borrowed feathers.

‘Don’t fret, alskling,’ he says after some time. ‘The main trick of telling a lie is confidence. People are more likely to believe a bald-faced lie over a stammering truth.’

The cab finally rolls to a stop. Heart in your throat, you look at the familiar house, the neat lawn in front now decked with Christmas decorations, the old whitewashed fence and the ancient sycamore with the tire swing still hanging. Nothing much has changed around here.

‘Allow me,' the soft, crisp words bring you back to the present. You turn to find Loki coming round to your side to hold the door open. His face has taken a softer expression, the perfect look of a man in love and happily so. Slipping in and out of façades comes to him as easily as breathing. No wonder they call him the God of Lies.

He holds out his hand, his lips drawn into a smile. ‘Come, Ms Y/Sn. Let us show them.’

Well, here goes nothing, you take a deep breath, and step out of the cab.

To be continued...

Chapter Three available now

Tags: @lucywrites02 @lilyofthesword @country-cowgirl-101 @benji-booxx @loki-hiddlestoner3024 @outlawangel2020 @thefallenbibliophilequote @idontknowstudios @just-the-hiddles @myraiswack @noturningbacknow @natandersonnla @twhiddlestonsstuff

45 notes · View notes

deeisace · 3 years

Text

Okay so. I have researched the owner of this corset:

At the V&A [here], and here’s their description of it:

This corset was designed and made for the wedding of Mrs G.E. Dixon in July 1905. It is an S-bend corset, typified by the straight busk that compelled the pelvis backwards and the bust forwards into an angled ‘S’ shape. The corset offered some light control around the lower abdomen with strategically placed whalebones; however, since corsets rely on boning and strong fabrics for rigidity, the insertion of Mechlin-style machine lace and fine silk satin between the bones show that its function is largely decorative. The neckline is high, and the entire bust area is made of transparent lace decorated with silk flowers. At the bottom of the corset are four long suspender ribbons, attached with small gathered silk rosettes.

The object history: “Made for and worn by the donor, Marie Dixon, for her wedding, July 1905.”

So, we know her name is Marie, and she married someone called G. E. Dixon in 1905! It was made in the UK so let’s presume they lived in the UK, right?

And we know, July 1905. That brings us here -

George Edwin Dixon and Marie Katherine Harriett Bokenham were married on July 19th 1905, in Hanwell, Middlesex. She was 21 and a spinster (not previously married), and he was 42, twice her age and a widower.

Both their fathers were listed as gentlemen - Mr Bokenham was a civil engineer born in Peru in about 1856, who was mostly listed as “living on own means”, i.e., very rich, and Mr Dixon - well. I can’t find him. We know he ought to be Canadian, by G.E.’s 1911 census, but as I can search (that’s UK, USA and Canada, really), I can’t find a George/Geo./Edwin/G. E. Dixon/Dickson/Dickinson etc born to a a man of the same name within ten years of George’s reported birth who might reasonably be described a “gentleman”. There were several farmers in Canada, tho. And a shoemaker. So, I’m thinking, George here lied and bigged himself up a bit for his new wife’s family - given they were reasonably well-off, and to make the age difference a little more palatable, perhaps.

George is listed as a “Doctor of Medicine”, which is also shown on the 1911 census

Here, it’s shown that they’ve been married 5 years, which we know, and that they are now 47 and 26, so nobody fudged facts (or at least dates, anyway) on the marriage record, which is always good to see. George is now the director of a company making “capsuloids for the hair: antitoxine. cicfa”. A bit less fancy, maybe, than “doctor of medicine”, which lends itself to my theory.

More new information is that though they only have two rooms (we count the kitchen as a room, but not the scullery, landing, lobby, closet or bathroom, according to the little box for writing that information in), they do live in Hyde Park, at 20 Cambridge Street (what is now Cambridge Place, I assume after the bombing in the Blitz). They share with their landlady, a Mrs Jessie Craig from Glasgow, who has 9 rooms (and 2 sons and a live-in domestic servant called Lily Ford), and a retired navy lieutenant (”Lieut R N Retired”) by the name of Guy Renton Livingstone, who is Irish and the secretary of a golf school (that’s a thing?) and occupies one room.

A large house, tho the Dixons only have a small part of it.

I do imagine somewhat, though, that this maybe isn’t quite what Marie had in mind when she married a doctor - but you never know, perhaps they were in love or something, I can’t go back in time to ask them, and maybe I’m being far too cynical.

What I have found, though, is they went to America!

From their “arriving passenger” records, I have a description of them, their address in America, their address in England, George’s occupation, and how long they intended to stay.

So, in 1921, George was 58 years old, 5ft half an inch, with a fresh complexion, grey hair and blue eyes, and was a chemist. He is also listed as having visited the US in 1892.

Marie was 38, 5ft 5, with a fresh complexion, brown hair and brown eyes.

They lived in Marlow, Bucks, in the UK, but they intended to stay permanently in the USA - their American address as listed was 14 East 50th Street New York, tho I don’t know much at all about New York as to tell you about that, tbh, but I do know from Google Maps, it’s just near Madison Ave and 5th Ave, which to me sounds very fancy.

Above the “permanent”, in pencil, there’s a note that says “2 mo.”, and they did not intend to become citizens.

I’m not sure if they did only stay their intended 2 months, or what happened, but the next record I have is that they return to England in April 1928, 1st class to Bristol. The “incoming passenger” list gives much less information, but I know that George is still the director of a company, and they are going to live at Cedar Cottage in Marlow.

Here it is!

George dies, unfortunately, in September that same year - maybe they returned to England as he was sick, I don’t know. His effects were over £30k, which is over £1.3 million today.

From the accession number on the corset, I think this is when Marie donated her wedding corset to the V&A.

Marie, however, didn’t much hang around, shall we say.

She went to India, and married a man called Richard Valentine Read on 6th December 1929, the very same year she was widowed.

I haven’t a description of Richard, because I can’t access his war records properly, but I know his middle name was Valentine because he was born on Valentine’s Day in 1892 - he was four years younger than Marie. His father was a member of the London Stock Exchange, and Richard was a colonel in the British military (I know he had shore leave in Puerto Rico in 1939) - in 1925, leaving Liverpool on a round cruise to Lisbon and the Canary Islands, he’s listed as “Capt R V Read, DSO MC” which denotes him as someone of Distinguished Service who earned the Military Cross.

They went to America in early 1933 - to Santa Barbara, California, this time, to visit a Mrs Carrington for a week, at Villa Riposte.

Aha, here we have a description of them both. Marie is 5ft6, now with grey hair and brown eyes, at 47 years old. Richard is 6ft4, with grey hair and blue eyes, at 41 years old. Their last address is in “Kawalpiudi”, India - I rather think that’s a terrible spelling of Rawalpindi, which is now Pakistan - but their American visas were issued in London.

Oh, their incoming New York papers have more description info.

Marie is “sallow” with brown hair and brown eyes, and Richard is “fair” with light brown hair and grey eyes, a tattoo on his right forearm and a war scar on his right shoulder.

I wonder at the difference in their descriptions between December 1932 (New York) and January 1933 (Los Angeles), but there’s no solving that I spose. It’ll just be the different people who took their details down.

They were quite jetsetters actually - I assume, in some way it was with Richard’s job, since he’s listed once as an attaché - they went to Genoa in February 1935, Yokohama in August 1936, New York in 1938 - though Richard went alone to Marseilles in 1935, and to Palestine in 1937.

I can’t find any record following these, or of Marie’s death - there are too many Marie Read’s about, and she might’ve been recorded as Mary, as well, so I can’t narrow it down, and there’s nothing I can find in the British papers - I do know that Richard remarried in 1953, though, and died at sea in 1964. He lived in Fredonia NY, and left £6000 to his wife Joyce.

So! I haven’t quite the whole story, I don’t think, but a lot of it at least, which is something!

It’s a shame I couldn’t find photos or anything, but I found quite a bit I reckon.

#either way marie had fancy clothes #and very sexy (for 1905) wedding night lingerie!#corset #corsetry #lingerie #history #research

15 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- WILL AND WON’T

Sirius took the book from James and idled a bit before starting. Torn between wanting to get back to Harry already and yet not wanting to just as much, for they'd find nothing more but depression if the way he was acting now was anything to go by. Yet all these extras just kept delaying it more than anything. Finally he took a deep breath and just jumped in, the dragging silence was worse than anything.

Harry Potter was snoring loudly.

Then Sirius comically snorted, grinningly lovingly at his godson who was blushing just slightly, but finally. Just being back to chatting about him for even one second had them all smiling at something again!

He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open.

"I hope that was a very fascinating cat," James chuckled.

"Oh, that wasn't what I was watching," Harry corrected, the smile slipping away at once into an uneasy frown. His headmaster hadn't left a very good impression on his family because of his last year, and he wasn't looking forward to their reaction of him showing up again so soon. So for now he feigned ignorance of anything else just for a few more seconds of peace.

The misty fog his breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange glare of the streetlamp outside, and the artificial light drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly beneath his shock of untidy black hair.

Lily made a noise of distaste for that description, she'd had far to many details already of how that could have come true.

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on his desk.

"I mean, you can't even really blame him," Sirius smirked at Lily's eye roll. "He's had people cleaning up after him all his life."

"The exact excuse he uses to never clean up his mess at home," Remus tragically bemoaned, waving him quickly on before he could go into a detailed account about how it wasn't really a mess until you couldn't see the floor anymore.

The headline of one blared:

HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?

Sirius' face flipped to agitation at once. Harry had more than enough press in his life, so of course he just had to mock what was clearly making his pup uncomfortable. "Yes, because the Boy Who Lived wasn't memorable enough! Let's brand him with another title!"

"I'm surprised they didn't call it the Boy Who Lived to be the Chosen One." Remus quietly snarked.

"That's a mouthful even for them." James heard anyways and poked them along.

Lily sighed heavily, but tried her best to get them to keep going. If they were already going to be like this just over the title of the article, they were going to be here for awhile.

Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.

"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.

Harry shivered heavily for just the name of that place again, honestly still wishing he could go back and erase the whole place from his mind all over again. For a moment his only solace was the reassurance he tried to grasp at least he'd never have to go in there again.

Then Sirius gave him a comforting nudge and refused to let his own voice crack, and Harry had to come back to here and remember he did have more to take comfort in. So he put on a smile again and insisted waving Sirius on like he really was getting over it so easily.

The others didn't buy it, but could no more force Harry to admit that than let him harm himself remembering anything before he should.

Though Ministry spokes wizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question.

Harry grumbled a bit about how he wished they'd been smart enough to piece this all together a year ago, while Sirius just scoffed but pointed out, "only makes them seem stupider the longer they take to catch up to us."

"And I didn't think it was possible for them to be going any slower before all this," James agreed.

Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"That is quite a leap," Lily snapped.

"A true one," Harry reminded in a less biting tone. He regretted the words the moment they came out, tensing and avoiding all eyes, not wanting to go anywhere near that conversation again. To his relief they didn't force him to, his parents just brushed him reassuringly while waving Sirius on.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. page2, column 5)

A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore the headline:

SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE

"Why on earth was the first part of this necessary if we're getting all of this information again anyways?" Remus groused.

"Since when do you complain about learning more," Sirius demanded.

"When you're the one giving it," Remus snipped back.

"Oh well then be my guest," Sirius mocked, trying to pass the book to him, but Remus smacked him instead.

Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lionlike mane of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving â€" the man was waving at the ceiling.

Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office.

"Can't be any worse than what Fudge was going through," James said blandly.

Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)

Sirius made a face at that particular bit being cut off, so supplied himself, "known to cause misery and hope all at the same time, truly a gift of a man we've never had before-"

He ducked this time and used the book as a shield as Moony made to smack him again, then pouted at his grumpy friend who'd been refusing to play along all day. Prongs was being of no more help and he was going to have an aneurysm if he couldn't get some proper laughing in before lunch!

To the left of this paper sat another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title ministry guarantees students' safety was visible.

Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this autumn.

James mock yawned and even Lily couldn't pretend much enthusiasm for this. They'd never feared the safety of their school before they found out what all Harry went through, and didn't have much hope this Scrimgeour would clear it up any better than Dumbledore's lack-less attempts.

"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School.

"Well the Aurors are new," Sirius pointed out happily, wondering if at least Harry would get a treat out of that. He hadn't mentioned it for a while, but as far as they knew he still wanted to be one.

"Though I'm blasted what enchantments they think they've added that haven't already been inlaid in the school already," Remus rolled his eyes.

Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, 'My grandson, Neville' a good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the Death Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and-

Sirius was as glad as anyone that had been cut off. He adored Neville and now respected him as highly as he would with Ron and Hermione for all he'd done, but that coming from Augusta, especially after the way she'd spoken back in St. Mungo's, felt more like bragging than the praise he deserved for those feats.

Not to mention the increasing amount of times this had been mentioned already still made Harry look likely to be sick again any moment. They hadn't expected it to never be spoken of again, but clearly repetition wasn't helping Harry to move past that memory.

But the rest of this story was obscured by the large birdcage standing on top of it. Inside it was a magnificent snowy owl. Her amber eyes surveyed the room imperiously, her head swiveling occasionally to gaze at her snoring master. Once or twice she clicked her beak impatiently, but Harry was too deeply asleep to hear her.

A large trunk stood in the very middle of the room. Its lid was open; it looked expectant; yet it was almost empty but for a residue of old underwear, sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the very bottom. Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words:

-ISSUED ON BEHALF OF-

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

"I wonder if those were kept in storage all these years or something," James sighed heavily. His infant enjoyed gumming on the bright pamphlet now, and it had been quite something his elder counterpart had never had to be anywhere nearer to it. Now that was as gone as surely as all his baby teeth.

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

1. You are advised not to leave the house alone.

2. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible,

arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen.

3. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition.

Harry frowned uneasily at this one like he had all those summers ago. Now with someone to ask, he glanced at his mum, but his mind was on another. "Are Muggle-borns allowed to use magic to put those up then?"

Lily hesitated too long in answering, which was answer enough before she tried to explain, "yes and no. We were still told not to use magic, but if we contacted the Ministry they would come over and place some up if requested. My parents allowed it, but I know some who never invested in the idea and...paid for it." She finished softly.

Harry tensed uneasily as he glanced out the window. He'd never felt safe at the Dursleys, but that was for a wholly other reason than his inability to do magic there. It occurred to him for the first time though, if Hermione had been attacked while she was at home, her parents were defenseless. What must that feel like, to be the sole person, the child having to protect your parents? It scared him to think about, but could come up with no honest solution either, you couldn't force the parents to just accept someone coming into their life from another world even if your child was in it, all in the name of a protection they didn't even understand.

4. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2).

5. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4).

6. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.

7. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY.

Harry heard this in the same detached way he had read it the first time in the Dursleys house. While all straight forward advice, he couldn't feel any real fear, or safety, or whatever that pamphlet was suppose to impress upon him. With no one in his life at the time and only a bitter reminder of something he no longer had an option for in a secure home, he'd cast it aside after only briefly scanning the information.

In here felt no better, only a bitter reminder of something he hadn't even been able to dream about at the time.

Lily watched his mood continue to spiral down, and clinging to anything to keep his mind in here she asked, "Harry, whose nickname did you hear first?"

Distracted by the odd question, he looked over at her but easily cast his mind back to the first conversation he'd heard with the four of them. "Er, Padfoot. Him and Remus were snipping while you two were talking to me." It worked at once, he smiled again. At the time the soft brush of warmth for hearing those names, seeing these faces and voices again had all been far too muddled with everything else going on. Now he could look back on that moment with a clarity he never would have believed possible.

"Works as well as any other security question we could ask," James chuckled for his wife. He knew she was doing it to keep him involved in the here and now, but it was rather a mute point considering they couldn't leave the premises for the time being.

"What about yours?" Harry asked curiously.

"We each have one for each other," Lily began happily, though Sirius cut her off in mock outrage-

"It would defeat the point of sharing them though!"

Lily rolled her eyes while Sirius grinned at Harry who was laughing just a bit at his godfathers antics again. He honestly would have told Harry if he'd asked again, but now he was waiting patiently for Sirius to keep going so he knew he could bring this up later.

Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch or so, making his glasses still more lopsided, but he did not wake up. An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on the sill, showing one minute to eleven. Beside it, held in place by Harry's relaxed hand, was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often since its arrival three days ago that although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat.

Dear Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.

Sirius scrutinized that, thought again about the description of the handwriting, and said in a flat, cold voice, "Dumbledore eh?"

Harry uneasily nodded his agreement, tense and waiting now for a new row of insults to come the headmasters way. With everything else that had gone on that night, Harry just had not been able to hold onto the same anger of blaming what had happened to Sirius on anyone but him. He knew they disagreed, they blamed the leader of the Order as much as Snape for trying to insist Sirius stay shut up, for not telling everything to him and Harry in the first place.

To his immense relief though, Sirius kept going without further comment. Whatever they were chewing on in regards to this, there was just no point shooting it at anyone in here, when their real target was still at Hogwarts and waiting for all of this to finish.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

"Sounds, fun," James struggled to say with some lightheartedness. He'd admit he was curious what Dumbledore was up to, but already this wasn't starting off well. Dumbledore was clearly using Harry for something. Again.

"Hey, he's actually the one escorting you out of that place though!" Sirius did say cheerfully. "I think some good finally came of something, and he's not trying to keep you there all summer!"

"For once," Lily grumbled. It had taken the man six years what the Weasleys had done for him in his second, but she supposed she'd have to take what she could get here.

Though he already knew it by heart, Harry had been stealing glances at this message every few minutes since seven o'clock that evening, when he had first taken up his position beside his bedroom window, which had a reasonable view of both ends of Privet Drive. He knew it was pointless to keep rereading Dumbledore's words; Harry had sent back his "yes" with the delivering owl, as requested, and all he could do now was wait: Either Dumbledore was going to come, or he was not.

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't," Remus muttered, "it's not as if he's disappointed him lately or anything."

Sirius gave him a sideways look for that, but remarkably held his tongue and instead kept himself going rather than forcing Moony to address that right now.

But Harry had not packed. It just seemed too good to be true that he was going to be rescued from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company.

"Miracles happen," Lily drawled.

"No, no, the miracle would be if he hadn't had to go back at all," Sirius happily corrected.

"I take what I can get," she snapped.

He could not shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong, his reply to Dumbledore's letter might have gone astray; Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or trap.

"I like that you listed trap last," James nodded, "obviously it's the least concerning option."

"Technically a trick and a joke are the same thing, so it was only fifty fifty," Sirius said fairly.

"Don't be so crude Padfoot," James wagged his finger at him. "Undermining the intricacies between a prank, a ploy, a ruse-"

"Keep going, or he will for an hour," Remus grumbled while Harry and Lily watched with honest fascination to see how long he could go.

Sirius took their distraction to hiss at him, "if you don't lighten up I'm going to use Lumos Maximus on what little of your brain is left."

Remus just raised a brow, unimpressed, while Sirius let Prongs keep going until he started making up words just to prove his point.

Harry had not been able to face packing and then being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a journey was to shut his snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her cage.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at that precise moment, the street-lamp outside the window went out.

"The magic of timing," Lily giggled. Didn't need to worry about traffic when you could apparate.

Harry awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Hastily straightening his glasses and unsticking his cheek from the glass, he pressed his nose against the window instead and squinted down at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path.

Harry jumped up as though he had received an electric shock, knocked over his chair, and started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunk. Even as he lobbed a set of robes, two spellbooks, and a packet of crisps across the room,

"Can't forget the snack for the road!" Sirius laughed outright.

"Sirius, you're just describing the way you pack, so I don't know what you find so funny," James snickered along as well.

"I can admit to my flaws, if I had any. This is much faster than whatever that nonsense folding is," Sirius stated with his nose in the air.

the doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room his Uncle Vernon shouted is surprise who would be here this time of night.

"Darn, and here I was hoping the hour would have them in bed," Lily grumbled.

No one disagreed with her. It was finally happening, someone even closer to Harry than Mr. Weasley was on the premises, could give these Dursleys a piece of their mind...and the stale taste in their mouth it was anyone but Sirius would linger until they got out.

Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other. He had completely forgotten to warn the Dursleys that Dumbledore might be coming.

Remus couldn't help an involuntary snort at that. This could be more than they'd initially thought for this reaction alone. Lets see Vernon try to stand his ground against Dumbledore. The only person this could be funnier for was Voldemort himself, and that led to far more complications than payback, so this was honestly the better option.

Feeling both panicky and close to laughter,

"A feeling I wish you'd have more," James sighed, that was perfectly reminiscent of how it felt to pull off a prank.

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible.

Harry flinched, though not for the reminder of that. He just hated watching the expressions it caused in those around him, that terrifying murderous look as they recalled why exactly this was. He still wished they'd never found out about that, but instead he forced himself not to rub at his neck and just told, "to be fair, most any person learns that after the first five seconds."

The joke gave Sirius a surprised snicker at least, though his voice was no less venomously laced as he kept going.

There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half- moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. Vernon Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as Dumbledore's, though black, and who was wearing a puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitor as though he could not believe his tiny eyes.

"It is a sight to behold," James grudgingly tried for a laugh at these circumstances.

Then Dumbledore judged by his look of stunned disbelief Harry had not in fact warned of this, but he assumed he was graciously invited inside anyways. It was unwise to linger on doorsteps in these troubled times.

"Or just rude, but take your pick," Lily sniffed.

Dumbledore stepped inside and Vernon still seemed to thunderstruck to react, even when Dumbledore spoke of his long absence from here, but mentioned the agapanthus were flourishing.

"Of all the things to notice while dumping a child on a front porch, the flowers would stick out!" Sirius harshly snapped, making even himself wince for a comment no one needed reminding of.

Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech would return to him, and soon, the vein pulsing in his uncles temple was reaching danger point, but something about Dumbledore seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath.

"If it were permanent I may even start to like him again," Remus grumbled.

It might have been the blatant wizardishness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been that even Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom it would be very difficult to bully.

"I'd say a combination of both, but that implies far more sense than those three could put together," Lily snipped.

Then Dumbledore caught sight of Harry and greeted him with an excellent.

These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, any man who could look at Harry and say "excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to eye.

"Considering he can't see eye to eye with anything more than the deranged female version of himself he calls a sister, this isn't surprising," James agreed.

He began he didn't mean to be rude, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.

"And he even blatantly contradicts himself, again." Sirius huffed, wishing he'd kept a tally of how many times he'd done so, but at this point it would be redundant, he didn't need more reason to hate this idiot.

Dumbledore finished for him that rudeness often occurred even by accident, and it was best not to say anything.

Sirius couldn't help it this time and full out laughed. He knew his friends resented Dumbledore for the way he'd treated Harry, and himself, last year, but even while being an arrogant old man he'd done something only Moody had previously done, shut up Vernon!

The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces.

Her rather horsey face registered nothing but shock.

Dumbledore introduced himself when Vernon failed to.

"He didn't introduce himself to Vernon," James pointed out with mischief finally lighting his eyes again. He couldn't believe Dumbledore and the Dursleys were causing it, but he always had tried to find fun in the bleakest of places. "He'd just stepped over the doorway and told Vernon to shut his trap, not that I'm arguing the point."

While reminding they had corresponded. Harry thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term.

"I'm honestly still blasted at that," Lily said harshly. Of the many things wrong with Harry's fifth year, that was at least in the top five.

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door. His large, blond head rising out of the stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied, his mouth gaping in astonishment. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

He presumed he was invited into their sitting room.

"No," James said flatly, honestly he wouldn't be doing any such thing to Dumbledore right now. He had far to many things needing to be shouted for a place like his living room.

Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore passed him. Harry, still clutching the telescope and trainers,

"A conversation starter at least," Sirius' smile grew as he did wonder why Dumbledore was choosing to linger and make a show of this.

jumped the last few stairs and followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair nearest the fire and was taking in the surroundings with an expression of benign interest. He looked quite extraordinarily out of place.

Harry asked weren't they leaving?

Dumbledore agreed that was soon on the agenda, but they needed to attend to something first best not done in the open. So they were too trespass on his aunt and uncles hospitality just a little longer.

"Catch up with the Order?" Lily demanded, this being the only thing they could think of, and not at all missing the fact that if this were true, something had come of last year if Dumbledore was really, finally, going to be so open with him. They wouldn't deny they'd prefer it to be done anywhere but there, but they'd take what they could get right now.

Vernon demanded he would, would he?

Dumbledore simply said yes, he shall.

Remus still couldn't help making an agitated face no matter how much he tried to hide it, refusing to admit what he'd been thinking even as the thought lingered in his head. 'A man after my own heart.'

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

Sirius read all of this with an increasing smile, he wasn't going to deny anymore he was starting to enjoy this. Watching the Dursleys be flicked around their own house, and Harry wasn't even going to get in trouble for it! The Ministry would have been informed of this going on by Dumbledore himself most likely. His only thought now was how far could they go with this.

As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that his hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

Sirius at once felt his nose crinkle up in disgust, but it did nothing to hide the flash of concern. It sounded impossible in his head Dumbledore would get anything resembling an injury, let alone one that would leave some kind of mark.

He looked around in concern when Harry started muttering to himself, never a good sign.

James had already noticed and was already babbling at top speed about how even wizards didn't have a magical cure for everything, though he was confident it wasn't anything the man couldn't shake off. Even while holding a flare of hate for the man, he seemed able to push that aside instantly to help his son with the worry for that same person. Harry in no way looked convinced, but smiled anyways for the attempt even if his eyes lingered with that fear.

Harry tried to ask what had happened to his hand, but Dumbledore simply said he'd explain later.

"Oh, well apparently we still haven't quite gotten over that nasty habit of not explaining everything," James snapped.

Lily sighed, not arguing the point aloud, but thought her husband was just looking to pick a fight now. Not every aspect of Dumbledore's life, such as injuries, were of their concern.

He instead turned back to Vernon and told evidence suggested refreshments coming would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.

"Evidence used to suggest honesty was your strongest point, but that was foolish as well," Remus muttered.

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room. He told this was Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead, while Harry took a sip.

Lily made a little face at her son drinking, though sixteen wasn't an unreasonable age, for a moment she almost wished her biggest concern was her child acting like a teenager and slipping into the liquor cabinet from time to time.

He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely.

"As you well should, Rosmerta can make a man go broke buying that from her," Sirius grinned.

"Trust him, he's tried," Remus rolled his eyes.

"You certainly don't try to stop me," Sirius challenged, his eyes gleaming at finally getting a normal response from Moony.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did, considering how often I nick a glass," he shrugged without remorse.

"Aha! You admit it!" Sirius cheered with triumph.

"I never denied it, you just never asked," Remus huffed. Sirius frowned at him now, his moment of fun clearly having passed as quickly as it had come for Remus was refusing to play along anymore, so Sirius kept going with his own little huffs.

The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads.

At least that got a collective snort of laughter, all of them having imagined hitting them upside the head with something far heavier than a drink, but it was a start.

Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself.

"At least someone is," Sirius said good-naturedly.

Finally Dumbledore turn to Harry and explained the Order had located Sirius' will this past week, and its contents were relatively simple, he'd left everything to his godson.

Then Sirius felt like his throat had been clogged shut and he couldn't remember how to breathe for it. This was the opposite of what he was going for, more depressing reminders! Even he couldn't find a way to put a spin on this to make it in any way funny!

Then what he'd said really ran through his head, and he did release a childishly rude giggle.

Lily quickly brushed her hair out of her face, cleared her throat loudly while she shifted next to James, purposely brushing against him to keep his attention while snipping at him, "just what was so funny about that?"

"My inheritance, my mums precious Black house and heirlooms, all going to a halfblood. The only thing to make it better would be giving it all to Moony, or you Lils."

Lily rolled her eyes even as she'd expected the answer, while Harry shook his stinging eyes and forced them to focus back in confusion of that. Why hadn't anything been left to Remus? Then he really considered this, and recalled some earlier statements from them how Remus wasn't even supposed to be here right now, nor allowed to adopt Harry, or any child. Was it really possible werewolves were so forced outside their own laws they weren't even allowed such a thing as possessions left by the dead? After all he'd heard, Harry believed it.

James still couldn't bring himself to join in this, he couldn't look at Sirius or anyone or he'd break down again for this future hanging over his brothers life. Not to mention Dumbledore nor anyone had ever said what became of his things. The vault of gold Harry had now was not the only thing in the Potters line, was it really too much to ask who now owned his parents house? This one? Aside from the cloak, Harry still had more from Sirius than him, and even when they were in the same boat now, or well, afterlife, Sirius was still managing to give more to him.

Sirius didn't press the issue onto anyone else, but he certainly hoped Harry got to the Weasleys soon now, or even another cutaway chapter to anyone else who wouldn't mention him for once!

This should leave matters straightforward. A reasonable amount of gold had been added to his vault, as well as all of Sirius' possessions should fall to Harry-

Vernon interrupted to demand his godfather was dead?

"Timing," Lily snarled in disgust at anyone so blatantly stating this, as if it hadn't been done enough already today. She didn't know how Sirius had managed to say that with a straight face, she and James had only gotten through it on constricted confidence it wasn't yet true. He tried to brush right past it like he did all things Vermin, related...or Vernon, same thing.

Dumbledore answered a simple yes.

"I would have given him a one word answer as well, but it wouldn't have been that," James snapped.

"Don't be daft Prongs, the only single word you ever use is for a spell, and even then you flourish those for show," Sirius happily corrected.

James made a face at him and actually looked to give a colorful response back, just for the simple bliss he still could and would hold onto that as long as possible, before Remus snapped, "I'm surprised you two never read a dictionary for all the words you use, but we don't need to hear every one of them now!"

James made an annoyed, slightly confused face at him as if just noticing for the first time what a mood Moony was really in, but Sirius had no want to test it right now when he still had to get back to something so unpleasant so kept going anyways.

He did not ask Harry why he had not confided in the Dursleys.

Lily stopped eyeing Remus and went back to the despicable and never ending thoughts for these circumstances going on. Dumbledore himself had admitted last year how aware he was of the situation going on there and still they got more evidence how little he cared!

Then continued as if uninterrupted this should also mean Harry was in possession of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The problem was-

"That is indeed a problem," Sirius couldn't help making his own disgruntled face at that. "I never wanted Harry stepping back into that place even while I was in it, now I don't want to even think of him being on the same block as it!"

Harry tensed and shifted with unease for this particular comment. Everything in him wanted to agree with Sirius, but at the same time the words wouldn't come out. He never wanted to be near that place again, but the idea saddened him the same as if he was never allowed in this home again. Home...such a strange word choice, he just couldn't imagine it ever applying to such a grim house, and was sure it was simply his mind slipping up with something else.

Again he was interrupted by Vernon greedily demanding he'd been left a house?

"Actually, I take it back," Sirius said at once, his eyes narrowing maliciously. "If giving it to Harry in any way leads to Vernon stepping in and never stepping back out, I'll arrange this myself-" he stopped with a hiss of pain and glared at Moony.

"Do I need to point out why that was in poor taste," he hissed for his ear while the other three winced and pretended like they hadn't heard him anyways.

"Is this what's got you so round the bind? I'm not going to stop saying whatever I please thank you."

When Remus just made a face and turned away muttering about nonsense, Sirius realized he hadn't guessed right and kept going without almost anyone noticing for a moment, which was lucky with the next few lines.

This time he was ignored, and Harry supplied they could keep using it as headquarters, he never wanted back in that place again where Sirius had once prowled, so desperate to escape.

Dumbledore thanked him for the generosity, but explained they had temporarily vacated the premises.

"Of course the only good that place has ever got would be taken away," he muttered purely for himself.

Harry asked why, both of them ignoring the Dursleys predicament of the glasses now rapping the Dursleys over the head and sloshing the drink everywhere.

That got a surprised snicker out of everyone, leaving at least Sirius pleased one thing could still make them smile during all this constant black depression.

As Sirius was the last, than tradition would instead have it go to the next available pureblood in the line.

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry's mind.

"I'm almost saddened he knows the place so well," James said in disgust.

He agreed that didn't surprise him, and Dumbledore supplied this meant Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Would be a touch more fitting than it ever was on me," Sirius shrugged without any real care.

"The only thing she should have is a cell, not anything you once did." Harry snapped at once.

Sirius eyed him but chose not to argue the point, thinking he was far too worked up about it.

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet; the telescope and trainers in his lap rolled across the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's killer, inherit his house?

Dumbledore agreed it would not be helpful to the Orders cause, but there was a very simple test to now know who it truly was in ownership.

Sirius paused to scratch at his ear, but he couldn't really think of one. He supposed there was some blood magic to be worked, he vaguely recalled something of the like going on with house-elf ownership and quarrels about that in the past of who it should go to when the eldest chose otherwise. However, the very idea of Harry drawing blood for anything only reminded him of more pink, and far from it being worth that waste of space, he skipped on and hoped Dumbledore literally meant the word simple, for once.

Before he could explain, Vernon interrupted again to get these off!

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"That, is the best mental imagery, I've heard all day." James declared at once.

"Wasn't much contest," Remus rolled his eyes.

The other four gave a lighthearted laugh in agreement anyways, it just wasn't as satisfying as Sirius arriving and cursing them all where they sat, or even Dumbledore doing more than sloshing some drink on them with cups.

Dumbledore did indeed vanish them after pointing out it would have been better manners to drink it.

Lily shook her head, politely incredulous at Dumbledore's incredulous politeness.

It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of unpleasant retorts, but he merely shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy eyes on Dumbledore's wand.

Then he turned back and flicked his wand for a fifth time.

"Why is it keeping count?" James randomly muttered.

"For the Dursleys benefit I'm sure," Harry gave a slight smile, knowing he'd seen them flinch uneasily every time.

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags.

Sirius' face drained of blood, while his mind consumed with a shocking amount of hatred he thought he could only feel for a rat. It seemed to extend to the thing that got him killed as well. The others may blame Dumbledore holding information over Harry's head leading to it, but Sirius couldn't forget the kicker, or what he'd like to be kicking! That no good, infested vermin who'd done everything his whole life to treat him as if he were lower than the filth cleaning their floors!

"Sirius?" Remus spoke softly, the first time this morning he'd really come back to himself as he leaned towards him in concern, grabbing for his shoulder, but Sirius shook it off just as quickly. He no more wanted to linger on that wretch than he did the veil, none of it mattered, least of all the soon to be headless elf.

Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with them raised almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up his pajama trousers, and Vernon bellowed what was that?

The twisted expression upon his godfathers face could never be described as a smile, but the pleasure was certainly there Kreacher was getting some use in scaring the Dursleys for a moment at least.

Dumbledore pointed out if Harry owned the house, than he also owned Kreacher.

Kreacher was clearly none to happy about this, stamping his feet, and shouting he won't, won't, won't, go into the Potter brats care! He wanted his new mistress! He wanted miss Bellatrix!

Lily had half a mind to get up herself and smack Sirius for the tone he was using. She still wished he'd understand he'd never helped the situation by showing nothing but cruelty to his elf, but it would do no more good than blame the way Snape treated Harry on his godfather. The elf was his own actions and was as responsible for them as the Potions teacher was for abusing his students. She like the others wished more than anything Sirius would release the elf now and avoid all future problems with this.

Harry at once protested he didn't want him!

Harry rubbed painfully at his ear, Sirius shouting that with increasing volume was starting to hurt, so he shot a question that occurred to him instead. "How was Dumbledore keeping him away? If Elf's have their own magic and can apparate, or I assume disapparate from wherever they want."

"Oh there are still ways of blocking them," Sirius viciously explained, and Harry instantly regretted asking as it only seemed to fuel his desire to be stamping on the elves head right now. "Magical blockers, outsmarting the little blighter which isn't hard, Merlin just knocking him unconscious or poisoning him or-"

"Alright Sirius," Lily snapped, "I don't need to hear the entire list!"

He scowled at her but kept going simply because he actually didn't want to linger on all the things he'd considered doing in his past which were suddenly a far more real threat to that things life.

Dumbledore reminded to turn him away would send him to Bellatrix just as fast, with the knowledge of all the Order.

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, was repugnant.

"Responsibility isn't the right word," James snapped. "Just tell him not to set foot outside that place again until his dying day, which hopefully will come soon enough anyways! Problem solved, you never have to see the scum again."

Dumbledore prompted Harry to give him an order, and if he complied, than the matter was settled. If not, they'd have to find other methods to keep him from his new and rightful mistress.

Through all of this Kreacher's shoutings had only gotten louder, so Harry said the only thing that came to mind, shut up!

Sirius' satisfied little smirk was the closest thing he was going to get to congratulating Harry for that right now, he certainly wouldn't have been so kind with this test.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, we can no longer say Sirius doesn't think ahead," Remus tried in vain for a joking tone even if his face was too pale to pull it off.

Sirius did give him a real smile for the attempt anyways even as he mock pouted for the jab.

Cheerful now, Dumbledore said that settled it all.

Harry asked if he had to keep him with him?

"Malfoy didn't keep Dobby on his heels," Sirius rolled his eyes for Harry's random question.

"I certainly didn't want him at the Dursleys place, as if I needed another reason to loath it," Harry reminded, thinking more along the lines Kreacher would have to relocate to wherever he called home, no matter how loosely.

Sirius nodded that made it a fair question then.

Dumbledore gave the idea to have him working in the schools kitchens, where the other elves could help keep an eye on him.

"Yes, because there's not enough slave labor going on in there, another was really needed," Lily couldn't help but scoff at that, honestly thinking that's more what Hermione would say so felt like somebody should.

Harry however frowned and demanded, "Dumbledore couldn't have suggested that for Sirius? Have him out of the house to begin with?"*

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth. It wasn't ideal, and still left the house-elf open to much vulnerability without someone keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't spread something he wasn't supposed to, but if this had been done at the beginning there would have been little to nothing to start with! He had no good answer for Harry, none of them did.

Harry agreed to this at once and instructed the house-elf to do as such. Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"You didn't even order him not to seek out Bellatrix, or otherwise do much of anything," Sirius frowned in unease at once. "You're leaving that thing far to loose after what you now know he can do."

Harry winced at this overlap, but Lily pacified, "I'm sure whatever Dumbledore was doing before to keep him away from Bellatrix he's continuing now. It may not be permanent and he'd have Harry go back and enforce it later, but it worked for a fortnight, it should last them a while longer."

Sirius was honestly just disappointed Harry hadn't clothed the thing and be done with it, but as that would only circle them back to the problem with the Order he chose to let it all go instead and hopefully move on.

All that was left now was the matter of Buckbeak.

Here he actually sobered, for the first time realizing he'd had something in his care. It was as if someone were telling him what was being done to his owl Buggle when he went to Azkaban. He'd somehow grown distantly fond of Buckbeak and he'd never even met him yet.

Hagrid had been looking after him, but if Harry wished other arrangements-

He perked up all over again, a lighthearted chuckle escaping a throat he wouldn't have thought possible a moment ago. At least Hagrid got something out of this!

Harry at once said that was perfect.

"I am wondering now why that wasn't done anyways," James ruffled up his hair at such a simple explanation. "It's not like the Ministry was going to swing back by and accuse him of having the same hippogriff that had gotten away so many years ago."

"I'm sure I kept him around for a quick get away," Sirius shrugged, not liking the idea of how long he probably went without a wand on the run, and had probably still been afraid of being unable to apparete so Buckbeak was just an extra security for it at the time.

They had rechristened him to be Witherwings just in case, but no one should ever suspect a thing about the hippogriff to die those years ago was the same now.**

"I'm sure that makes him completely invisible to them," Lily couldn't help a giggle.

Now, was his trunk all packed?

Harry muttered err, eyeing his fallen shoe and telescope.

"That means yes, I just have to finish up one or two things," Sirius lightly interpreted.

"Like the rest of it," James snorted.

Harry ran off to finish this, but came back to find Dumbledore was still waiting in the sitting room. So he reluctantly came back and found Dumbledore waiting for him to finish by addressing the Dursleys that Harry would come of age in a years time.

Petunia spoke up for the first time he would not, he was a month younger than Dudley who didn't turn eighteen until the year after next.

"What does that have to do with anything?" James asked. He'd just thought Petunia had completely forgotten how old Harry was, which was honestly a likely answer.

"Muggles are considered of age at eighteen," Lily shrugged.

James looked baffled at what he saw as a random number but didn't press her for more.

Dumbledore corrected wizards were of age at seventeen, and ignoring Vernon's mutters of preposterous.

"I would too," Sirius nodded.

"Honestly, a year is so preposterous?" Remus rolled his eyes.

Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions,

Sirius made an agitated noise at just how casually that was said.

was still in danger from Voldemort, though the protection invoked fifteen years ago when he'd been left here would be broken at that age.

Sirius finished through gritted teeth, the hate curling tight in his chest never having left since the moment he'd heard that and still somehow convinced if they could just fix that one thing it would all be worth it!

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together.

They had not done as asked, had never treated Harry as their own. He'd known nothing but cruelty and neglect at their hands.

James twisted violently in his seat for the reminder, his will prepared to launch him back at that door right then to continue retribution for that, but this time Harry was there, more sure of himself than ever to keep them close to him while he still could. He scooted close to his dad and nudged him with a small smile he didn't really feel, but it worked. For all the reminder it was that had happened to Harry, looking at him was just as much a reminder he shouldn't leave him now.

The best that could be said was that he had not suffered the same damage as the boy between them now.

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

Lily scoffed in more disgusted disbelief than she would have thought possible. She really just couldn't believe anyone was so daft before she was forcefully hearing about them.

Vernon furiously tried to protest they'd never done anything against their Dudders,

"Yes, because that was the accusation you should defend," Remus snarled none to quietly even if he did try to keep that one under his breath.

but Dumbledore raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

He continued the magic keeping him safe would end when he turned seventeen, but he asked that he remain back here until then.

Lily was already fuming by the time Sirius got to that, and couldn't stop herself all but shouting, "Ask? Since when has he had to ask before? He's been forced back whether he wanted it or not! If you hadn't told him they'd have no reason to think otherwise until he was eighteen and could finally kick him out themselves!"

Harry did the same for her, wrapping a gentle arm around her in a hug. She merely patted his arm but refused to really let herself be comforted while this monster of a sister was permitted to act dumb about this.

James had agreed with every word, and wanted more than anything to add on this magic protecting Harry seemed more confusing the more he heard of it. Why would the protection end when he turned of age? Couldn't it simply be reset so long as he was living with Petunia he would remain safe? Not that he in any way wanted that, but if Dumbledore were there the moment it happened and reset it up again, his son would remain safer for just that little bit longer until they came up with a true plan to rid Voldemort once and for all. Apparently though it just vanished once he was an adult, which wasn't unbelievable as the age broke many spells upon one such as the trace, but he had more questions about this that no one was around to give an answer to.

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been mistreated.

"Honestly the fact that he even has brain cells he hasn't eaten is the miracle," Remus said dryly.

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

So was Lily still, though the comparison between the two had never been less obvious.

He finished with a polite until they met again, the Dursleys looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned,

Harry cocked his head to the side with a nasty frown in place, though he was sure that was simply because he was wishing it had happened again and it was likely Dumbledore had simply never gone back.

and after tipping his hat, swept from the room.

Harry waved goodbye and hauled his things to the curb, where Dumbledore asked he extract his cloak before vanishing the lot to the Burrow so as not to cumbersome them on their further outings tonight.

Harry made sure to duck low so his headmaster couldn't see the mess of his trunk as he did this.

Sirius did make a little 'pfft' noise, erasing some tension back in the room as he not so subtly laughed at how little anyone cared about that.

When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. He told Harry they were now going to step out into the flighty temptress of adventure.

He finished with a greatly attempted curious tone, but even he couldn't deny he wasn't looking forward to whatever he was passing along to Harry. Dumbledore's idea of an adventure very likely wasn't the same as theirs.

HPHPHPHP

Random note, I keep wanting to have James call Harry buckaroo. I've been fighting off this compulsion for ages and even catch myself doing it and deleting it in a few drafts, but you all know for a fact if this had been based in America Harry absolutely would have been called that! Or is that just a Southern thing...

*I feel like there were a bunch of points where characters just casually drop ideas that could have done so much good in the last book but are never mentioned again!

**Why didn't Sirius just use polyjuice potion, Transfiguration, or any number of things to leave Grimmauld place at his leisure, or go adopt Harry, or anything? I never brought it up in fic because I don't have a good answer. Hell, they just gave Buckbeak a new name and no one ever bats an eye. All Sirius would have to do was pick a new name, change his hair color and make his nose a little longer and so long as he didn't do anything to draw attention to himself again, I sincerely doubt anyone would have given it notice ever again. I still don't get why he didn't go to school with Harry last year as Padfoot. There was almost no reason for him to be locked in that house except a headcanon I have that will be revealed in the seventh book, but that's at the end, and this was on my mind now, so please discuss!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #The Life That Never Lived #HBP #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter #Jilly

2 notes · View notes

littlemessyjessi · 4 years

Text

“Chasing Jessi”: A Sirius Black Story: Plus Size OC: Chapter 7: Tinkerbell & The Lost Boy

————————-

Sirius Black Imagine Turned Story

Re-Written and Edit of an old story of mine I had on Mibba that deserved some more love and attention, lol.

Sirius Black x Jess Scamander (OC, OFC, PLUS SIZE OC, PLUS SIZE OFC)

————————————

-------------------------------

Sirius Black was lounging comfortably in his bunk. He hadn't even bothered to change out of the KISS shirt and black flannel pajama bottoms at this point. He was reading through a book that he'd borrowed from Jess. Contrary to popular belief... Sirius actually loved to read.

He’d rather die than admit that but he’d learned from an early age that it could easily provide an escape from his horrible daily life.

Again though, he’d rather die than admit and let someone see him doing it.

He was up rather early on a Sunday morning- something that used to be obscenely out of character before he played Quidditch. Now, it seemed that his biological clock was against him. However, it proved rather useful when wanting the shower to yourself or getting to breakfast while everyone was still in bed. He'd been to breakfast already and was currently just relaxing for he had been informed by a tired looking Lily Evans that Jess was not coming down for breakfast this morning. He had been slightly disappointed but guessed that it was because the two girls had been up late talking. He figured that girls did that just as much as boys did. Although, for Jess's sake he hoped not because James had nearly driven him mad last night by both talking about every detail of his and Lily's date and all but demanding the same from Sirius. Honestly, boys were just as bad as girls when it came to gossip.

If not worse. However, he supposed he could just try and read this ridiculous book of hers until she awoke. He had really just settled in and was beginning to immerse himself into this fantasy world when.... "Sirius!!!" His brows furrowed and he glanced over at Remus who was studying on the floor in front of his bunk but he only shrugged.

"Sirius! Ooof! Sorry! Sirius!" "What in the name of Merlin?" he pondered as he sat the book down and went to the door to see none other than his hyperactive girlfriend balancing a package on her hip and apologizing to a fourth year boy who went white as a ghost at the sight of her. "You're ...you're not supposed to be up here." the boy said. "Oh, I'm sorry." she said to him. "I'm just looking for Sirius. See, I have something I have to-" The boy was too shaken to speak. To be fair, she was still wearing her pajamas and he was a fourteen year old boy, most likely with a crush on her. And she was only wearing a big floppy yellow smiley face shirt and some rather short multi colored shorts. "Over here, love." Sirius smirk. She turned to face him with a relieved smile looking so odd with her floral cat ear headband and her big blue monster house shoes. "Thanks, anyway." she told the boy and gave him a one armed hug. Sirius almost snorted when the boy looked as if he may pass out. The poor boy probably didn't know whether he found her attractive, terrifying or strange....or all three. "What are you doing up here?" he asked her as she came to a stop in front of him, "And in your pajamas no less?" "I have something for you." she said simply but he smirked and she smacked him in the stomach, "Not that!" "Aw, and it's almost my birthday too." he moaned playfully and he opened the door and let her him. "Hello, Remus." she greeted the studious green eyed boy. "Oh, uh, hi Jess." he said a little surprised to see her there, especially in her pjs. "Remus, she beats me." Sirius wailed dramatically. "She wounds me." "If it's to your pride..." he said. "I suggest she do it some more. Your head is far too big as it is." Jess grinned in victory. Sirius gasped, "Moony, old boy, I can't believe it! Everyone's mistreating me and it's almost my birthday!" "Sirius, if you don't come sit down, then I'm going to open your present." she informed him smartly. "Present?" he asked. "What present?" "This one." she said tapping the lid of the green box. "You got me a present?" he asked curiously taking a seat on the bunk as the box lay between them. "No." she said. "Well, yes. I did. But this isn't it. This is from my mum and dad." "What?" he asked in disbelief. "From mum and dad." she repeated. "She sent a blasted howler as well. Damn near threatened my life if I opened it. So I'm guessing it's rather good and most likely involving food. Best open it sooner than later." Sirius' hands shook just a little as he pulled the box open and cringed as a howler floated out. It was that same familiar shape that he recognized as the ones Jess usually got. From previous experiences, he was expecting yelling but relaxed when he saw the letter transform and the dark wax sealed lips give him a smile. It began to speak in a soothing tone, "Hello, Dear. Happy Birthday! I do hope you have a good one this year and that you get this package in time. Jess mentioned that you had a particular liking for toffee and fudge so I do hope you like what's inside. She also mentioned that you loved music and so there is something extra special inside from my husband. He said that he wanted it to go someone who could appreciate her as he much as he did. I wasn't allowed to see so I'm trusting that it's appropriate and if it's it not, you'd best tell me so I can tan his hide! Everything is under the shrinking charm so all you need to do is use the Engorgio charm. If you have trouble with it, I would advise you to ask Lily rather than Jess. She means well but she tends to get terribly excited and...blow things up. We are so excited to see Jess making such lovely friends! She speaks very highly of you and bless your soul, you must be patient to deal with her antics! I do hope she isn't being too rough. Some of those pictures... Merlin, I feared she'd nearly kill you with that one on the broom. I've told her about that! Nevertheless, any friend of hers is a friend to us. Welcome to the family, sweet boy. Have a wonderful birthday, dear! May you have many more! P.S. Do not let my child con you out of your presents with her innocent face. I know that she 'seems' sweet but if you give in...you'll regret it. Trust me. Her father has been wrapped around her finger since she was six seconds old. " When the letter was finished it ripped itself up and turned to ash. Sirius was a little disappointed. It had been so nice...he had kind of wanted to keep it. He glanced up to find Remus looking at him curiously and Jess looking mildly offended. "She makes me sound like some kind of animal." she scoffed. "Well..." Remus smirked. "I'd say more reptilian. You do have a certain, what was it you called it Padfoot? Dragon lady...quality about you." "Remus Lupin!" she scolded him. "You are a booger head and I am not talking to you anymore!" "I have chocolate." he said lifting his brows at her and holding up a piece. "All is forgiven." she said racing over to join him. "So what did she get you?" she piped up from her spot with Remus on the floor. Sirius reached into the box to pull out a container and he smiled. "Toffee." he smiled. "Oooh!" she gushed and jumped on his bed. "That's mum homemade toffee! It's really good! She won a blue ribbons for it at the local Muggle fair!" He pulled another out and observed the white chunks with rainbow sprinkles. "Birthday cake fudge." he smiled as he read the label aloud. "It's really good." Jess nodded. "It tastes like white chocolate and cake batter. Mum makes it for Dad every year on his birthday. I bet she had to make two batches!" He pulled out a jar of something and for just a moment it made him think of firewhiskey but he smiled when he read the label. 'Sirius, dear, this is a new recipe I'm trying out. It's called Toffee Syrup. We like to put it in porridge, tea, pumpkin juice, coffee...come to think of it, anything really. I've added just a bit something special to this one. I'd love to hear what you think.' "Mum'll kill me for telling you this but it's really good you mix it with firewhiskey and put it over ice cream." Jess piped up and he lifted his brows at her. "And here I thought you were sweet and innocent." he commented. She laughed, "Sirius, we both know I'm far from either of those." He pulled out a black knitted hat. "Oh, Mum, doesn't want you to catch cold!" she wailed dramatically. "Don't cry on it." he teased. "But she stitched it with love, Sirius!" she wailed again. He resisted the urge to shove her off the bed when something caught his eye. A small black case and upon further inspection he realized that it was a guitar case. 'Engorgio.' he murmured and enlarged it before pulling the zipper open to reveal a beautiful black acoustic guitar. "Ophelia!" Jess squeaked. "What?" Sirius asked her. "It's Ophelia." she said. "It's Dad's guitar. He let me name her when I was a little girl." Sirius frowned, "Oh, maybe you should have it then." "Nah." she shook her head. "I'm rubbish at guitar. I'm a drums kind of girl...much to mum's dismay." She grinned wickedly and pretended to play the drums.

She never failed to make him laugh. He pulled it out and ran his hand over it before glancing into the case and seeing the matching strap and an envelope. He opened the envelope to reveal a small note and a silver chain with a matching guitar pick on the end. "Hello, Sirius. I hope you have a very Happy Birthday. Jess tells me that you love music along with many other things. She seems quite fond of you and speaks of you quite a lot. Which is considerably out of character for her. You have to understand that for the longest time when she wrote home...it was usually to tell us that Lily's eyebrows had grown back or that she'd was very close to finding redcap colony. Naturally, as her father, I was a little defensive about you at first. However, you seem like an alright lad and she seems to take a liking to you. Any man that will willingly let her braid rainbow colored yarn into their hair....well you're alright with me, kid. I hope you have a great birthday and you enjoy old Ophelia. P.S. If you press the guitar pick, you can record yourself. Comes in handy when you're working on songs. ' Sirius carefully sealed the letter back up and placed everything delicately back in the box. "Sirius?" Jess whispered. "You have really, really good parents." he said quietly. Remus quietly left the room, deciding it was best to give the two of them some time. "I know." she said softly. Sirius just nodded, still just slightly shaking until she placed her hand on his. "Maybe you can meet them sometime. You know, to properly welcome you to the family and all." she said. There was more to that statement than either of them were willing to talk about at that moment. Grey eyes caught green and they just stared for a moment. She decided to break the tension with some comedy. "Mum may be swayed by your charms but I will not being giving you your present from me until it's your actual birthday." she said. "You got me a present?" he questioned. "Yes, and I'm not telling so don't even try!" she scolded as she stuck her finger in his face. He smirked at her challenge as he carefully placed the box underneath his bed and grabbed her ankle. "Not even if I do...." he trailed off as he hovered above her neck. "This." She bit her lip when his lips caressed her skin. "No!" she cried out. "Don't use your tricks!" "How about here?" he asked kissing her nose. "Never." she whispered. "Alright." he said. "But I think I'll try one more." "I'll never surrender, Captain Hook!" she called out, grinning wickedly as she saw her book on his bed side table. "Now, now Tinkerbell. Let's not be rash." he teased. "Now give me some of that pixie dust." She erupted into a fit of giggles, "Sirius Black, Lord of the Cheeseballs!" He tickled her relentlessly, "Surrender!" "Never!" she said rolling out from underneath him and racing into the halls, "Lost Boys, unite! We have to defend ourselves against the terrible Captain Hook!" The muggleborns got it, thought it was weird, but go it. Everyone...just kind of wrote it off as Jess being Jess. And James Potter stood at the foot of stairs looking at his friend with an odd expression on his face. "What?" Sirius asked. James shook his head. "Nothing. It's just...you two are clearly into some weird things." he said. Sirius laughed and shoved his friend along into his room. The thing was...he didn't mind her little games. He loved them almost as much as he did her.

Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

Hello, loves! How do we feel about Sirius’ early bday present from Jess’ parents? How are we liking their relationship so far?

I’d love to what you think! Please feel free to hit up the ask box, blast the comment section or reblog with your thoughts and feelings! Next chappie coming soon!

All my love darlings!

Kenny

————————-

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666@thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@tubbypeachwriting

@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph

@congurl

@centerhabit

@bubblymusiclover13

@qtmeryr

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@tnupsweetpie

@alisoncdariel

@hannahloveslife

@wormyboi

@blackirisposts

@maggyme13

@amethyst09

@ibenkastberg

@fanfics1717 @mrscasnovak

@thickemadame @babygirl-barnes

@theladyofmasks @aengsty

@kalliravenne

@witchygagirl

@gruffle1

@writtenbywolfie

@kribbydahhufflepuff

@leah-halliwell92

@thelastwildangel

@silent-browser

@simplymagical@simplymagicalwritings

@lilacflicker

@malulucifer

@minxyvixen

@moncheriemoony

@queenlexusloverofbts

@criminalyetminimal

@plus-size-reader

@owenniasstars

Love, Kenny

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black story #sirius black x ps #sirius black x plus size #plus size #ps #ps ofc #ps oc #plus size oc #plus size ofc #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders era sirius black #young sirius black

26 notes · View notes