#i wanted to add lightning bolt scars as well but that might have been too busy so

[plutoswarrior]

nothing fixes art block quite like maul fursona.

[raeynbowboi]

Disney Villains in DnD

With the Disney Princesses and Princes, I put them into parties, but for the villains, I’m going to start by listing the ones powerful enough to be a Warlock Patron in descending order of power (by their base form). The rest are ordered by the release date of their film. I’m not going to cover all of the Disney villains in this one post, as there’s just too many, and not all of them map easily onto DnD.

CHERNABOG THE DARK MASTER

AS BIG BAD: Archfield Patron Warlock (Asmodeus)

As Playable Character:

Race: Asmodeus Tiefling Background: Courtier Class: Divine Soul Sorcerer (Evil) Skills: Insight, Deception, Intimidation, Persuasion

The Devil on Bald Mountain, Chernabog stands as Satan and Lucifer incarnate, the Disney-Canon equivalent to the Prince of Darkness, and the ruler of Hell. Like with Maleficent and Hades, Chernabog lacks a stat block, being a Greater Deity, and King of the Archfiends, Ruler of the Nine Hells. As a playable character, Chernabog doesn’t lend out his hellish powers or get them from an outside source. Instead he is a Tiefling with the infernal bloodline of Asmodeus (Lawful Evil) running through his veins. When he was an angel, Lucifer would have been a courtier, standing in the shining Court of Heaven before he was banished to Hell. His skills make him adept at lying to and manipulating people, as Insight lets him learn a person’s desires, and then use lies and honeyed words to lead them astray in his service. Consider this a free “how to play as satan” build.

MALEFICENT THE WICKED FAIRY

As Big Bad: The Raven Queen

As Playable Character:

Race: Hexblood Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Wildfire Druid Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Perception

Lore-wise, Maleficent uses “All the Powers of Hell”, but in terms of Dungeons and Dragons, the Wildfire Druid gives Maleficent the best parallels to her powers, as she’s able to grow a wall of thorns, call a bolt of lightning, Polymorph into a fire-breathing dragon, and spread fire. It also works lore-wise as the Wildfire Druid destroys the very forest they swore to protect. As a Hexblood, Maleficent becomes a fey hag, able to curse princesses and disguise herself as a racial ability. As the Big Bad, Maleficent maps perfectly onto the Raven Queen, ruling over the shadowfell, summoning the Heartless to do her biding, and loaning Diablo to those who worship or swear fealty to the Raven Queen.

HADES GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD

As Big Bad: Hades/Death God

As Playable Character:

Race: Mephistopheles Tiefling/Reborn Background: Charlatan Class: Death Cleric Skills: Deception, Insight, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand

For Hades, the God of the Dead, making him into a Cleric was a no-brainer. But Clerics have very limited options for fire magic. Sacred flame and Flame Strike both deal radiant damage, and their only other fire spell is Searing Smite which they got in the spell list expansion. But as a Mephistopheles Tiefling, Hades can also gain temporary access to Burning Hands and Flame Blade, along with Mage Hand. Mephistopheles is also the demon best known for making a deal with Faust, a trait shared by the deal-making Hades. If you’re not feeling the fire theme, or your DM doesn’t like the tiefling subraces, Hades can also work as a Reborn.

THE HORNED KING MASTER OF THE CAULDRON BORN

As Big Bad: Undead/Undying Warlock Patron (Lich)

As Playable Character:

Race: Reborn Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Necromancy Wizard Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Investigation

Ironically, there is a new magic item that maps perfectly onto the Black Cauldron, the Cauldron of Rebirth. But oddly, it can only be attuned by a Druid or Warlock, and the Necromancy Wizard creates the strongest undead thralls, as he adds his Proficiency Bonus to their attack and damage rolls. But if you’d rather have the Horned King be able to use the Cauldron of Rebirth, then make him a Spores Druid. If you absolutely must go warlock, make him an Undead Warlock. As a Warlock Patron, he would be a Lich. In the Chronicles of Prydain books, he served Arawn, God of Death. But the Horned King serves no such master in the Disney film.

JAFAR THE GRAND VIZIER

As Big Bad: Genie Warlock Patron (Efreeti)

Race: Human/Fire Genasi Background: Courtier (Insight, Persuasion) Class: Genie Warlock (Djinni)/Wild Magic Sorcerer Skills: Arcana, Deception, Insight, Persuasion

Jafar is the only one of the patron villains who themselves is a warlock to another patron. In his human form, Jafar has little to no powers. Everything Jafar is able to do is through either his magic snake staff or Genie’s magic. It’s only once he becomes a genie himself that Jafar has his own powers. So, Jafar here is split between two builds. As a human, he’s a warlock relying on a djinni. As a genie himself, he’s a wild magic sorcerer. Technically, he could be both. Play Jafar however you want. As a big bad, Jafar is stuck as one of the most subserviant types of warlock patron, which isn’t so surprising why he’s this low on the patron scale. Only Ursula is technically weaker than him, but that’s only true when she’s in her base form. Once she wields the trident, Ursula is even more powerful than The Horned King.

URSULA THE SEA WITCH

As Big Bad: Fathomless Warlock Patron (Sea Hag/Kraken)

As Playable Character:

Race: Triton Background: Courtier (Insight, Persuasion) Class: Glamour Bard Skills: Arcana, Deception, Insight, Performance, Persuasion Items: Circlet of Human Perfection (reskin as seashell necklace)

I built Ariel as a Fathomless Warlock because in order for her to be on land, she had to make a deal with Ursula. So, with Ursula on land, she can masquerade as Vanessa, using Ariel’s voice to charm and manipulate people. We even see Ursula do this when she charms Eric, so we know that as Vanessa, Ursula could easily run a successful criminal empire using Ariel’s voice to hypnotize and manipulate people into obeying her orders. The Circlet of Human Perfection allows Ursula to maintain a perfect beautiful human disguise without having to eat up spell slots. As a Fathomless Patron, Ursula in her base form is a simple Sea Hag, being much weaker. But once she gets a hold of Dekella, the Bident of Thassa from King Triton, she can grow in both size and power to rival the might of a Kraken. And with Thassa’s divine bident, Ursula can command the tides and all the beasts and monstrosities within it, puting her nearly on par with the powers of a goddess of the sea. But unlike Hades, Maleficent, and Chernabog, even at her near godlike power, Ursula still has a stat block, her bident can still be taken from her, and she can still be slain and defeated.

QUEEN GRIMHILDE THE EVIL QUEEN

Race: Human Background: Noble (History, Persuasion Intimidation) Class: Alchemist Artificer Skills: Arcana, History, Intimidation, Investigation

I really did consider the Transmutation Wizard for Grimhilde, as it has the power to cast polymorph for all of your Frog Prince needs, and a master transmuter can even Restore Youth. But then, the alchemist can brew a potion of transformation, and the chemistry set is clearly how we see Grimhilde using magic. The only magic she performs without the chemistry set is when she creates a gust of wind in front of her magic mirror. She doesn’t even create the lightning bolt for her transformation spell, it just happens to be storming outside, so she’s not controlling the weather either. Plus, the most powerful spell she has is the poisoned apple and she has to summon a bolt of lightning to cast Alter Self, a 2nd level spell. By DnD standards, Grimhilde’s not really that powerful. She doesn’t even fight the player herself in Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep.  If you want Grimhilde to be more magical, then go with Transmutation Wizard, but if you want to be more accurate, the Alchemist is how Grimhilde does her magic. Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove shares a nearly identical build.

CAPTAIN HOOK THE GENTLEMAN THIEF

Race: Human Background: Pirate (Athletics, Perception) Class: Swashbuckler Rogue Skills: Athletics, Deception, Insight, Intimidation, Perception, Persuasion

While Hook’s still a putrid coward, he holds himself quite well, and is the epitome of Lawful Evil, maintaining a strict personal moral code to clash with Peter’s frankly Chaotic Neutral “heroism”. Hook’s not really good at the normal rogue skills like hiding or thieving, but he shines as a manipulative double-talking liar. Long John Silver from Treasure Planet has a similar build.

GASTON LEGUME THE HANSOME HUNTER

Race: Human Background: Folk Hero (Animal Handling Persuasion, Survival) Class: Monster Slayer Ranger Skills: Athletics, Perception, Persuasion Stealth, Survival

As the strapping hero of Belle’s Village, Gaston has the favor of his entire community, keeping them safe from any and all beasties that lurk beyond the city. Too bad he’s as rotten as they come. Likely one of the weakest villains in terms of pure power scale as little more than a local hero, he’s still an iconic enough villain I couldn’t resist adding him. Clayton from Tarzan shares a similar build.

SCAR THE USURPER OF PRIDE ROCK

Race: Leonin Background: Noble (History, Persuasion) Class: Oath of Treachery Paladin Fighting Style: Unarmed Skills: History, Insight, Intimidation, Persuasion

Simba was a druid because he was a wise king who could call upon his people to stand beside him. Scar is a paladin because he has devoted himself to a single goal: his own personal power. Scar shows little wisdom, but has a strong character and savvy charms about him that make him better suited as a CHA caster.

JUDGE CLAUDE FROLLO THE JUDGE OF PARIS

Race: Human Background: Investigator Class: Light Cleric Skills: Insight, Investigation, Persuasion, Religion

This was an easy villain to build. As a religious man worshipping God (who would def fall under Life, Light, and maybe Knowledge) Frollo would go for the one that lets him keep witches warm. His background was chosen as an investigator because he’s responsible for keeping the peace in Paris, and there wasn’t a background option for lawmaker. Noble or Courtier might have worked, but didn’t seem quite like the right fit as they deal more with aristocratic authority and royal court politics.

RIKU THE HEARTLESS KEYBLADE MASTER

Race: Human Background: Soldier (Athletics, Intimidation) Class: Raven Queen Warlock/Hexblade Warlock, Shadow Sorcerer Pact Boon: Blade Skills: Arcana, Athletics, Deception, Intimidation

In the first Kingdom Hearts game, Riku spends most of the game being manipulated by Maleficent. His DnD counterpart would surely be a warlock to her. But Maleficent oddly has not one but three possible warlock patron options. As the Raven Queen, she obviously has the Raven Queen Warlock, but the Raven Queen also created the Hexblade, which come from the Shadowfell, which she rules over. The third is unique to Maleficent, as she is a fairy, and a powerful one at that. Making her a valid choice for an Archfey Warlock. Archfey doesn’t quite fit Riku, but the other two do, and as a Sorcerer, Riku draws power from the Shadowfell which his patron rules over.

DR. FACILIER THE SHADOW MAN

Race: Human Background: Charlatan (Deception, Sleight of Hand) Class: Fiend Warlock Skills: Arcana, Deception, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand

It’s kind of hard to deny that Dr. Facilier is obviously a warlock, though his patron options don’t really come close to a neat fit. Among his choices though, fiend comes the closest to selling his soul to the Other Siders or Shadow Folk. It’s possible he could have sold his soul to the Raven Queen and his shadowy friends are the emissaries of the shadowfell, but as he has no raven or crow familiar, that’s a somewhat weak comparison.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff 

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

-

Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[sporksaber]

Ok, I love the role swap concept with zuko and azula, but I feel like they switch their abilities and personalities a bit too and I think itd be more fun without that. Where Azula is an antisocial and unstable genius who wants to gain power and zuko still struggles with being the less powerful and extremely empathetic sibling. So here's how I'd do it.

(Note, this is just for fun. I'm not saying anyone else's version is bad. But I've though about this so much and need it out of my head before I go off cuz make a whole comic and I do not have the time, i need to work.)

First off, Azula wouldn't call out in concern for the men like how zuko did. In my version she's allowed into the meeting because of the aptitude for strategy shes shown. She speaks up because it's an inefficient plan that uses up too many resources when there are other options. This enrages her father and leads to the agni kai. Azula is terrified and feels betrayed but has no idea how to handle any of it. She fights back during the agni kai, but in her panic she sets off a bolt of lightning. Ozai finishes the match and severely burns on her lower back. Azula is banished for her use of lightning on the fire lord (bc ozai fears she will no longer be easy to manipulate and might plot his death) and is forced to leave the next morning.

Some things to note: azula is eleven at this point. I changed the placement of the scar bc I think zuko's is very symbolic in a way that doesnt suit azula. Zuko's scar being over his eye and close to the light chakra shows the way his view of the fire nation and honour obscures his vision and how he is unaware of the truth of the world under fire nation rule. I set azula's over her spine because that chakra is based on survival and blocked by fear. It also represents trust which will fit into her arc with the gaang. Finally, she doesnt have Iroh to guide her. One of the things that bothered me was Iroh writing her off as evil despite her being a mentally unstable child. She did have to be defeated, but the way he talked about it was too dismissive. (Personally I think he was projecting his views of his brother and his perceived failures with him onto her.) Azula isnt sent to capture the avatar so she isnt given soldiers. She's completely alone without an advisor to look to or keep her calm.

Azula is given a manned ship with a disgraced soldier and an attendant when she leaves. The way I see it the soldiers zuko had were probably more irohs than his. The soldier is relieved to not be executed but hates being demoted to playing babysitter to a child at sea. The attendant views it as a punishment and hates Azula for it. Eventually the attendant will betray her and be killed for it. Azula never trusted the soldier and he eventually leaves to start a family in an earth kingdom colony. Azula doesnt miss him, he was no longer useful. The loneliness does get to her though.

Azula is obsessed with getting the underhand, so she had been successfully building connections and planting spies where needed.

(Zuko has been acting as a respectable crowned prince. He holds a zealous loyalty to his nation and father. He still faulters as Iroh tries to steer him from tyranny, but his sights are set on his father's approval and that alone. Afterall, if his prodigy could be discarded who's to say what would happen to him if he failed?)

This brings us to the start of the series. Like Zuko Azula witnesses the trap on the old fire nation battle ship go off. She investigates and finds that an air bending avatar is living at the south pole village. She decides she wants to speak with him.

Azula didn't believe the avatar existed before this point. Hiding didnt add up to her knowledge of the morality of airbenders, so she assumed the air nation avatar from the start of the war would be dead. She would know if one had appeared in the water tribe, as the south had all its benders killed and the north was compacted so close together it would be impossible to hide. Earth would be harder, but they were most likely to fight back and out act. And if in ba sing se they'd be used as a weapon or gotten rid of to preserve the peace of the city. Once the culcle progressed to the fire nation it would either be used to take over the other nations or enf the cycle for good. After all, there hasn't been an air bender for a hundred years even if the rumors of some acolytes surviving were truthful.

Azula kidnaps aang with far more ease than she should of been able to. Once he stops struggling she calmly offers him tea and promises to release him once their discussion is finished. He takes the tea and drinks it without question and besides a wary glare shows no more hostility. She thought him a fool, the tea could have easily been poisoned and promised are nothing but words. His naivete makes her job easier though.

She finds out that he was suspended frozen in the avatar state the last 100 years. And so, Azula informs him of the war and the fire nations crimes, advising him to master the elements if he wants to prevent all his new friends and the avatar cycle from certain destruction. Aang is conflicted, he never asked for any of this. Azula just gives a bitter smile. "The hands of fate were never designed to take requests, they move without regard to any life dependent on it. Dont waste your breath when there is nothing you can do."

Azula wants to see Ozai fail. If helping the avatar is what it takes then so be it. When his friends appear to save him she let's them leave without a fight. Theyll be useful in the future.

As the gaang's travels kick off she sets out to find out if the rumours about the acolytes are true. In this she finds a traveling circus. The youngest daughter and an old friend of hers was eager to escape and found Azula's life exciting. She didn't hesitate after being invited along, insisting that traveling would be easy for her and that she'd pull her own weight.

She encounters the gaang a few times as time goes by. The relationship is reluctant on the water tribe siblings part, they dont trust her and hold a decent amount of fear towards her. Her cold and calculating demeanor was unsettling, but the unhinged way she fought was terrifying. Her form was perfect and her attacks were precise, but the bigger the fight the more lost she became as she laughed and shrieked and occasionally snapped at someone who didnt seem to be there. The only worse reaction was when she zeroed in on one opponent, picking them apart both mentally and physically as she drove them to the ground. )

Things that'll happen as I move through an episode list:

Azula doesn't have her ship attacked do she diesnt run into zhao while doing repairs, instead going straight to ty lee.

Azula learns that the gaang is on kyoshi island and heads ther after them. She has been keeping track of the avatar as they move. Ty lee gets along well with the kyoshi warriors while azula buts heads with them. They dont want her there and azula hates it when people get in the way. Zhao appears to try to capture aang and Azula dips at the same time as the gaang. She tells ty lee she can stay but she insists on sticking with azula. This puts her on edge.

Ty lee gets captured by earth benders, when she escapes on her own she cements her usefulness to Azula.

They run into zhao trying to capture the avatar and azula tells him she'll capture him first. They both attack aang during the solstice, though azula's attacks are all purposefully set to miss and trip up zhao as much as possible. Aang is the best way to prove her father wrong and she's not going to lose that.

They rob the pirates that try to capture the avatar. Azula needs the resources and it gives her leverage over the gaang.

After almost killing ty lee for scaring her by popping up behind her Azula tells her why she was banished. (In more of a "my own mother thought I was a monster" way than an opening up about trauma way.)

Azula learns that zhao has captured aang and frees him. She then sets to reworking her information network as not all of them are scared enough of her to not fail her. She remedies it quickly.

Azula learns that zhao is plotting her assassination and decides it's the perfect moment to fake her death.

Azula enters the north pole to defeat zhao and gain any information she can. Ty lee rades a library during the confrontation. Zhao is surprised and infuriated to see her alive, Azula smiles as she sends him to his death knowing that she is not only helping the avatar but also that he gave her a perfect way to hide from the fire nation. (When news of his sisters death reaches hum, Zuko doesnt know what to think. She was always cruel to him, but she was still his little sister.)

The crown prince of the fire nation is sent to capture the avatar. Azula follows him as he begins his search. (Zuko begins to think he's going insane as he keeps catching glimpses of his recently deceased sister out of the corner of his eye.)

Ty lee keeps running into a girl she slowly befriends. She's gloomy and sarcastic and ty lee thinks Azula would like her. (Zuko's fiance Mai tells him that she thinks his sister is still alive.)

As Azula notices ty lee become more and more distracted as she absorbed herself into the cultures that surround them she decides it's best for them to split up. Ty lee diesnt agree, but Azula leaves anyway. She has work to do.

While traveling alone Azula cant escape the thoughts of her mother. Of her fathers betrayal. Of the life she lost because the idiot elders had no grip on proper strategy that even a child could create. She meets a boy that reminds her far too much of zuko with a mother far to similar to theirs. When she sends the bandits controlling the town running she knows it's more than just controlling a territory that compelled her. But at the same time she doubts not following through on the whim would have bothered her.

Ty lee meets toph and chat for a bit. Ty lee tells her about azula and how she left. When toph tells her she should forget her she insists that azula didnt really ditch her and that they're still friends. They talk about their friends and childhood.

Ty lee finds Azula and immidiently jumps at her, which she does not enjoy. Ty lee insists that she still wants to travel with her and Axula sighs as she let's her tag along to the next location, ba sing se.

Azula slips through guards and protocols as she tries to gain any information she can to help her once they reach the city. Ty lee befriends a guy named jet and his group, the freedom fighters. When he tries to get more than friendship she turns him down and it becomes much more awkward.

Ty lee becomes a street performer and chames everyone she meets as Azula researches the dai lee and how they keep control. After lashing out in frustration ty lee drags her out to enjoy the city's night life.

Azula learns of the presence of the avatar and location of appa. She frees him and sets to work taking control of the dai lee. She let's herself be briefly captured but her plan shifts when katara is thrown in with her. Katara is pissed just being around her and azula plays up a cool kind of annoyance. Katara briefly catches sight of the burns on Azula's back and offers to heal her, only for Azula to freak out and yell at her to stay away, backing against a far wall in a fighting stance. They are saved by the rest if the gaang and ty lee shortly after.

Azula goes back to try and salvage her plan only to be caught off guard by the appearance of her brother and his offer to return to the fire nation. Not willing to lose all possible advantages, she agrees. They battle the gaang, and when they are almost captured azula sends a bolt of lightning at aang, causing them to retreat. Katara can heal him more easily than she can maneuver them out of an execution.

Azula returns to the fire nation with her brother, mai and ty lee, starting the beginning of a large power play between her and her father. They are sent to lo and li beach house. The relationship between the siblings is tense, zuko has always been the child born with nothing who gained everything when his blessed at birth sister lost it all. Azula has always been cruel, but he cant help but let his heart catch on the moments when she's not. ("My own mother thought I was a monster, My father thought i was too difficult to keep around" "Don't let their words blind you, you need to be more careful, zuzu." "I learned the hard way to never turn your back to anyone, and the scars will always be there as a reminder if I need it." )

Azula runs into iroh, who is very disapproving of her presence. He warns her to stay away from zuko and to watch herself while at the palace. Later, zuko comes to her asking about their great grandfather. Upon being pressed he admits that he was sent a mysterious letter. He thought she was going to burn it when he handed it to her but instead the heat from the fire revealed a hidden ink. "Honestly brother, did you ever pay attention at all during lessons?" They find a autobiographical scroll of their great grandfathers life and the secret that their other great grandfather was roku. Azula scoffed at the idea of bloodlines deciding fate and quickly left. But Zuko remained conflicted.

During the day of the black sun Azula confronts Ozai. As iroh and Zuko fight the avatar. She learns that her mother left for zuko's sake and that she was never going to be fire lord. Azula tells him she'll be somthing even better and leaves the palace.

Azula and ty lee follow the gaang to the western air temple. Katara immidprntly attacks but is quickly rendered unable to bend by ty lee. Azula tells them that the only way for them to of gotten out was for Aang to be incapacitated, and she knew katara could heal him. Aang decides they can stay but have to stay distanced from everyone else.

Azula tries to teach aang fire bending but is slowly growing sick while aang is barely able to produce a puff of smoke. Unable to sleep and constantly on edge, it soon affects her bending, sending her spiraling as she loses control on the only consistent power she's ever had. Her and aang journey to find the true source of fire bending to try to help their conditions.

Still sick, Azula is itching to do anything away from the temple. Finding sokka trying to reach the boiling rock to find his father, she decides to go with him as she knows the prison well. Sokka declines but she goes anyway. They dont find his father, but they do find suki. Azula formulates a plan but they postpone when sokka's father arrives.

Azula comes up with a new plan, now reluctant to include sokka. He tells her to trust him but she insists she has no reason to. Her sickness has been getting worse and he tells her she needs to trust him, making her angry. Only when he catches her while they're escaping dies she finally begin to accept trusting him, if only slightly.

(While they're away ty lee tries to convince

Azula goes with Katara to find the man who killed her mother. Azula has no concept of why katara is so upset, which causes her to get angry. But azula tracks the man anyway.

Ember island players- azulas character has the scar across her chest. She's absolutely insane and "not entirely inaccurate, but I'd never come up with such a dumb plan." Shes also heavily implied to be more than close to ty lee, which azula has no reaction to even as the others freak out.

I havent decided the ending, zuko will probably turn to the gaang's side. I'll add more later and maybe write or illustrate a bit.

[zozee122-2]

The War Ends at Dusk

This is my first fan fiction, so I worked super hard on it! This is the prologue, and the first chapter is finished so I will post that shortly. The premise is four years after the accounts of RWBY and Blake and Yang are awaiting the birth of their first child. Ruby, Weiss, Nora, and Ren are in the waiting room awaiting the birth of the bumbleby baby. The fic is centered around the bee family, and add a bit of found family trope and new age angst.

WC: 2,214

“Does anyone know how much longer this is going to take? I mean they’ve been in there almost 10 months!” Nora barked, getting up to stretch. Ren sighed and grabbed his partner’s hand.

“Patience, please Nora. This has got to be hard on Blake and Yang too.” Ren said ever ready to calm down his excitable partner.

Ruby chuckled, “Guess they’ll be as stubborn as Yang. Taking bets that they’ll be born tomorrow?” she said checking the clock on the wall which read 5:38 pm, the group had been there since Yang’s frantic group text that early morning that Blake was going into labor.

“I’ll put ten liens on that bet, Ruby” Nora said tossing Ruby a rolled-up bill.

Weiss and Ren collectively sighed at their partner’s immaturity and gave each other a knowing look.

“Ruby, your sister’s wife, your best friend, is giving birth to her first child have some sympathy.” Weiss retorted rubbing the bridge of her nose. The four of them sat in silence for a minute. It seemed impossible that they were here together to celebrate life. Something none of them saw in their future a mere four years ago when they were fighting for their lives and battling a unkillable creature. Ruby sat back in the hospital seat closing her remaining eye. She was about to be an aunt, she still couldn’t believe that they were all here like this, yesterday it seemed that Blake and Yang announced they were officially dating, yesterday that they were trapped in Purgatory without seeing any way out. Ruby smiled, she couldn’t quite describe how elated she was to celebrate this moment with her closest friends and family.

“You know,” Ruby started, “I don’t know if you all feel this way, but this feels unreal.”

Weiss looked to her best friend and smiled sincerely, “It does feel unreal. Like all the tribulations we went through as teenagers seems so close, yet so far away. I’m happy in a way that we were a part of the new future that we are giving to Blake and Yang’s child, to all future generations, that they will never have to worry about the things we did.”

“Never thought a future would exist for us like this,” Nora chimed in, taking Ren’s hand, “After everything, I am so thankful that I get to experience this moment. Can’t imagine what they must be feeling too and I’m glad Jaune is assisting in boosting her aura for childbirth.” She smiled and looked towards the birth wing.

Ren rubbed her hand with his, smiling contently, “When we became huntsman it seemed like a forever thing, like we would never be able to experience moments in life as precious as this. I felt like this at Yang and Blake’s wedding too. Their happiness and love for each other filled the room with pink petals, their emotions were so raw and real, I can even feel it today.”

The three smiled at him, “You always know what to say, Ren.” Weiss said, “I just cannot wait to spoil the little thing.”

The group laughed, “They just have to hurry up and get out into the world!” Nora yelled earning a strict look from one of the nurses. She uttered a soft apology while Ruby chuckled and in turn Weiss gave her a look.

Ruby sighed, “It is taking a long time, I hope she’s okay. Has anyone heard anything from Yang or Jaune?”

The four of them checked their scrolls, “Haven’t heard anything sense ‘Blake is 7 centimeters,’ and that was two hours ago.” Weiss replied, huffing quietly in annoyance.

“Hmm, well we could tell some stories to pass the time?” Ruby asked rubbing her chin.

Nora looked up at her, “Practicing your story telling skills on us before you have to tell famous, huntress who saved all of Remnant Auntie Ruby Rose stories?” Nora asked.

Ruby laughed, “Partially, I guess. So, yes, or no?”

Ren nodded, “I’d like to hear some, maybe some that we were not together for? Like what you’ve been doing now with Jaune and Weiss?”

Weiss looked at Ruby, not like her work now was anything confidential, just not something Ruby liked to talk about specifically. It hit close to her.

Ruby took a long sigh, she closed her good eye and raised her hand to touch her scarred over right eye, “I’d hate to put a damper on our good moods,” Ruby let out a long breath and Weiss put her hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you do not want to Ruby, it’s not an easy topic to discuss,” Weiss reassured Ruby.

Ruby looked to Weiss, who has been next to her throughout her whole journey, never questioning Ruby’s judgement, the most loyal person Ruby has ever met. However, Weiss was right, this was not an easy topic to talk about. Especially when this only mattered to her, but she has not discussed this with anyone except her teammates and Oscar. She was reminded of her mother for a moment, and Maria who did not have a lot of information to give her either on the silver eyed warriors. After seeing Salem’s Hound, she promised herself that she would do whatever it takes to end any part of Salem’s tyranny, and as of late Ruby found several lackey groups that still practiced horrid experiments on silver eyed people.

“I could talk about it, but I am not sure where to begin, it is not a particularly easy thing to talk about. You remember four years ago in Atlas, the Hound that was after Oscar and Penny?”

Ruby could feel the atmosphere shift. Weiss raised her hand from Ruby’s shoulder to fix her hair bun. Nora’s shoulders slumped and her eyes darted to the ground. Ren let out a long audible sigh as he straightened in his seat.

Ren spoke first, “It, it is not something I like to think about,” remembering his own impudence, “but I will never forget it.”

“I was thankful that I did not have to see it in person,” Nora added rubbing her lightning bolt scar on her neck.

Ren folded his hands on his lap, “It’s never something I like to discuss either, if the students ever bring it up, I mean.”

Weiss nodded, “Ruby and I have been well…” Weiss looked to Ruby.

“We have been finding Salem’s old research facilities and finding silver eyed people being experimented on.” Ren and Nora collectively gasped. “Yeah, it is not something, well it is not an easy thing to talk about. The hardest part was finding out that Salem, even now that she is gone, still has her clutches across Remnant.”

Weiss rubbed Ruby’s back, “As a huntsman rehabilitations counselor, I focus on finding homes for the silver eyed people who have either been born into the lab, or who have lost family members…” Weiss trailed off looking at her scroll to check any messages.

Ruby picked where Weiss left off, “It is not an ideal situation, but through Weiss’ company we are finding homes that are taking children and teenagers and Oscar is letting adults live in some empty apartments in Vale.

Ren shook his head, “I hate that there are still veins of Salem’s reign throughout the kingdoms, but I am glad that there is you two that are liberating these people.”

Nora placed her hands on her thighs, an exasperated expression on her face, “I have a student with silver eyes, they’re so promising. I can’t imagine anything ever happening to them.”

Ren nodded in agreement, “Yes, they are a wonder, though I am not sure they know how to use their silver eye powers yet.”

Ruby nodded, “It might be best right now, for your student to not know, it will paint an even bigger target on their back.”

Weiss looked to Ren and Nora, of course they would be worried about their students, even though there was peace many dangers still lurked around the corners, still small threats of Salem’s powers.

“Nowadays, huntsmen and huntresses are returning home, all of the small lurking problems are ones for the younger generation now.” Weiss said giving a reassuring look to Ren and Nora.

“Remnant is safe, yes though there are Grimm still lurking about, thieves trying to steal maiden powers or relics, even bandit troops are still around. While these new huntsmen nowadays don’t have to worry about the fate of the world, they are just cleaning up our scraps.”

Nora stood and looked Ruby in the eye defiantly, “Ruby, that is why Ren and I decided to become professors at Beacon. People will always be willing to help those in need and we will be there to offer support, just like our professors and mentors did for us.”

Ruby sniffed and stood to give Nora a hug, “I will always count on you guys to do that for us, and if you ever need a guest talk about the silver eyed warriors or to teach your student how to use their eyes, I am here for you. All three of you.”

“You guys, I love the sentiment, but you should really save your tears for Blake and Yang’s child.” Weiss sighed.

The group laughed. “I am glad our parents were allowed to go into the room with them, but I am a bit jealous,” Ruby said and continued, “Dad is so excited to be a grandpa and I know Kali and Ghira have been waiting for this moment too. I don’t think I have been this excited for something in a long time.”

“I couldn’t wait to meet the little cub since the baby shower, I think I bought too many gifts.” Weiss sighed leaning on her knees.

“I am surprised you still have money after that spree,” Nora said sitting back down next to Ren.

Ren laughed, “I splurged a bit too much as well, almost my whole paycheck.”

“Mrs. Xiao Long-Belladonna! Do not run in the halls!”

The group stood up when Yang burst into the waiting room.

“Yang! Is everything alright?!” Ruby and the rest stood quickly.

Yang ripped the hair cap from her head and pulled her surgical mask down, beaming from ear to ear.

“Guys! You’re allowed to come into our room, there is someone I’d like you to meet!”

…

The gang followed Yang quickly down the hallway to the room. Jaune was waiting outside for them.

“Everything alright still?” Yang asked him, leaning an arm on his shoulder.

Jaune looked to everyone, his eyes heavy, “Yeah, they are resting comfortably. Though, that kid is a fighter, I used up all of my aura.”

Nora stood by her teammate to rub his back.

“We really appreciate it, Jaune. Now guys, please come in.”

The group of seven walked in slowly passing by Taiyang who was standing in the corner of the room, weeping softly. Ruby placed a hand on her father’s back.

“Alright, Dad?” Ruby whispered. Taiyang nodded and ruffled Ruby’s hair. Yang passed by to sit beside her wife. Blake reached up and kissed Yang sleepily. Blake held a bundled blanket closer to her chest and smiled happily to the rest of the gang.

“Well don’t just stand around like that you guys! No need to be nervous!” Kali said grabbing Ruby by the arm leading her to stand by Yang.

Blake and Yang laughed as the group nervously huddled around Blake’s bed. Yang gently touched the bundle which in turn made a soft gurgling sound.

“Hehe, our little guy just ate, he and Mommy are super sleepy now, huh?”

Weiss raised her eyebrows and stared at Yang, “A boy?”

Nora and Ren bumped fists, “We knew it!” Nora cried.

The baby moaned a bit at the sudden loud noise and Blake and Yang were quick to reassure their newborn son. Ruby and Weiss shot Nora a look and Ren rolled his eyes.

Blake laughed after the baby calmed down.

“Sorry, Blake. I know you’ve had a hard day.”

Blake laughed again and looked at Yang, “Nora, this was one of the happiest days of my life. He was a sucker to push out, but I would do it all again to share this moment with the person I love the most and my most prized possession, our son.”

Ruby smiled and moved closer to Yang, “So, are you going to introduce us then?”

Weiss grabbed Ruby’s arm, Ruby leaned in closer to Yang, and Ren, Nora, and Jaune linked together.

Blake unwrapped the small bundle a bit where two little, folded blonde cat ears stood up.

Weiss teared up, “He’s beautiful, Yang, Blake”

Yang smiled and kissed the small head, “Well, I mean he came from the most beautiful woman on Remnant, of course he’s beautiful.”

Blake and nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes.

“Yang, please. I love you, but please.” Blake pleaded, “Even the baby hated your joke.”

Yang chuckled, “No, he didn’t. Look at the perfect little kitten.” She said taking the small baby’s hand.

“So,” Ruby pleaded her eyes beginning to water, “What is his name?”

Blake and Yang looked at each other then to their son.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dusk Yin Xiao Long Belladonna”

[thebigqueer]

Sunlight

(Credit for the characters goes to Jeffrey Eugenides, author of Middlesex)

The summer heat has been unbearably warm, so weighted with temperature that it has forced us down onto our knees in the grass. A beam of sunlight fans over our faces, illuminating our scars and stories.

Obscure Object’s body absorbs the sunlight, and it makes her glow from within. The golden light threads itself into her red locks, creating a wall of fire that cascades down her back. She is one with the sun. I would not be surprised if she were to tell me that she was a creation of Apollo, cast down from Olympus because her beauty was too much for the gods to fathom. She could replace Aphrodite herself.

Obscure Object turns her face to me, letting a strand of fire slip over her ear and across her face. A smile eases over her lips. Her tan shoulder flashes in the sunlight. “It seriously sucks that you have to go to Greece,” she murmurs, her voice pouring over me like molten gold. “I want to take you to my summer house. We could have so much fun.” She leans into me, and against her lips I see the promise of a secret. Her mouth grazes my ear as she whispers, “And my parents won’t be around as often. Parties and stuff. We could sneak in all the booze we want.” And, as an afterthought, she adds, “Also, boys.”

I laugh and throw some dirt at her. She screeches. “Your parents are already out most of the time, and you drink more booze than any fourteen-year-old should,” I tell her, tipping my chin to the dark bottle in her right hand for emphasis.

She scoffs and takes another sip. Obscure Object is a graceful creature - every move she makes is on purpose. As her pink lips pucker against the rim of the bottle, I can only think that the booze is being sucked up for an important reason. It’s her mission. She must accomplish it.

And, for a second, a spark of jealousy bursts in my core. I want to be the bottle. I want to be the drink she sips from. I want her lips against me.

She hands the bottle to me but I shake my head and she takes it back, placing it gently at her side. “God, Callie, you need to loosen up a bit. We’re going to high school. Everyone does it.”

“Maybe you’re just a part of the herd.”

“Herd? Did you just compare me to a cow?”

“Moo.”

Now it’s her turn to throw dirt in my face. Specks of brown fly in the air as she lurches towards me, but the alcohol makes her sluggish. Her body pushes with all its might and her red hair flies, creating a halo over her hair, but I’m already three feet away from her before it hits me. She scowls in my direction, and I respond by sticking my tongue out. She groans and turns back, whipping her hair behind her. It flashes in the light again. I wonder how it doesn’t burn her as it touches down against her back once more.

I scoot over, finding that the distance between us is too much. Obscure Object’s bare shoulder brushes against mine, spreading its warmth to me. Electricity dances between us where she touches me, and I feel as though Zeus himself has struck me with a lightning bolt. I would not be surprised if he did.

Her golden fingers gingerly push her hair away from her face. Once again I am in the glory of her beauty: the freckles, the light eyes and the eyebrows. Being so close to her I can see that her face isn’t quite as symmetrical as I thought - an uneven eyebrow dances over her forehead, and I realize that she is not as perfect as I thought she was.

Which makes her even more human to me. Even more attainable.

Her eyes bear over my own face, searching across each and every crater of my skin. First my eyes, then my nose. Next my ears, my chin, my cheeks, my lips. Finally over my dark hair. She smiles again and reaches over clumsily, almost falling over my body. Her fingers graze over my dark strands. “Callie, you have such pretty hair.”

“That’s not what my parents tell me. It’s usually in my face.”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s still pretty. Like… you don’t really care.” Her fingers push my hair away from my face, and now I’m getting a clear view of her. A ripple of shock washes over me as I realize how close we are. Merely inches away from crashing into her. “But you have an even prettier face.”

“I wouldn’t really say that,” I say bashfully, turning my eyes away from her.

“I would. It’s, like, dramatic. In my face. But in a good way.” For a second, I let her words soak into my skin, allowing the warmth of them to seep into my ears. But then she takes another sip of her booze, and ice drips over me, cooling down all my systems. How do I know she means any of this when she’s getting drunk right in front of my eyes?

Her fingers detach from my hair and lay in her lap, but her eyes never leave my face. They continue digging deeper, deeper, looking into my organs, my mind, my body, searching for some secret identity. I wonder if she’s found out about me even before I’ve discovered me.

She sighs and takes another sip. The glass clashes with her teeth for a second, then she places it down again. Her eyelids flutter. “Callie, have you ever wondered what it’s like to kiss a girl?”

Now I know she’s drunk. She would never speak so openly like this, not if she were sober. Sometimes I can’t tell which version of Obscure Object is better - her dazed and doped version, or her sober and sophisticated one. When she’s like this, she becomes more free, more unlatched from the world. She becomes a new entity all together, not quite human. A new, free spirit, untethered from her mind and body and no longer in control of her actions. Reckless.

A warm blush bleeds over my cheeks. “Well, I have. When I was eight.”

She nods, but I can tell from her dazed eyes that she’s barely processing that information. “I’ve always wondered. Do you think it’s any different than with a boy?”

I consider her question, weighing my answer in my mind. “Well, maybe not. Are boys and girls so different? Aren’t we all human? Why does gender matter? All that should matter is who you’re into. I guess if you’re into girls, you’re going to like to kiss girls more.”

“Do you care if someone’s into girls, Callie?”

“Not really, no. It’s love. Why should I care?”

As she interrogates me, a bubble of hope grows in my chest. What is she saying? Is she admitting something to me?

“Interesting,” she murmurs, still staring at me. Her eyes drop down to my lips again, and I can see the gears turning in her head, considering her options. She’s calculating her next move.

She tilts her head. “Can I kiss you?”

Obscure Object doesn't’ give me a qualifier; she doesn’t say “just for fun” or “just for practice.” She only says “Can I kiss you,” as if there is no shame in doing so. A flash of light bursts in my brain, and my chest blooms with warmth. Can she kiss you, Callie?

“Yes,” I whisper.

And she leans into me, pushing her burdens into my arms. Her tan arms dangle over my neck sloppily, as if she can’t even bother to sit up. Hesitance lingers in the air, burning my skin, angering my soul. Come on. Tell me you feel the same.

Then her lips crash into mine, and the world explodes around us. I gently glide my arm over her waist and pull us into a better posture, if only to make it easier to feel her, to touch her, to be in her arms. The heat of her body scorches my skin, almost like a branding. I am no one’s but hers.

And soon we find a rhythm, dancing to a silent song. Her lips touch mine softly at first, feeling the territory, and then she dives into the ocean, ready for whatever storms are going to come. Lightning strikes my body; electricity sparks in my fingers. I’m bursting, overflowing, feeling. I want more, more, more. I want to soak her up, drink her in like alcohol, be the smoke that she drags.

Her soft lips fit perfectly into mine. Pink on pink, passion on passion. We’re quiet here in her backyard, and I suppose that’s expected - we are not meant to be known to the world, not meant to be ourselves. So we must hide in secrecy, bathe in our solitude. The world does not want us, but that doesn’t matter when we want each other.

She pushes against me, her stomach on my own, chest against chest, arm against arm. We’re melting into each other, becoming a new being all together. Our molecules separate and join again, connecting our bodies together. We are Hermaphroditus and Salmacis, becoming one body, one being, breathing to a single lung, beating to the same heart. I know her. I feel her. I am her.

Then, it all stops. A block of ice forms in my chest as she pulls away, and now I’m alone again, alone in my own body, my own mind. We are no longer one. We are separate. We are too far.

A dazed smile creeps over her features and her eyelashes flutter in the golden sunlight. “That was fun. I’m tired now.”

And with that said - without even waiting for a reply from me - she lies over the grass. The sun’s rays spill over her, golden spots glimmering over her body. A small pink smile pulls at her lips, but after a few moments, her breathing becomes steadier and the smile flashes away, giving way to her dreamscape.

And I am alone again, forced to deal with the crushing pain once more. The pain of knowing that she may never feel the way I do, may never understand the things she does to me.

The light catches against her hair once more, creating a halo of fire around her head. It burns bright against the green grass. I edge my finger closer, closer, and the flames lick against my fingertips. She is on fire. She is burning me up, turning me to ashes.

Memory is a funny thing. Two people can go through the very same experience, but one may just not ever remember it happening. Memory is subjective, and only some people have the gift of it.

Unfortunately, this means that between my sober self and her drunken being, I will carry the weight of the memory.

She will not remember our kiss when she wakes up; she will not even remember that we are made for each other. For the moment, I am her lover, but in a few hours, I will once again be her best friend.

So I lie beside her. If I only have the next few hours to pretend I am her lover, her muse, then so be it. As long as I don’t have to hide anymore.

We can be together, just for a few hours. Just for a little bit.

[coffeewaff1e]

This is my opinion on Kimi’s merch. I just wanna say that I also love this man a lot, he was basically why I fell in love with the sport itself. I’ve supported this man for his driving and interview ways but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.

The merch line I’m talking about is the one with West Coast Choppers (WCC), founded by Jesse James (JJ). Things will be hyperlinked for easy reference. This gets very long. I’m long-winded.

So in case you didn’t know, Kimi’s merch has raised some eyebrows due to certain symbols on them that could point towards the Nazi Party. Namely being his face mask and t-shirt design as seen below:

Now, where does the Nazi symbolism come in? Let me start with the face mask. On the right of “7″, there is a symbol, and it’s supposed to point towards WCC, since it is their logo (1st in collage below).

However, it is more commonly known as an Iron Cross (2nd pic below) and it has been in use for a very long time, ever since 1813 as a military decoration. Nazi Germany picked it up in 1933, with an added swastika in the centre (3rd pic below). Now compare those three and look at the logo of WCC, pretty damn similar right?

The Iron Cross, with the swastika, is still unfortunately used by and seen on neo-Nazis. It’s also recognised as a hate symbol. In the article linked, it is said that bikers adopted the Iron Cross to add “shock value” or to signify rebellion and as time went on, it became a logo used by many on clothing, equipment, etc. So we do have to keep in mind what context we see the Iron Cross in, as it’s not always representing neo-Nazism or white supremacy.

JJ has said before that his logo is actually based on the Maltese Cross (2nd pic below), and I don’t need my glasses to see that they’re very different.

Instead I think he might’ve actually been referring to the Cross Pattée (3rd pic below), which is a similar cross that at times, is mistakenly referred to as the Maltese Cross. However, it is worth noting that the Iron Cross is recognised as a variant of the Cross Pattée. (mentioned in the Wiki articles of Cross Pattée and Maltese Cross)

So, the WCC logo is a Cross Pattée, which the Iron Cross is a variant of, but definitely not a Maltese Cross, as stated by JJ. 

So now you would say, it’s a Cross Pattée, not an Iron Cross, therefore there’s no link to Nazis. I can agree with you on that, it is a stretch to connect the 2 at this point, but let me add more context as I go along in this post. Bear with me.

-

Moving on to the t-shirt design. 

“Kimi” is designed with a lightning bolt for the “K”, to represent him being fast, as seen from the t-shirt’s name, “Kimi Fast As Heck Tee”.

Though...there is also a hate symbol that depict lightning bolts, called the SS Bolts (seen below). As you can tell from the name, it’s also related to neo-Nazism and white supremacy. You might say, “both bolts (“K” and SS bolt) are different”, which I agree they are, but who in their right mind would copy it so blatantly? Would you want WCC to add another bolt? Make the base of the bolt in the “K” to be flat as well? This is already after they’ve been accused before of using Nazi symbols and having their merch outright banned for it. 

Like the Iron Cross, the bikers adopted it for themselves. So, we cannot say for sure that just because they sport this symbol, they’re bad. 

I know lightning bolts are used EVERYWHERE. Even Harry Potter had one on his forehead...does that mean he’s bad too?! No. With context provided, things can change. So if the books had mentioned Harry doing salutes with his right hand and swastikas decorating his room then that bolt would mean something...🤷🏻‍♀️y’know🤷🏻‍♂️.

So is it still a stretch at this point to say WCC/the design is linked to neo-Nazis? Yes, but the stretch has lessened a little bit.

-

We move on to just WCC and JJ now. I’m just going to straight up use these pictures lol. I don’t think there’s anything much to say for the 1st pic, it speaks a thousand words. 2nd pic, I understand it’s his friend doing something stupid but JJ seems fine with it and it’s obvious he doesn’t find it wrong, as evidenced by the 1st pic.

Now, let’s look at a bit of WCC’s merch that I found online. There are other designs I wanted to include as well but I’ll just focus on these two.

Left | Right

Do they look familiar? No? 

How about now?

The Reichsadler (Imperial Eagle), is the heraldic eagle used by the Holy Roman Emperors and in the coats of arms of Germany, even till now. Different eras in Germany had different depictions. Nazis used the ones above, with swastikas.

It is also recognised as a hate symbol, appropriated by neo-Nazis and white supremacists. In their case, the swastika can be replaced by other symbols such as the SS Bolts or Celtic Cross. In places where swastikas are prohibited, the inside of the circle/wreath are occasionally left blank.

Notice how both the swastika and WCC logo is tilted slightly, and how a wreath is being held by the eagle on the white shirt. The resemblance is uncanny, no?

Before you bring up the eagle depicted on the Great Seal of the United States, I’m just going to say, don’t. The designs are very different and original sketches of it dates all the way back to 1782. It uses a bald eagle, holds an olive branch and arrows on each leg and has a shield as the focal element.

The 2nd pic looks more like the 1st than the 3rd. Just saying.

-

I’m at the end of my comparisons. If I see everything on it’s own, without taking into account the others for more background/context, of course there’s no link to Nazis or whatever. It’s just a Cross Pattée and a lightning bolt. No big deal, right?

Bikers, which is what WCC is about, did use the Iron Cross and SS Bolts for shock value. They weren’t promoting neo-Nazism or white supremacy with them.

But now that I’ve shown you the pictures of JJ and his friend doing a Nazi Salute and other merch resembling Nazi symbols, it kinda adds up. It’s no longer a stretch to say it’s linked, it’s reasonable. I’ve given you more context, do with it what you will.

To me, WCC designs are in very poor taste since they are based on “outlaw biker culture”, who literally appropriated them from Nazis. Am I calling them Nazis? No, because I don’t know what went through their minds when they designed and approved them, so I can’t say that. I am, however, calling them really fucking stupid though, and that’s being nice. They have shown that they do not care for what the symbols represent and the history behind it, it’s being wilfully ignorant.

So for Kimi to collaborate with them? It’s disappointing for sure. For him to wear it so blatantly? I’m just gonna say he’s an idiot, because I really don’t think he knows what it means, which...might seem confusing but Kimi really doesn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to stuff outside of F1 cars. Really. I honestly think he sees things in a literal way so this collaboration to him is just with a famous person and motorcycles, nothing else. At this point, I just hope he stops wearing them and stops the collaboration.

-

So the above was the logical and rational part of me explaining why I think it’s wrong for Kimi to have those symbols on his merch. It is my opinion and my perspective.

Now here comes the irrational part of me cause I feel like it’s really obvious?

The damn crosses are so similar, like wtf Cross Pattée or not, it still looks like a fucking Iron Cross, no?? And who do we think of when we think of the Iron Cross? Then there’s the SS Bolt, which is nothing on its own but seeing WCC’s other merch with the fucking eagle holding a wreath with the WCC logo tilted, JUST LIKE THE NAZI’S, isn’t it fucking obvious?? Omg like I don’t like people “reaching” or “twisting things to fit the agenda” but this is literally fucking not. I started out trying to defend Kimi in my mind but after reading about JJ and seeing the other WCC merch designs, I just can’t.

Context/background matters!! Though it wasn’t really a good one, please refer back to my Harry Potter and his lightning scar example. 

I also liked what @mistressemmedi had to say about it here.

This post won’t show up in searches/tags so...haha fml I’m speaking into a void.

[authora97writingupdates]

Okay here's the first look at my new Harry Potter series. I'm trying to make it better than the last time.

Privet Drive was a very upscale neighborhood. Or rather, that’s how the homeowners association wanted it to be seen. They had houses of upper-middle-class proper British families. Copy and pasted houses with copy and pasted lawns, and even more copy and pasted families.

Fathers in these houses on Privet Drive often worked traditional 9-to-5 jobs. In the other cases, they worked respectable jobs. Even the retired men yet to move contributed to the community. You know, at the insistence of that community.

The mothers in each house were homebodies. They tended to their gardens. They managed their children into proper British citizens. There was the occasional wild mother that enjoyed a man’s work or disliked gardening. Or the odd father that enjoyed staying home with the children, taking a proper woman’s role in the house.

The community on Privet Drive talked about those houses. A lot. The gossip piled up alongside the letters in their mailboxes about keeping a brighter garden, or in more proper child management. All those lesser families moved out before long. Often they moved to a nearby neighborhood called DimKeep Lane.

DimKeep Lane had very little in terms of real respectable British families. As it was mostly housed by rejected Privet Drive residents, they were not copied and pasted folks. Many parents worked well enough jobs, some even very respectable even by Privet Drive. But the mother did the job, automatically making them questionable. Gardens were not a requirement, children even less so.

48 DimKeep Lane held a very unique family called the Lafayette’s. They had no garden. The family was...

That mother was...

The father Mr Lafayette was...

Oh, but who could forget those twin girls? Twins daughters that were just barely old enough for school. A pair of black-haired babbling girls who were just the cutest! Also most mysterious. At any time, the Lafayette girls were found running and playing outside.

The younger sister, Darcy, was the more bold twin. Always with dirt scrapes on her knees or elbows. Lucky for their mother that Darcy hated wearing dresses, or she would always be washing out the grass stains. Darcy often wore basic shirts and jean shorts with tiny trainers in only the brightest shades. The girl played rough with the boys, unafraid of getting hurt or of hurting others.

That’s where her elder sister came into play. Morgan Lafayette usually played with or around her sister. Morgan looked very similar- their only true outer difference being eye color and hairstyles. Morgan’s amber eyes versus Darcy’s deep indigo, Morgan’s twisted black curls and waves versus Darcy’s iron straightness. Morgan tended to dress in shirts and shorts too, occasionally deciding to wear a darker scheme.

Parents went to that child, telling her about Darcy’s antics, or about fun local parties for the family to bring food. Some parents questioned why they weren’t looking for Mr or Mrs. Lafayette before immediately forgetting that question. How confounding! Morgan pulled Darcy back from all fights, worked out peace, then threw Darcy back. Many parents were impressed at the maturity!

Morgan still got into fights. They were few and far between. Usually involved with children taller than Morgan being- to put it bluntly- assholes. Ah, to be a child again! The parents of DimKeep Lane laughed.

The girls were finally attending school. Specifically St. Grogory’s Primary School for Year 1.

The teachers were happy to accept them. Rather, they barely noticed two more children but they were happy to meet the Lafayette Twins.

Morgan and Darcy went to their first day of school with little fanfare. To be clear, fanfare happened, just not to them. Other children cried and screamed, their parents cried too. None of them wished to part ways with their parents. Some kids cried because school sounded boring.

Dudley Dursley, for example. A fat whale of a child even at age 5. He screamed and yelled about the stupid school. They wouldn’t let him watch the telly or eat candy. Petunia Dursley tried to keep his spirits up with promises of toys and his friends being there, but nothing calmed her little Diddykins down.

Her second child stayed silent just behind her. If you ever called this child her’s, Petunia’s face would shrivel like she’d eaten a bad lemon. This child was not hers nor ever would be. Little better than a freak, her nephew knew his place waiting silently behind proper respectable people.

Said boy was currently 1/10 his cousin’s size, and that’s being generous to his cousin. Clothes hung off his skin, ones that clearly had never been worn by Dudley but belonged in a rubbish bin. The glasses on his head- round and black- were already being held together by tape. His black hair was wilder than the sobbing Dudley, barely covering a giant lightning bolt-shaped scar on his head.

Harry watched the other children, curious. His aunt and uncle told him his parents died, too drunk and worthless to care for him. As he saw other children crying and their parents hugging them, Harry wondered if his parents might have done the same.

Naturally, with so little to do, Harry looked over at the collection of toys out for a distraction. He saw the two children already parted from their parents. Only a pair of twins. One playing happily with big thick building blocks, one reading a book from the shelf.

He walked over to them. Morgan glanced at him from over her book. Darcy kept playing with her blocks. Harry sat beside Morgan, peeking at her book.

“It’s about a place that has raining food.” Morgan explained. Harry tilted his head. “My book. It’s about that.”

“How?” Harry asked.

Morgan hummed, thoughtful.

“Magic.” Darcy pushed another block in place, making something like a castle.

“Or maybe science.” Morgan replied.

“Definitely magic.” Darcy argued. “I wanna have magic food!”

“No way.” Morgan dismissed. “Magic can’t make something out of nothing.”

“Then it uses water! I don’t know.” Darcy huffed. She grabbed another block.

“What do you think?” Morgan asked the new playmate.

Harry stared.

Morgan stared back. Darcy snickered. “About my book.”

“You-” Harry shifted on his spot. “You’re askin’ me?”

“Yeah. What do you think?” Morgan asked again.

Nobody ever asked Harry a question before. Usually, Harry asked the questions. The Dursley’s always yelled at him to shut up. Aunt Petunia loved to tell him to not ask questions. Nobody wanted Harry to talk more. Harry loved the feeling.

“...magic.” Harry answered. He pointed at the odd rain. “That’s spaghetti.”

“It is.” Morgan nodded. “I like spaghetti. Do you?”

“I like bowtie noodles.” Darcy cheered.

Harry shifted again.

“It’s okay to not like spaghetti. I don’t like meatballs.” Morgan assured Harry. “Darcy hates the curly kind.”

“The curly colorful kind!” Darcy corrected. “It’s different colors but not flavors! That’s stupid.”

“I like spaghetti.” Harry pointed at the picture. “Yummy.”

Morgan and Darcy smiled.

The other children stopped crying as they talked. Parents successfully distracted them with the promise of toys or friendship, or even getting one of the teachers to help distract the kindergartener. One child held out, screaming about useless school and wanting to go home.

Petunia bribed him with more sweets- something the teachers discouraged. Still, the candy got Dudley to focus on something else. He enjoyed the treat as Petunia ran off, crying herself. Oh to leave behind her precious baby!

The candy soon vanished. Dudley looked around the play area for something. He saw his best friend. He also saw his favorite person to antagonize and a bunch of toys that would suit his idea.

Morgan turned a page in her book.

“You can read?” Harry asked.

Morgan nodded. Darcy snickered again.

“Morgan reads all the time.” Darcy explained. She moved her block castle to the side, letting her add extensions. “Like a nerd.”

“What’s a nerd?” Harry asked. “Is it like a freak?” He hadn’t understood the word at all. He just knew the tone Darcy used- a disgust like when the Dursleys called him a freak.

Morgan tensed. “I’m not a freak. Reading doesn’t make me a freak, it just makes me smart. Darcy’s mad I don’t wanna play.”

“It’s why we’re here.” Darcy replied.

Morgan glared at her sister. Darcy went back to the blocks.

“No freak?” Harry asked again.

Morgan shook her head. “Do you like to read?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know how.”

“That’s okay.” Morgan started using her finger to follow the words. “The pictures work fine.”

Harry, for one of the first times since coming to Privet Drive, smiled.

Dudley stormed up. Piers Polkiss at his side, sneering at the two ungirly girls and the pathetic orphan boy.

“Do you mind?” Darcy asked. “We’re busy here.”

Dudley kicked the blocks down. Harry watched, frowning at another toy lost to his cousin. Morgan and Darcy stood up, glaring at the fat boy.

“Stupid!” Dudley yelled. “That’s a boy’s toy! Not one for stupid girls!”

Darcy leaned towards her sister. Harry couldn’t hear what was asked, only seeing Morgan shake her head. Darcy rolled her eyes, glaring harder.

“Okay.” Morgan sat back down. She picked up the book, showing it to Harry. “We had spaghetti on Saturday. It had long noodles and red sauce.”

On Saturday, Harry ate old crusty bread that Dudley threw away. Literally. Dudley had thrown it against the wall. Harry ate it, then cleaned up the smudge on the wall.

Darcy sat down, leaning against her sister.

Dudley got annoyed that the other children ignored him. “Hey! Gimme blocks!” He yanked a block up, throwing it at Darcy’s head.

Morgan caught it. She stared at the fat boy and his friend. Somehow, Dudley saw something that Harry did not. Something that made Dudley want to get as far away from Morgan as possible. A latent survival instinct, if you want.

Instead, Dudley grabbed another block to throw at Morgan’s head.

See, as a child, Dudley expected that Morgan would be unable to catch it. She already held another block and a book. Her arms were full. She surely could not take another item.

Morgan dropped the first block. She caught the second. All before anything touched her face.

Darcy snickered, still on Morgan’s shoulder.

Harry watched, awestruck.

Dudley went for a third block. Piers grabbed two, ready to throw at all the black-haired kids. They threw with a force that all children considered lethal.

Morgan raised the book, using its hardcover as a shield for herself and Harry. Darcy ducked behind her sister, two blocks in her hands.

Harry could hear Darcy whispering now.

“Can I do it now?” Darcy hissed.

“No.” Morgan replied another wave of blocks hit the book. “But save it for later.”

Darcy saluted.

Dudley reached over. He snatched the book out of Morgan’s hands. The book pages tore under Dudley’s grip. Dudley threw the book on the ground. For good measure, he stomped on it.

The twins stared. Harry frowned.

Darcy reached forward. She held Morgan’s shoulder, holding the girl back.

Dudley threw another block.

Harry moved, blocking the twins’ body with his own. The block hit him. Harry was horrifically used to it.

By then, the teachers finally noticed the two boys throwing blocks at defenseless children. They rushed to the aid of the smaller ones. Lucky for them, classes need to start anyway.

But that little brave act...To them, it was enough. It may not be clobbering a troll…actually yeah it kinda was- point is, it made a strong friendship between the three children.

[pynkhues]

I just have ask, cause I need to just voice this.. (BTW I do love the show no worry) Am I the only one who thought it was such a stupid reason that the new FBI decided that the fake money was made by women was because they used fuckin' NAIL POLISH?!! I legit sat dumfounded, I mean... wtf? What, men can't think to add nail polish to their fake money?

Haha, I get why you don’t like it, anon. As a functional plot device it’s a little hammy, but I appreciate it as a thematic plot device so much that I actually like it a lot overall. 

This show doesn’t really have a lot of recurring objects like many shows do, but when they are introduced, they usually serve as a means of underlining the gendering of spaces, crime and life, which is a theme this show is about as obsessed with as I am. I talked pretty extensively about the gendering of spaces and how the show uses them in this post (man, I should update this with the delicious new spaces in s3, because they continue all of these trends in such interesting ways!), and briefly touched on the gendering of objects too (namely Rio’s golden gun, and the dubby), but it really does extend well beyond that.

So let’s break that down a little!

(Under a cut to save your dashes!)

Functional vs Thematic Plot Devices

Plot devices take a hundred different shapes and forms throughout a story, and of course, always serve to drive narrative forwards, tell the audience something about a character, or drive home a narrative theme. Plot devices aren’t always physical – in many cases they can be a trope, expectation, lie, red herring, among many other things, but for the sake of this post I want to talk about physical plot devices.

So basically, I want to talk about the way this show uses objects.

It might not seem like it on the surface, but this is a show that uses objects as plot devices a lot. Sometimes these are obvious – the money for instance, the Boland Motors car Turner drudges from the lake back in s1, the dubby (and ho, boy, I have a lot to say about that last one, but I’ll come back to that), the guns, Lucy’s phone, etc etc etc.

While these are, of course, essentially props, this is a show that typically lends a lot of weight to them, and in particular, it lends a lot of weight to feminine-coded objects that would in other shows frequently be dismissed as inconsequential.

A pearl necklace, an old lady’s porcelain figurines, a smear of lipstick on a pen cap, a child’s blanket, a new engagement ring, a pregnancy test, vials of botox, and nail polish, among many other things, become objects of narrative and thematic importance.

When it comes to these sorts of physical plot devices, I generally separate them into two categories: functional and thematic.

Functional plot devices are ultimately what they sound like. They serve an often purely functional purpose in the story. Things like the Boland Motors car that the girls took to Canada, dumped, and then was drudged up by Turner. It was used as a means of re-directing Turner’s attention on Beth, while also revealing to Dean that Beth had been the person who’d robbed him back in 1.03. More recently too, the hockey jersey that Ruby stole was a means of ultimately giving us a fun heist as the girls scrambled to get the money to pay for Beth’s life, as well as getting us to the pawn shop where Ruby would see the pen that Sara had stolen.

Functional plot devices – at their most basic – move plot forwards, bridge the gaps between characters and accelerate the action and drama of a story.

Thematic plot devices on the other hand serve a different purpose, and are often less bogged down, I find at least, in perfect logic. While they need to do what a functional plot device does, they also carry the extra weight of underpinning character arcs and often punctuating the key themes of the story. The sled in Citizen Kane is a really good example of this – as a functional plot device it’s just a specific sled and a sort of silly thing for a multimillionaire to want when he can buy as many sleds as he wants, but as a thematic one, we lean that it’s the key thing in his life connecting him back to his childhood, his innocence and his humanity, and comes to represent the central loss of the film.

Similarly, Harry’s lightning bolt scar in the Harry Potter series serves as a functional plot device to tell us and Harry when Voldemort is near, but it actually evades logic to eschew a greater purpose – which is reiterate the theme of motherly love and protection in the story.

Sharp Objects

Good Girls uses objects this way a lot and frequently shifts them between the two purposes, and it has done that since the very beginning. Using toy guns on the very first Fine & Frugal robbery for instance, was a silly plot point used ultimately to get them into the situation with Boomer at the end, but it also thematically represented the naivety of the girls in the robbery, and Annie and Beth’s powerlessness overall, but especially in the scene with Boomer (something immediately juxtaposed with Beth hitting him with the bourbon bottle). It also works effectively as a means of showing how far Beth would come across the first season as she held a real gun at the end of it, and the further slip of her moral character and what she’s capable of across season 2 and 3.

Sometimes they seem to appear as purely functional too, but evolve into thematic ones – meaning they are enriched with weight and purpose as they transition in their design.

A good example of that is Boomer’s cell phone in 2.03 which was purely functional – serving as a means of tricking the girls into believing they were disposing of Boomer’s body, not Jeff’s, before it was pivoted in the last scene to be used on a thematic and character level. By Annie listening to Marion’s voicemails through it, it served to re-link Annie to her own humanity, and underpin her arc with Marion that would ultimately lead to betrayal, redemption, grief and guilt.

The Dubby: a quick aside

The best example though, at least to me, is, of course, the dubby. The dubby does a lot of heavy lifting on virtually every story level, and I could honestly wax lyrical about it until the end of time.

On a functional plot level, it’s there to ultimately get Beth shirking Rio’s instructions and throwing her weight against him in their partnership. It forces her to confront the fact that she views herself and Rio as equals, when the reality is – in situations like that – they’re not. It also gets us to confrontations between Beth with Dean, Rio and Ruby, as well as Annie and Ben (I told you it did a lot of heavy lifting!), served as the means to which Noah and Annie met (boo), revealed Rio’s hand emotionally, and forced Beth to face on a textual level (as opposed to subtextual level) her changing relationship with her home, with her role as a mother, and ultimately her children.

On a thematic level, it explores all that and more! Not only is it deeply, deeply symbolic of a loss of innocence (a baby blanket in a drug den!) – something that’s reiterated by the girls almost being raped in that house – but Rio’s desire, for whatever reason, to give it back to her (something actually reiterated in 2.08 when he tries to handle the baby hitmen for her) – a really, really interesting beat for a character that seems to revel in her moral decline. Rio has, I think, always wanted her to be both. Again, something that is the clearest we’ve ever seen in this episode – he wants her to own up to what she is (a drug dealer) during their fight, while simultaneously trying to restore her to a seemingly frivolous comfort as a mother. It’s complicated! And I love it!

It’s also a highly feminised object that is weaponised against Beth twice. Firstly, by Jane as a means of guilting Beth (she lost it in the drug den), then criminally (by the, y’know, criminals), and then Beth actually weaponises it herself against the woman in the craft store in a female hierarchical sense which is totally fascinating to me and feels very true of Beth as reiterating the sort of alpha woman she is.

I could keep talking about this, but let’s move on, haha.

Claws

It’s not just about character arcs though.

Thematic plot devices are also often used as symbolic touchstones to re-emphasise the key themes of the show overall, and it’s in this sense that the nail polish operates – to me – really effectively. The writers aren’t saying that nail polish is only used by women, they’re saying that it’s a feminine-coded object deemed frivolous or silly by a patriarchal society (which it is, even when men wear it), and that women can use that dismissal as a weapon.

In other words, the key through line of the show.

The girls have operated with this sensibility since the show began, acting within underestimated, feminine-coded spaces and using them, basically in a way that messes with people’s expectations. It doesn’t always work in their favour, but that’s not a bad thing, and I don’t think that that’s the story this show is trying to tell. Rather I think it’s simply trying to say that these things are active, and can be powerful and used in interesting ways. They’re not passive or frivolous as history has told us.

They’ve frequently actually tried to use female-coded objects in crime before too – namely Marion’s figurines, the secret shopping scheme, the botox – all of which failed in unique ways (all of which too were briefly entertained but ultimately rejected by Rio, and it’s interesting that a key transition in Beth and Rio’s relationship occurred around Boland Motors – a masculinised space that Beth feminised on her takeover of it – I spoke about that quite a bit in the gendered spaces post I linked to above!)

The nail polish though has been the first true, pure success of a weaponised, feminine-coded object in the crime storylines, and it’s not an accident that that has coincided with the launch of the girls’ operation and their pure success without Rio. Being able to use it to make the money has been key to representing their feminisation of the crime world and the crime space on a thematic level, and I’d argue represents a ‘full circle’ moment with the success of their returns-for-cash scheme working with Rio originally (again, a feminine-coded operation).

Like I said in my gendered spaces post – Beth, Ruby and Annie are at their strongest and smartest when they’re utilising the familiar, feminine-coded world and weaponizing it, as opposed to copying Rio’s highly masculine-coded world (one of the clearest examples of this ever on the show was this season actually when Beth realised she couldn’t intimidate Gil like Rio, but could blackball him in PTA mom mode). The nail polish is actually a key symbol of that too, and the fact that it’s identified by a female FBI agent is about reiterating the same themes. Phoebe has a chance to take down the girls and close in on them because she doesn’t underestimate that world like Turner did and Rio’s still prone to doing.

The nail polish in that sense formed not only a functional plot device (with making the money in the first place), a thematic one (the underestimation of feminine-coded objects by men), but a bridging device that makes Phoebe a real enemy to the girls. It also serves as a great narrative underscore as Phoebe removes that nail polish from circulation, not only indicating that Phoebe operates in that space as well as Beth, Ruby and Annie, because she’s a part of that world in a way Turner wasn’t, but forming a terrific narrative parallel where as Beth loses further control of her operation, she also loses control of a key ingredient which gained her that operation in the first place.

So yes! Less function, more theme, but I don’t know.

I’m pretty into it, haha.

[yeosang-jpg]

My Treasure [ATEEZ Pirate AU] Chapter Three.

"Miss Lee, would you come inside, please?"

Upon hearing her summons, Sohee took a deep breath and entered the room. She wondered what someone like Lord Lee could possibly want with a simple woman such as herself—but she swallowed her anxiety as she stepped inside his elegant office.

Lord Lee was not alone. A cartographer was painting intricate details of some islands in the Pacific Ocean on the far side of the wall. Sohee watched fascinatingly for a moment before directing her attention to Lord Lee, who was, in turn, watching her.

"Miss Lee," he said, standing tall. He was barely taller than she, but the air with which the man held himself made him seem taller. "I have just had an interesting discussion with Master Choi. Shall I tell you about it?"

"If it is my place to hear of it, Lord Lee," she replied, knowing quite well that one wrong word could cost San his life.

He seemed amused by her cautious compliance and moved forward. "I offered him the freedom of his fiancée, Eunseo Kwon, if he were to bring me back an item of Kim Hongjoon's. Have you met the pirate before?"

Sohee shook her head. "I have not. I remained here, in Port Royal, when the band of pirates attacked us."

Lord Lee nodded. "That is good fortune for you, it would seem. I have requested that Master Choi fetch me a personal item of the pirate's—a compass. It is quite invaluable, and its deliverance shall ensure Miss Kwon's release. When I send Choi to Kim Hongjoon, he will have papers regarding a full pardon to give to him, so long as he swears compliance to the Eastern India Company."

"Somehow, I do not believe the pirate Hongjoon will appreciate those letters," mused Sohee, glancing at the mural of the map again. "He is a pirate for a reason."

"Perhaps you are right. But you have missed my point."

"Your point?"

"I have guaranteed Kwon Eunseo her freedom in exchange for the compass. I am sending Master Choi letters of full pardon for Kim Hongjoon. I have not, however, promised Master Choi himself anything regarding his own freedom."

Hearing this, Sohee blanched. If San were to die, she would not know what to do with herself.

Knowing that she was expected to respond, she swallowed and asked, "And I suppose you would like something from me to guarantee his freedom? What can a woman such as myself give you, Lord Lee?"

Instead of answering immediately, the man gazed over the room. Seeing that the cartographer had finished his last few strokes on the map, he dismissed him—the door closed with a loud THUMP, which mirrored Sohee's heartbeat. She and Lord Lee were now alone.

After another moment of silence, Lord Lee said, "A simple girl like yourself is precisely what I would like. You are a woman of great beauty, Miss Lee, as well one of good manner. And when I handed you those parchments... forgive me, but I could not help but notice an absence of a ring atop your gloves."

Sohee blinked, a wave of uncertainty washing over her as she questioned, "Is this... are you proposing for me to marry you in exchange for San's freedom?"

"I am not blind. I see that you care for him deeply," said the Lord Lee, a light smirk upon his lips. "That is most unfortunate for you, I am afraid. But it might also be most opportune. If you accept my offer, you may grow to discover that there shall be advantages in your status and lifestyle because of our marriage. The same, of course, could be said for me. While this arrangement may be political today, one day, you may grow to truly love me, and I you. I would be... eager to show you that I could treat you better than any blacksmith ever could."

Sohee restrained from sighing. San was much more than just a blacksmith. "How can I be certain that you will spare him?"

"Do you not trust me?"

"It is not you whom I do not trust, but the law."

Lord Lee seemed unable to restrain a chuckle. He glanced out of the windows of his majestic office to gaze across the ocean. He waved a hand towards her as if to summon her to follow—and so she did. They took a brief moment to watch the happenings upon the harbour, the waves gently lapping at the docile shore. And then, after a minute or so of contemplative silence, the man said, "I suppose that is fair enough, Miss Lee. I shall issue another official pardon for Master Choi upon his successful return."

This statement comforted Sohee more than she believed it would, although the prospect of accepting the offer of the Lord Lee's hand in marriage was still incredibly daunting. Of course she would accept—for San, so he would live and be happy with Eunseo—but she was uncertain about what her future would entail when she would say the words.

Her silence was noted. Lord Lee turned back to her, a light apprehension in his eyes as he questioned, "Would you be willing to accept my offer?"

Sohee let her eyes trail the man... he was not unattractive, although she did wish she could see what a smile would look like upon his face. His eyes were thoughtful, but still cold...

He reached out a hand and softly laid his palm against her face. She offered him a hesitant smile and, fortunately, it was returned. Oddly enough, that smile reached the depths of Lee's eyes.

It was this that prompted her to breathe in once... twice... and then reply, "Yes, Lord Lee. I will accept your generous offer."

Her words made the man's smile deepen. "Then I shall obtain Master Choi's documents, and begin marriage preparations." His hand moved from her face to brush a lock of her deeply brown hair behind her ear. They looked at one another for a brief moment—and then Lord Lee kissed her.

Sohee was shocked at the sudden gesture, and frankly, uncertain how to interpret it. His lips felt cold, and it was only a fleeting gesture. She could not help but fear that her acceptance meant nothing to him, and that she would never truly occupy a place in his heart.

Once he pulled away, Lord Lee smiled—though Sohee felt that this too was taciturn—and declared, "This has been a very fruitful chat, Miss Lee."

Sohee nodded to agree... but then, she realised something. She would not be able to bear it if San went away again, and she was left at Port Royal with no idea if he was safe. She would sooner die than endure that torture again.

She had to say something.

"Lord Lee, if I may..."

He nodded and waved a hand to let her know it was allowed.

Taking a deep breath, Sohee interjected, "In order to be certain that San shall live a happy life, I would like to accompany him to locate Kim Hongjoon and be certain his mission succeeds. If he is to live, I would like him to live happily—and the only way he shall do that is if he marries Eunseo. This means he must not fail. I would like to oversee that he does not."

The Lord Lee's eyes widened somewhat at her request; whether that was due to fright or anger or both, Sohee could not tell. "Do you realise the danger this quest might hold? If the pirate Hongjoon were to—to sully you or anything of the sort—"

"San would never let anything happen to me," she promised, taking care to keep her voice calm. "He is more than capable of protecting me."

Sohee did not add that she could perfectly well defend herself, thanks to years upon years of training. Seeing that Lord Lee was unconvinced, she reached out for his hand at his side and gently grasped it, murmuring, "I promise you, no man will lay a hand on me whilst I am gone. Would you be able to grant me this as a wedding gift?"

The pleading with which Sohee spoke and portrayed seemed to weaken the Lord Lee's resolve. With a heavy sigh, he conceded. "Very well, Miss Lee. If it shall make you happy, I will allow it."

A great burden was lifted from Sohee's shoulders, although she took great care to mask it as she earnestly replied, "Thank you, Lord Lee. You are most kind. I shall return soon."

She squeezed his hand and released it before moving towards the exit—

"One last thing, Miss Lee," announced Lord Lee's voice. Sohee moved back to face him as he walked towards her. He held something small in his palm, but she could not yet see what.

With great care, he gently grabbed her left hand—

"No, not that one," she gasped, unable to help herself. "Please, use my other hand."

Lord Lee raised an eyebrow. "Why not the left, Miss Lee?"

Seeing that she had to explain herself, Sohee sighed and confessed, wringing her hands, "There is a scar... a jagged black bolt over the back of my hand. It has been there since I was an infant, and I do not know how I got it. It is no birthmark, and I worry that it shall... repulse you."

"Nonsense," scoffed Lord Lee, carefully removing the glove on her hand. He looked at the scar for a moment—it ran from one side of Sohee's hand to the other, and was as black as ever. It was like a darkened lightning bolt—she always attempted to cover it up, unless she was in the forge with San, and San alone.

But Lord Lee did not seem perturbed by the mark, which surprised her. It was almost as if he did not even see the scar as he slipped a gold ring onto her third finger. Softly, he said, "This is for you to wear and remember."

That was all he said, but the connotation was perfectly clear.

Sohee held San's life in her hands, and here was a tangible reminder of that.As it was, Sohee did not need any reminder. She had no intention of breaking her promise. "Thank you... it is beautiful."

"Quite like you," murmured Lord Lee, glancing at the ground. This was the first glimpse of true vulnerability that Sohee had seen from him yet.

Carefully, she slipped her glove back on before curtsying and declaring, "Farewell, Lord Lee I shall see you in a few months' time, with luck."

Without any further delay, she exited the room and left to intercept San before he could leave without her.

Sohee barely managed to catch San as he ran out of the jail, undoubtedly coming out of his last talk with Eunseo.

"San!" she cried, launching a hand on his arm.

He gasped and whirled around before sighing in relief. "Sohee, you startled me. Are you all right? What did Lord Lee want?"

"He wanted to tell me of your agreement," she said, though she was loath to address her own agreement. If she told San about her engagement, he would demand that she cancel the deal right away. She would need to tell him later on, when there was absolutely nothing he could do about her decision. "And he wanted for me to go with you on your journey, in case Kim Hongjoon gets any ideas."

San smiled uneasily. "Do you doubt me?"

"No, not at all."

"Then stay here."

"I cannot. These were Lord Lee's orders. You might get into trouble if I remain—Eunseo might get in trouble. Besides, I want to go. I would like to make sure you succeed, that you return here in one piece. Do not ask me to remain in the forge for another season while you sail around the world, facing rogue pirates and evil spirits on the high seas. I could not bear it."

San bit his lip, exchanging glances from his friend to the harbour and the gathered ships. Seeing that he was still unsure, Sohee gently put a hand on his shoulder and guided his eyes back to her own.

"Together this time. Remember? You promised me."

San sighed and stared into her chocolate brown eyes. Seeing the pleading within them, he murmured, "Sohee... it will be dangerous. The ocean can be tolerable at best, and I fear Captain Hongjoon shall be less so. You are a beautiful woman, but on that ship, I can only protect you so much."

Sohee restrained laughter and crossed her arms. She was not as beautiful as San might declare—certainly not as lovely as Eunseo, anyway. Her eyes were an entrancing dark russet, that was true, and her hair was dark and wavy, but her lips were thin, and her nose small.

And so she retorted, "Captain Hongjoon will not be a worry of mine. You have taught me how to wield a sword. And I know this quest shall be dangerous. Why do you think I am coming? I am coming to protect you."

"But—you have never been sailing before, what if you get seasick?"

"If seasickness is the best argument you have in your defence, Choi San, you are going to lose this battle," insisted Sohee, trying not to laugh. "I am coming with you. And I shall be fine."

He stared at her for another moment before raising his hands in surrender. "Very well, it seems you have made up your mind. Come with me if you like, but do not say I did not warn you about the dangers of the ocean and the pirates."

She giggled at his exasperation and retorted, "If anything, I look forward to it."

San looked at her with suppressed amusement before putting a hand gently on her shoulder and announcing, "Then we have no time to waste. Hopefully we can locate Hongjoon quickly—he is, after all, the famous pirate king."

[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 4

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

← Previous (First)

Danny floated, invisibly, back into the Great Hall, where all of the students were preparing to sleep. The memory of dripping green liquid mocked him from behind his eyelids.

What did he just do?

He just…

‘I just…’ Danny shivered.

He had only meant to get Peeves to tell him what he knew about Black. But when Peeves said those things, he just…! ‘No!’ he thought furiously to himself, ‘Don’t even start! That was YOU! YOU did that! Don’t you DARE try and blame anyone else!’

Danny shook his head, trying to clear it. ‘It wasn’t that bad. He’ll heal just fine. I didn’t hurt him too bad…’

And he hadn’t, really. A few light burns. Some scrapes and cuts. A few, admittedly pretty bad, bruises. But nothing a poltergeist wouldn’t heal from in a day-or-two. … Not that that was really why Danny was panicking, but it did help to distract him. The pulse in his core slowed; he was calming down, finally. ‘I need to focus… Peeves didn’t know anything about Black… So what next?’

His friends’ safety once again occupying his mind, he floated down to check on them more closely. At the very least, he could be nearby if something happened.

They were just moving their sleeping bags into a corner. “… Black’s still in the castle?” Danny caught the end of Hermione’s anxious whisper. “Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Ron. “It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” Hermione said, as they settled into their bags to talk, rather than sleep. “The one night we weren’t in the tower…” “I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run,” said Ron, “Didn’t realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he’d have come bursting in here.”

But while the students began to discuss how Black might have gotten in, Danny was trying to solve a different question. Was Black’s attempt to get into the empty tower really a mistake? What were the chances he’d pick “The one night” the students weren’t there… by accident? No. The opposite seemed much more likely to the teenage predator: ‘That’s WHY he picked tonight… But why did he want – or need – the dorms empty…?’

Knowing his friends were safe for the moment, Danny decided to go look around the Gryffindor dormitories to see if he could figure out anything the intruder might have been after. But even after looking through everything he could (being careful not to leave any trace of him moving things around), he didn’t have a single idea. ‘Maybe he just wanted to get in quietly so he could hide, then kill (or kidnap?) Harry in his sleep? No, then tearing up the painting makes no sense…!’

Giving up, he decided to check on the Trio one more time before morning. Floating in, he noticed Dumbledore talking to Snape and… someone he recognized as one of Ron’s older brothers. “…-we had, Headmaster, just before – ah – the start of term?” Danny had to strain more than usual to hear what Snape was saying. ‘Does he not know how to whisper or something?’ Danny thought to himself, irritated. “I do, Severus,” Dumbledore’s tone had a hint of warning in it. “First a phantasm, then Sirius Black. It seems – almost impossible – that the two could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed-”

“While I agree that, in light of our recent breeches, our security needs to be checked – I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” Danny shivered again. Dumbledore’s tone made no room for arguments. “I must go down to the dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete.” “Didn’t they want to help, sir?” asked Ron’s brother. “Oh yes. But I’m afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster.”

Danny couldn’t help but add “or phantasm” to Dumbledore’s statement – and his voice and expression were so cold when he said it that, for the third time that night, Danny shivered.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with the idea to guard Harry. After the attack on the Lady, he was watched so closely, in fact, that talking to him became all but impossible. Still, if anything, this was a relief. At least Danny knew he was safe. And if anyone wondered why Peeves would sometimes fly away suddenly (when he sensed the phantasm’s presence nearby), no one looked into it. And as the days passed on, Danny began to get used to life at Hogwarts.

That is… until the Quidditch Incident.

Danny wasn’t fond of sports himself (thanks to a bad experience as a mascot while he was still human), but he knew Quidditch (a wizard game) meant alot to Harry, who had some important position on the Gryffindors’ team. The night before a match, Crookshanks the cat kept trying to get into the boys’ room – presumably to eat Ron’s rat Scabbers. There were two reasons why this was bad. First, of course, was keeping to Clockwork’s warnings – he needed to “watch out for the rat.” The second, though, was what bothered Danny more: If the cat made it into the room, the rat would run away, the cat would chase it, and the boys (Harry) would wake up and lose sleep. Because of this, Danny spent the whole night keeping Crookshanks from doing exactly that. So that the day of the game, Danny was exhausted, and his temper was short.

… At least, that’s what he told himself caused it. There was an absolutely TERRIBLE storm that day. Danny would never understand the wizards’ determination to just… have the game anyway. Even he, who had much better eyesight, btw, could barely see the other side of the stadium! But he did have better eyesight. So he was the first to notice the approximately one hundred dementors enter the stadium. And, at least to Danny’s eyes, they were heading straight for Harry.

Danny was exhausted. He was angry. And suddenly, he was. Very. Hungry. With a roar that shook the players on their flying broomsticks, and an unmistakable flair of green light, Danny dove at the horde of black cloaked figures. He was so focused on killing and devouring his enemies – that he didn’t notice Harry fall off his broomstick.

Luckily, Dumbledore had, and he slowed the boy’s fall before he reached the ground. Danny was really lucky to have Dumbledore. There was no way he could have defeated that many dementors; that should have been Danny’s death. He only succeeded in tearing a bite out of three, and killing another five, before Dumbledore interfered. But Danny didn’t feel lucky. Because Dumbledore did not attack only the dementors. Granted, it was only aimed in his general direction; even Dumbledore couldn’t capture a phantasm AND fend off a horde of dementors at the same time. But that was the only reason he was able to get away. Danny gained a new fear that day; Dumbledore’s anger seemed able to rival even Clockwork’s. And it didn’t lessen any when Lupin informed him that the “professionals” he required to deal with this “dangerous creature” – didn’t exist.

He was the talk of the castle after that. The phantasm hadn’t left Hogwarts after all. Was this its new “haunt?” And if so, what were they to do? Were any of them safe? But he hadn’t attacked anyone yet. And Dumbledore could protect them! These were the conversations he heard – and tried not to listen to.

After he woke up, Harry had mixed feelings about his fainting: On the one hand, at least they were having a rematch. (Apparently, “Diggory had just spotted the snitch” before Danny’s wall-of-sound had distracted him – which seemed to translate to “the other team was about to win.”) But on the other hand, Harry’s broom (which was apparently an expensive one) had been destroyed.

To Danny, these three students were amazing. Twice now they had seen what he was capable of, and they still chose to call him a friend. “Well, of course!” said Harry, when he got a chance to ask why. “You protected me against the dementors – twice, now!” “Yeah, you bloody idiot! Why wouldn’t we thank you?” said Ron. Hermione nodded in agreement, smiling, the comforting time aura radiating from the time-turner under her shirt.

And Danny decided right then and there: whatever direction Clockwork’s mission was supposed to take him – he had his own priorities. He was going to help these three no matter what!

If you like this, please REBLOG!

(Updates every Wednesday until completion.)

Other places you can find this fic: Fanfiction.net/~ciestess ArchiveOfOurOwn.org/users/Ciestess/profile Deviantart.com/Ciestess

Next → ← Previous (First)

[breaniebree]

Missing Moments:

November 1981: A Werewolf Comes to Call

****** First chapter of my missing moments fanfic! If you enjoy it please take the time go give me a review on fanfiction.net and if there are any other “missing moments” you would like to see let me know and I might add them in 😊 thanks! *******

Remus stood outside of Number Four Privet Drive nervously rocking on his heels and trying to work up the courage to knock. It had been just over two weeks since his entire world had collapsed around him. James and Lily: dead. Peter: dead. Sirius: imprisoned for murdering Peter and a dozen muggles and worst of all, for betraying James and Lily Potter. He still couldn't even believe that Sirius had been the one behind everything; the spy in the Order, the one working for Voldemort. It all seemed like some horrible dream.

His best friends, his true family, all gone in the span of a week and he was only twenty-one years old.

He dragged his fingers through his golden brown hair and finally lifted his hand to the door to knock. Dumbledore had told him where he had sent Harry, explaining how it was the safest place for him. Remus agreed with him. But Harry was the only family he had left. He wanted to make sure that he was alright.

The door opened and he recognized Lily's sister immediately. He had only met her the one time at the wedding but her and her husband, Vernon had made an impression.

"Petunia, Remus Lupin," he said, extending his hand. "I was a friend of Lily and James. We met at the wedding."

Petunia merely stared at him. "You were in the wedding party."

Remus nodded, smiling. "I was. I wanted to check on Harry, see how he was adjusting to life with his aunt and uncle."

"He's fine." She said curtly, crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't really like unannounced visitors coming by the house. I'm trying to keep Dudders and our new guest on some form of schedule. It's not exactly easy to have two children under the age of two."

Remus nodded, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I understand. I'd just like to see Harry for a moment, just to make sure he's alright?"

Petunia sighed and opened the door wider, allowing for Remus to step inside. "Fine. But be quick about it."

Remus nodded as she closed the door behind him. He stood in the entranceway of the house just as the boy he was looking for came running out of the living room towards him, arms outstretched in joy.

"Unca Moo!" He shrieked, running into Remus' arms.

Remus' face broke out into the first smile in weeks as he scooped Harry up into his arms. He ruffled his black messy hair and kissed his cheek, hugging him close. He pulled back to grin at him and his eyes found the lightning bolt cut on his forehead. He gently brushed it with his finger and his eyes found Petunia's. "Is this where he-?"

Petunia nodded. "From what I understand yes. It doesn't seem to bother him."

Remus nodded. He knelt down on the floor, standing Harry in front of him and grinning at him. "I missed you, Harry. Do you like it here with your aunt and uncle?"

"No!" Harry said sternly, "I go you and Siri!"

Tears welled up in Remus' eyes and he choked them back. "Afraid not, little Prongs. This is your new home now."

Harry crawled up his body, hanging off of his shoulder as he spoke. "No, go now."

Remus looked at Petunia and sighed. "I know that he's safest here with you but hearing him … I want to keep him safe. If Voldemort ever truly does come back … we don't know for certain he's gone and Harry could be in the most danger if he ever finds out he's still alive."

"Unca Moo," he exclaimed, his hands moving across Remus' face, fingers in his mouth as he grabbed at Remus.

Remus merely grinned. He was the cutest kid. It still surprised him how much he had come to love this little boy. When he called him Unca Moo his heart literally soared. Nothing made Harry happier than when Remus and Sirius would come to visit and Sirius would turn into a dog. The 'doggie' would make Harry giggle and laugh and Remus would hold his hands as he rode the dog around. Then Sirius would turn back and Harry would laugh, begging for the Siri to make the dog come back.

Sirius had loved him. Remus could see that. How could Sirius have done this?

"Do you have enough stuff for him? Clothes and whatnot?" He asked Petunia, holding Harry close again as he jabbered incoherent baby talk in his ear.

"Yes. From what I understand, the house is destroyed so I have whatever Dumbledore brought with him," she told him. She had moved to pick up her own son, who was trying to touch the vase full of flowers on the table. He was a chubby blonde toddler who seemed to waddle as he walked.

"It was," Remus said. "I just want to make sure that he's well taken care of. He's a very special boy." He kissed Harry's forehead and Harry snuggled into his embrace.

"Slooch Unca Moo," he said and Remus kissed him again.

"I'd … I'd like to come by and see him when I can. Maybe once every few weeks or so. I can tell him about his parents and spend time with him. Get to see him grow up and become the great wizard that I know he will be."

"No," Petunia said sternly, moving to place Dudley in the play pen she had set up and crossing her arms in front of her again. "Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry?" Remus asked in surprise.

"No," Petunia repeated. "I let you in today to say goodbye to him as a courtesy. I agreed to take the boy in for his own safety but I won't have it in my house. No magic. No powers and no mentioning of an evil man who killed his parents. I will let him stay here with my husband and my son if and only if, I can give him the chance of a normal childhood. No funny business. How am I supposed to do that if you come around here and tell him these things. Absolutely not. I forbid it."

Remus stood up, Harry still snuggled in his arms. "I get where you're coming from, Petunia but … my friends, my family are all gone. Harry is all I have left. I'd like to find a place in his life. Be the uncle to him that I was meant to be."

Petunia glared at him, her hands on her hips. "Then you take him off my hands. That's the only way you can have contact with him."

"I can't take him," he said desperately. There was no way he could take Harry home and raise him safely not with his furry little problem. How could he possibly keep Harry safe when he himself was a danger to him three days a month?

"If you won't take him than thats it. Say goodbye."

Tears welled up in Remus' eyes. He understood what she wanted. It was safer for Harry if he had no contact; if no one magical even knew where he was. Dumbledore was right about that. This was Harry's family and they would take care of him. But the thought of leaving this little boy broke his heart.

But a broken heart was something Remus Lupin was used too. He had already lost everything that mattered in his life: his parents, his friends, his family. Losing Harry was in the best interest of keeping Harry safe and that's what truly mattered.

He kissed Harry's cheeks and then the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, holding him close for a hug as he spoke, "If I write to you, will you keep me informed on how he's doing?"

"No," Petunia said sternly. "Either take him with you or say goodbye."

Remus nodded, unshed tears in his eyes. He cuddled Harry close. Harry tugged on his hair and planted a wet kiss on his mouth before he sat him down the ground.

"You'll take good care of him? Keep him safe?" Remus asked her as Harry tried to shimmy back up his leg.

"He will be safe here," Petunia told him.

Remus nodded, wiping his tears away. "Thank you." He leaned down and kissed the top of Harry's head. "I love you, Harry. Be good for your Aunt Petunia. We'll meet again someday, I'm sure of it."

Harry began to cry and it took every ounce of will that Remus possessed to walk to the door as Harry screamed after him, tears pouring from his eyes.

"No Unca Moo, I go too, Unca Moo. I go too, uv you!"

When Petunia closed the front door behind him, he stood on the front porch, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Harry would be safe. Nothing else in the world mattered, especially not the broken heart of a werewolf.

***if you’re interested in reading more, please check it out: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12872363/1/Missing-Moments

[queenburd]

Game Night

9k? Nine fucking thousand words? fuck me. i never intended for this to happen. I NEVER intended for this to get so damn long winded. I am SO sorry.

Alright. Look. There’s a LOT of material here I seem like I’m bullshitting. I have had.... so many..... conversations....... about Kass on Discord. ALL of this is drawn from that. and for this, I am sorry, because it seems like I’m making up 95 percent of it. I’m not. I swear.

That said I don’t pretend to call this nightmare work canon. It’s an excuse for me to talk about Queenie a bit and get into the meat of Kass’s current.... problems, as well as the best way to grow past them, but that doesn’t mean shit 8P

En.....joy???????

Game Night

On occasion, it catches him off guard how he hardly questions the current setup of his life.

Kass is 38, now. He's spent the last two decades of his life distinctly aware of almost every detail of every monster he's come face to face to. Once they were dealt with, he'd wipe the slate clean, do the paperwork, file it, and move onto the next one. If he needed to find a solution to a problem, or find a weakness, he'd demand one instead of ask for it. He'd force a square peg into a round hole until it was effective, shaving it down by his own hand, and then he'd move forward.

He supposes that's why he doesn't find a whole lot of intrigue now, living with a person (a scip) he knows next to nothing about. Any curiosity he might have had has since been pulled out of his soul through his thoroughly scarred kneecaps.

(Taking time to ask questions could get you killed, so it was a waste of time.)

Add to that an exhausting sort of apathy towards life and existence in general, and Kass can figure out fairly easily why he's stopped thinking too hard about the situation. It doesn't really matter, he supposes. The thing he lives with has decided to house him, and there are easier ways to try to kill him, so his death is clearly not an end goal for her. She's not harming him--she doesn't even ask him to do much.

There had been an irritable itch, or concern, at the beginning, that this was all some scheme to get him to "become a nicer person" or what-have-you. You know the plot: be nice to a kicked puppy, feed it a couple times, and watch it become a loving companion. She'd be sorely disappointed, Kass knew, and it wouldn't last long, but by that point he'd figure something out and it would be fine. She'd eventually report to Simon, who would clearly be in on the "get Kass to be nice" scheme, that it had failed, and maybe he'd finally be left alone.

The demands he had waited for never came. May had never sat him down and told him to change his tune. Occasionally, Kass would leave his boots out in the middle of the room, or ditch his dishes by the sink, and expect some comment. At most, he'd come into the kitchen later and find her cleaning them as she made dinner, or his shoes would be moved, and she'd mention that she was on a cleaning spree anyway, but "try not to make a habit of it, okay?"

He had pushed his luck, sometimes. When he could find the energy, could muster the attitude, he would be an incredible ass. He would insult her to her face, he would leave his cigarette holder on the coffee table and drink the last of the milk before she could make breakfast.

And May never even seems to even flinch.

There are some days she seems short on patience, and when Kass pushes her on those days she might snap at him, or her sarcastic responses could come off sharper and meaner than she'd intend. Kass would think to himself, finally, we're getting to familiar territory.

And then she'd pull back, apologize, try to explain that she wasn't feeling wonderful, and move along. It unsettles him.

He doesn't really know how to get under her skin. There are some comments that seem to almost get there, comments about how young she looks or her caw of a laugh, but she'd make a joke right back about it, make fun of herself, and then Kass would feel like he'd made no progress. There's no point in mocking a person who laughs at themself right alongside you.

It feels, to him, like all he can muster these days is apathy towards everything, or a frustration that things can't be like they were before. He feels--powerless, he supposes, and tired, and most of the time numb, and when he's not numb he wants to be angry. He wants control of some kind.

And he can't have any control, because Kass knows nothing about the one person who he's around long enough to consider someone he can use.

Maybe it's his fault for never asking. It isn't particularly like May is a secretive person--she tends to wear her heart on her sleeve. Maybe she doesn't have much use of secrets.

They get along fine, he supposes. On occasion, he will be smoking with the kitchen window open, and he'll spot a familiar back lightning strike across the fence, unmoving. Watching. He takes the time to flip it off and gets back to his smoke, but the distance is more than enough to keep his skin from crawling the way it used to. May will make her presence known through the front door a moment later and Kass will look to the kitchen door, and when he looks back to the fence, the bolt is gone.

After she hands him Frank one cold night, the apathy starts to withdraw a little. Not a lot--there's still so much looming awareness of his obsolescence as an ex-agent--but enough for Kass to look at himself in the tiny bathroom's mirror and think, Christ, my hair's a wreck. That's--that's funny, because he hasn't thought something like that for what feels like years. He hasn't looked at himself in the mirror with much more than disinterest or general disdain for his entire existence.

One afternoon, Kass goes out, and buys himself a razor. He comes back to 3, Tesla Drive, locks himself in the upstairs bathroom, and doesn't come out for almost a half hour.

He comes out with his goatee trimmed back into shape, grabs his roommate by the wrist sharply, and says, "You can draw a straight line. Get the back where I can't see."

To her credit, she catches on quick as she can, and while the top of his undercut is still on the long side, Kass looks at his face in the mirror and almost recognizes the person blinking back. Maybe the lines of his face seem deeper. The shadows under his eyes seem a deeper purple than they'd once been, and his cheekbones seem a little sharper.

But he sees them, now. He didn't see them before. He didn't look. Didn't try.

Awareness starts to return. He sings awful songs in the shower. He bickers with Frank over stupid, unimportant shit, and he still drinks and he still wears his trenchcoat, but May will send him stupid cat videos and he'll audibly snicker. He finally finishes Saints Row 4, and the DLCs, and puts down the game. He's got a lot of time on his hands, he finds.

He starts to pay attention. He goes on walks. He ventures out of his bedroom to sit in the living room with his laptop and leaves windows open to let cold fresh air in.

It seems... stupid. It's not exactly a huge shift from what Kass was doing before, nor is it a change in his personality or his actions. Yet it's less of his being on autopilot, and more of him finding small satisfaction in the actions.

Frank tries to comment on it, from time to time. Kass doesn't have much in the way of a response or retort other than a quipped "no idea what you're on about, BB-8."

The point is, Kass finds himself questioning things again, having more than a passing thought about a subject. He's nowhere near where he could be in terms of interest or enthusiasm, but he's thinking like he used to. He's looking out for himself, keeping his best interests in mind, and that means knowing more about the situation he's in, and any factors he should be aware of that might pose a threat to him.

It's a start.

-

Rain comes down in sheets on the house, winter slipping into spring in an uncouth manner. Kass kicks off his boots he'd wiped on the mat to little avail, pushing them aside with his striped sock as he shudders hard. His head is cold, the shaved sides proving little defense against the storm, and he sheds his coat to hang it on the door's hanging peg to drip-dry.

"When one feels like a duck, one is happy, my arse," he mumbles to no one in particular.

"What did you say? Didn't quite catch it," Frank replies as he is pulled out of the coat pocket, blessedly dry. Kass makes a little sniff of a noise, examining the PDA to be certain no water slipped into the thick plastic's seams.

"Nothing."

He pushes a hand through his hair as he crosses through the living room and into the kitchen, and then pauses and retraces his footsteps, to the couch, where the lump is snoring softly, now, at 4 in the afternoon.

Skeptically, he checks the whiteboard schedule, and yes, May is at this moment supposed to be at her midday shift, which would be ending in the next half hour. Here she is instead, looking worse for wear, her glasses on the arm of the sofa.

Hm.

Kass opts to ignore the little comatose bundle. He putzes around the house, stealing the pack of oreos from the pantry and his laptop from the bedroom, and settles into the recliner in the living room with two cookies already stuffed fully into his mouth. The snoring is not distracting, for how soft it is, so when he pops his seat back and pops open Plague Inc, he zones it out.

So it's not the ceased snoring that has Kass looking up from his game (which, unfortunately, is not going in his favor in any way) but the tiny whine that May makes as she stretches and uncurls herself from the blanket. She arches her back and then relaxes again, squinting at him in a worn, confused way.

"What."

"Y'got crumbs."

Oh. Kass scrubs his face with the end of his sleeve, brushing crumbs out of his beard. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

May struggles to sit up from her little bundle with a grimace. "I felt like shit this morning, so I called out. Could tell I'd be more of a hindrance than a help if I went. Pass me a cookie?"

He tosses an oreo, and it thuds off the back cushion of the couch onto her chest, shedding crumbs. May tilts her head, lips pursed, before she nods. "Didn't mean that literally, but okay. Thanks."

"Any improvement?" Kass asks, disinterested, popping another cookie into his mouth.

"A little. Not much. I just feel exhausted and useless, I guess." May sticks the cookie into her mouth, munching quietly, and then reaches behind her, and slips her glasses on. "I. I also think I might be stuck here."

He snorts, watching her try once, twice, to pull herself up, and fail each time, and then balances his laptop on the arm of the recliner. "Stay put."

Kass stands, and slips into the kitchen. When he returns, May is peeking at him from over the couch with clouded curiosity.

"Wassat."

"That is Irish cream and root beer." He hands her one of the glasses over the couch, sipping his own tall glass and moving back round to close his laptop and drop beside the small girl. He grabs the remote and flicks on the TV.

"Why is alcohol your go-to for bad moods. This is a horrible coping mechanism."

"So, I should drink both glasses myself then?"

May curls defensively around her glass. "No. This is mine."

"That's what I thought."

She nurses the glass while Kass flicks through Netflix near-thoughtlessly, bored. "I should really get up and cook dinner...."

Kass tsks, flicking down. No, no documentaries, no thrillers this evening, thanks. "I'll order a pizza. Stay put, princess. Hey, Frank, what're you in the mood for tonight?"

"Hm! Well, the boys were watching the wonderful new version of, oh, what's his name, Billy Niel?"

"What, with my card? Don't do that."

"Bill Nye, Frank. Fine, Bill Nye Saves The World it is."

"Kass, do not use my card to buy pizza, payday's not till next week."

"Would you shut it, birdy." Kass drops the remote, and squints impatiently at his couchmate. "I have two secret bank accounts I've managed to keep funneled funds from Foundation days,I don't exactly need you to--"

"What."

"Oh, what now."

"I've been giving you my own money for groceries!!!"

"Yes. And it's very handy petty cash for cigarettes, thanks for that."

May stares at him for a long moment, face scrunched up in dramatic disbelief, and then slowly, intensely, raises a middle finger. Kass laughs hard enough to start a coughing fit and raises his phone to make the order.

An hour later, they're digging into a meat-lover's pizza and their third glasses of spiked soda. Kass has opted to bring the whole bottles out, set on the edge of the coffee table besides the open pizza box. He watches May in his peripheral vision, as she picks the loose pieces of bacon off her slice and pops them into her mouth.

She's not drunk--Kass hasn't given her nearly enough alcohol for that. He's never really seen her drunk, but she does get giggly and at ease. It's the ease he's looking for.

It's been a while since he's had an ulterior motive. He's probably a bit rusty, but Kass is, quite frankly, sick of being in the dark about the people he's around, when they have all the facts about him. So when he tops off her glass with an extra kick of the Bailey's, he asks without any change in his tone, "How the hell does a literal figure of royalty end up working retail?"

"Same way an ex-SCP agent ends up living in her house," May shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him immaturely. "Are we asking questions now?"

"Is that illegal?"

"Like you ever do anything legal, buzzboy." She dives into another slice, sucking the crumbs off her fingers and thumb. "I'm just saying," the girl continues, gesturing with the cup a bit, "You've been here like, what.... two months? And I'll admit I was expecting it way earlier."

Kass sits back, unsettled. She's done that thing again--he hates it--where it's almost like she can see right through him, and she never makes a big deal out of it, and it makes the back of his neck itch. How does she do that? Is he that obvious? Has he gotten that bad at this?

"But, I mean, it's fine. You're an adult and I don't mind, ignore my snark. Actually--" He's caught off guard by the finger pointed in his face, "Let's play a game!"

"I don't think I want to play a game with you."

"Hush. Here's the game. Back and forth questions about each other--you ask one, I ask one, you know. Until somebody wants to stop. And--" she says emphatically, "before you get all zip mouthed on me--"

"Zip mouthed?" Frank asks at the same moment that Kass mouths the phrase in utter horror.

"Zipper mouth. Like in cartoons?"

A blank stare.

"Christ--tight lipped, s'at better? Before you get all tight lipped on me, you can pass on a question. I get that lying is second nature for you, but honestly, there's no need to--if you don't want to answer a question, then just say 'pass'. Other person tries a new question."

May chews for a moment, and then smiles with a full mouth. "That's not so bad, right? Sound like something you want to try?"

Kass feels the tension in his spine--it had been mostly relaxed up to the moment he'd been called out for what he'd been doing. It feels like looking into the mouth of a trap--he's not stupid enough to stumble right into it without staring it right in the teeth first.

"I'd rather not. There is an opt out option here, yes? You imply there is an opt out, and I think I have better things to do with my time than let you prod me with--" he wraps his index and middle fingers around the phrase-- "personal questions."

Her smile becomes a full-cheeked pout, before May swallows and says, "I mean, nobody's forcing you into anything here. This isn't a contract or something. I just figured... you probably have a ton of questions but don't know how to ask them." Her shoulder goes up in a half shrug. "You're the kind of person who will try to get information subtly so the other person doesn't know you're giving it, but I'm offering. It's easier like this, isn't it?"

Hell--again?

Kass looks away from her, at the screen, unseeing. The part of him that's been waking up again--the one that is aware he's sitting beside a scip, and knows how dangerous that is--is trying to tell him to run. He's trusted that voice for so many damn years when he didn't trust anything else.

But it's just not as strong as it once was. The apathy, and more importantly, the curiosity and interest, they are stronger than that voice for now, because--

He's not an agent anymore.

"This is an incredibly boring game you've designed--at least make some stakes if you want my interest, bird."

"Oh?" May asks, curiously. "What stakes?"

One last effort to make her back out before him.

"Make it a strip game when someone passes--"

"No? Are we fourteen and dating? Are we two idiot children in a bedroom with the door slightly ajar because of parents? No, christ." May snorts loudly, shaking her head. "Don't be a teenager."

"Then make your game more interesting or I'm going back to an actual game with real stakes." Kass downs his glass, and looks at the empty thing, mouth a thin line.

"Hm. Is there enough alcohol in that bottle for a shots game?"

He lifts the bottle in question, weighing it. "Er--maybe. Shot when a person passes a question?"

"That sounds fair, yeah?"

A voice chirrups before Kass can reply. "This sounds like fun! Can I play?"

"How is that supposed to work, then, Frank?"

"Yeah, um, I would say two people questioning me is a little less fair than one."

Frank pauses as though in thought, and then chimes pleasantly, "Well, I suppose if you ask Kass things and he decides to lie, I can just correct him for you."

Kass blinks, taken aback, and then turns the PDA, mic down. "Stay out of this, Frank."

"Oh, let an old man have some fun!"

May laughs behind her fingers, cheeks round and pink. When she finally regains her composure, she grins at Kass again, knees pulled up to her chest. "So? Are we playing?"

Kass gives her a dead stare for a moment, and then huffs out through his nose.

"Fine. I'll bite."

She settles against the couch arm, apparently pleased, and gestures at Kass vaguely. "Okay then. Ask your first question."

He's put on the spot. He's not one to freeze in headlights--self preservation has always assisted in that, but Kass again finds himself thinking how ridiculous this all is. This--everything about this is bizarre.

"Come on, don't close off on me now, dude."

"Fine, fine, give me a bleeding moment to think, won't you?" Kass snaps, busying himself with refilling his glass. "Right, okay, I suppose I'll ask again. How does the literal ruler of birds end up working in retail? Is it for shits and giggles?"

"Pff," she starts, "like anybody would work retail for giggles. I, mm." The girl shrugs, "I gotta make money somehow. I mean, I don't necessarily need to, I was just staying in bird form and had physical nests for a while, but I was always saving up and working odd jobs. I was saving for.... years, jeez."

She stretches in place, continuing, "I wanted to be, yanno, a person, and having a house is way more comfortable than a nest or having an apartment. So I've been working for a while--I just don't make a big deal about it, yanno?"

Then May hums, settling back. "Hope that was a decent enough answer. Gotta fake being a person somehow. My turn."

Kass waits, avoiding her gaze by staring at the screen, and doesn't really relax when she says, "Okay, here's my question."

"Shoot, pipsqueak."

"How old were you when you joined the Foundation?"

Oh. Diving right in, apparently.

Kass scratches behind his ear. She's got balls, he supposes. It's an innocent enough question.

"About seventeen or eighteen--probably closer to the latter. It was less of me joining and more of them grabbing me by the scruff of the neck while I'd been hostel jumping cross country."

There's a followup question in her face--he answers it unprompted. "I was scip hunting on my own until they turned up. I was good at it too--good at staying alive, at least."

He does not expand further--it goes into a sort of unpleasant territory. Normally, Kass wouldn't mind bringing up further details, watching people squirm, but--

The memory of Pickman's hand raised to strike, and he had been maybe twelve, and--

He didn't particularly want to think about it.

Whatever the case, he's answered the question. The girl across from Kass is waiting expectantly, smiling crookedly with her arms wrapped around her pulled up knee. He took another swig of his glass and then set it on the coffee table, turning his body to face her.

"Alright, tweety bird, explain the things you can do to me. I know you're a shapeshifter, and I know you can do some party tricks, and I'd like a clearer picture of the kind of thing I'm dealing with."

"He comes out and asks!" May says dramatically, throwing a hand in the air. "By jove!"

"Hey, you overgrown tit, this was your idea. Mockery doesn't suit you as well as it does me," Kass remarks sharply, ignoring the tsk from the PDA. "Shut it Frank, a tit's a kind of bird."

"Just because you say it is, does not make it true."

"Nope, nope, Kass is right, there's an entire species of bird called tits," the girl says with a bit of a cackle. "Are you proud of your pun, Kass? Be proud."

Her smile is almost too wide for her face--it's like nothing ever bothers her. Nothing gets under her skin. When she finally talks, it's without restraint or discomfort.

"Most of my abilities are healer and protector based--every queen kind of goes for a theme, I guess." She holds up her fingers, adding one as she goes. "I can heal from.... basically any damage, no matter the severity. I can, um, transfer other people's wounds to myself, which will still heal in record time with light and heat. I can produce shields, I can turn into multiple bird forms, I can see potential energy, mm. Supposedly I have creation magic, but I've never really tried it out."

Kass squints at her. "Why not just call yourself a phoenix?"

"I mean, I suppose I am, but phoenixes are more Greek in origin and the crown is more Egyptian based? Semantics. Plus, I don't like being a phoenix when I can be more unassuming. Oh!" May said suddenly, lighting up. "Also! I'm a major empath."

"....what."

She grins, the smile a little more conniving around the edges than Kass would like, as pieces slide into place far too smoothly.

"Oh, titfuck. You're completely serious."

He's met perhaps a couple empaths before, safer locked up Scips that just had a strong tendency to unnerve people. He hadn't liked it then, either.

"Sorry, dude. You might be unreadable to most everybody else, but I can pick up your tension a mile away."

Kass makes a small, aggravated noise, and pinches his brow hard. A fucking empath, he should have realized far earlier what he was dealing with, but the level of numbness had gotten in the way, and hell, it's painfully obvious in retrospect. He remembers, vaguely--

"Can I ask--what's eating at you?"

"You can deny it as much as you like, but I know what it looks like when someone's considering lying down in the road as a legitimate option."

She had known, this entire time. Maybe the kid isn't a mind reader, and maybe she doesn't always get it right, but Kass is suddenly very clearly aware of his mood, and his frustration, and his numbness that he's felt for months.

May curls up, her knees pressed to her chest. "Hell. I'm sorry man--if it's any consolation, I try really hard to give you space, I try to not intrude other than to.... be nice when you don't seem well."

And is that a consolation? It's not a major one--it feels like she has the upper hand on him.

Well.

Kass decides, very maturely, to scowl, and down his entire refilled spiked drink in a single go. When he finishes, he sets the empty cup back down, and wipes his mouth on his sleeve with all the energy of a pissy rooster, filled with too much energy. "Right. Well, now I know, don't I, Jean Grey."

"Oooh, an empath with the name Phoenix, that's a double whammy, nice." May blinks at him above her knees, smiling in what seems to be a conciliatory manner. "Please don't be too mad?"

"I'm not mad, christ, what am I, your dad?"

"You seem mad," she replies, a touch quieter. "Or at least pretty annoyed. I'm really sorry--I can't exactly control it. It's a passive thing, it's always going."

"I'm fine," Kass says sharply, as though it's not--well, not her he's speaking to, but someone who knows when to quit. "Just ask your damn question, princess, it's your turn."

The girl seems caught off guard, as though she had expected him to have an outburst, or, more likely, end their little stupid charade. When she speaks again, she clears her throat to strengthen it.

"Y--You said you used to go cross country. What are some places you visited, both as an agent and as a teen? Any favorites that stick out?"

His mouth still feels pinched in unpleasant ways, but Kass massages his jaw. "Give me a second to think--Frank, did you have any favorites?"

"Oh, me? Well, I suppose I was just quite happy to be out of my cardboard box, but if I had to choose, I thought some of the upper east coast was lovely! It was, oh, where was it--Vermont, that was it!"

Kass is pulled out of his mood, caught off guard. "Vermont? The Brunswick one? Really?"

"Very relaxing, if I recall. A quick discussion with the natives patched up the whole thing, didn't it?"

"Right, you would look at it like that." He looks up, and May is blinking at the pair of them in curiosity and wonder. "Right. Well--I was kept mostly on this half of the continent after recruitment. Before, though, I had started out in southern California and worked my way northward and eastward, I suppose."

Kass rubs his chin in thought, and continues. "I bused, hitchhiked, and took trains when I could, to Chicago. Made some pit stops--visited San Francisco once."

She lights up then. "It sucks, right!?"

"Oh, absolutely, awful prices for shit food and atmosphere."

"Oh my god, thank you. California's a damn nightmare, it's so hot."

"It's terrible."

She laughs a little. "God, I lived in the Bay Area for most of my life, I hated almost every second of it. What a wasteland."

"That's where the orphanage was, you know. St Andrew's Children's Home was in California. Of course, it was closer to the mountains, where snow actually existed."

"California snow. An oxymoron if I've ever heard one," May shakes her head in disbelief. "Jeez. You're up."

Kass steeples his fingers, eyeing his roommate, the side of his mouth drawn up. He can't tell if it's a scowl or a smile. He still feels on the edge of uncomfortable, displeased with being so easily read. He's uncertain if he can salvage this, bring the odds back in his favor.

Finally, he settles on pursuing his previous route. Kass points his pressed together fingers in her general direction.

"You clearly talk about a time before being the queen, so one has to assume you were just a human before. How did you become the queen, with all these powers?"

May's smile turns into a sort of pursed, uncertain expression. She looks a bit at war with herself, and Kass waits, watching carefully as she sits upright from where she'd been prone.

"Sorry, give me a sec, I'm trying to figure out what I can and can't tell you." When she's finished readjusting herself, she nods once as though coming to a compromise. "Okay, this is a bit of a story."

He sits back and waits.

"When I was in college, I went abroad to different parts of Europe. I had always loved mythology and stories," May explains, gesturing a little bit as she speaks. "At one point, I found this story that seemed.... expansive, but underdeveloped? As though there were missing details, vague notations. And I started looking for these details, and the more I looked, the more it became almost a treasure hunt. I followed it--I'm not one to do things halfway."

May isn't looking at Kass; she's not looking at anything, really. She's fiddling with the necklace absentmindedly.

"I found the crown, and--the story had told me what to expect, but it wasn't like that at all, it was so much more. It's alive, a living thing, and it looked at me, and it said I had to earn it. So I did."

May refocuses on him, and smiles a little sheepishly. "It--well, this part's a bit unpleasant--it basically ripped me apart and remade me into this. It made me into something that could endure pretty much anything in the world. I know that's not very clear, but I can only say so much about the process other than how I got to it."

Kass squints. "You followed a story and found a priceless relic?"

A sheepish nod.

"Christ. You're all living in a fantasy land. You're a Disney protagonist."

She snorts quietly, and her smile is small. "My turn?"

"Yeah, shoot."

She fidgets a bit, looking round the room, and refocuses on him. "Okay, um, disclaimer. Simon's an enormous blabbermouth, even though he means well."

Well, yeah, Kass knows that. He hates it.

"He told me about the whole thing with O'Malley--mentioned it, really. I never prodded it, it wasn't my business, but I was wondering if I co--"

"Pass," he replies darkly, already grabbing the creamer bottle by the neck and drinking it straight.

"Okay. That's fair. Sorry, let me think of something lighter." A few beat pass, before she follows up. "Okay, here's a stupid one for you. Favorite season?"

Kass snorts as he screws the bottle cap back on. "You're right, that is a stupid question."

"I don't see you going to drink."

He harumphs. "...If I've got to choose, then fall. Early fall, before it gets cold enough to freeze your ass right off."

May hums in response. "That is a very pretty time. All the leaves, and just the stillness."

"....Yeah," Kass says. "I suppose."

"S'your question. Take your time, no rush."

Kass thinks for a few long minutes. In the short time they've played this game, he's learned a hell of a lot, and most of it more concerning than calming. It's not everything, though, and some answers have caused more questions. For example:

"Alright. Riddle me this, Pidgey--if you're an empath, and you know the kind of person I am, with multiple somewhat reliable sources, then how in the hell have you maintained your temper. How are you so damn bleeding patient and, christ, altruistic? Don't you get sick of it?"

He's not really looking at her as he asks, more involved in his own gesturing and his own mild self loathing. Between them, he can hear Frank gently chiding his snappish tone. "Kass..."

When Kass finally looks at May, he is caught off guard by the expression on her face. It's comical disbelief.

"Bitch.... I am the angriest person I know!"

"Wh--"

"I am so angry all the time!!! I work in retail! I get mad about fictional characters! Loud noises are upsetting and don't even get me started on screaming children. I got mad about rompers the other day, Kass. Rompers. I hate them so much. Does this look like a patient person with a good temper?"

"Oh my word," Frank says, and Kass can't help himself from laughing, hard, like barking, so caught by surprise at her outburst.

"Angry birds isn't just a game anymore Kass!"

"Oh my god."

May sits up aggressively, pointing a finger in an accusatory manner at him.

"You think you're the worst? I've had roommates leagues worse than you! Leagues! You think you come even close to the medal for grossest, or rudest, or most infuriating? Bitch, my college roommate rented an apartment with me and within four months, made sexual advances on me, never apologized, lost his job, and didn't pay his portion for the last month of rent. He lied about getting me the money for three weeks, and avoided me the fourth. And then!"

She throws her hands into the air, absolutely incensed. "When I moved out and the leasers cleaned the place, they sent me pictures of the mess he left behind. Including, I shit you not, numerous, still dirty and used, sex toys."

".....No. No."

"Yes!" May squawks. "You could try for centuries and never reach the level of disgust I managed to gather for that man child! Do not flatter yourself!"

Kass, equally horrified and amused, flinches away as she kicks childishly in his direction without much energy behind it. "Alright, okay, calm down, chrissake."

She huffs, and then releases all the energy she's gathered from her chest, coming down from her intensity. "Like, yes, I try really hard to be nice, and give people a hand. That just comes naturally to me. But I'm also super impatient and I have my limits to what I'll tolerate. As you can see, however," and May gestures aggressively again, "It's a very skewed, curved limit. You're better than anything I've dealt with before. Take from that what you will."

She is still making a face when she settles, of utter disgust, and then she shakes her head rapidly as though to clear it. "Christ. Sorry. That guy was just. Gross."

"I've gathered that, Tweety. Do yourself a favor and take a breath, why don't you. It's your go."

She does take a breath, and releases it in a raspberry noise through her lips.

"Good lord, young lady," Frank says, seeming a touch harassed. "You worked yourself up something fierce."

"I like to swear, Frank. Don't tell me you're not used to it."

"From him, yes. Not from you."

"Psh. Don't you start judging me, sir."

That had been something to see, certainly. Kass settles back, smirking, hands behind his head.

"I don't like that face you're making," May grumbles.

"It's still your turn.”

"Oh. Right."

She makes a small huffing noise, relaxing. Kass watches her brows furrow in thought as he waits.

"Okay," she starts, "Here's an easy one for you. When's your birthday."

Kass pauses. Scratches his nose. She's waiting for him to respond, and he figures, well.

"You know? I don't actually know."

"Wh--"

"Hey, Frank, do we have a general date on the calendar for me to celebrate being alive on this hellscape one year longer?"

"Actually," Frank says, sounding mildly surprised. "I can't say we do. I... hm, give me a mo, here." There's a beat of a pause as the PDA flicks through itself slowly. "No. No birthday dated here. I know my memory's not the most trustworthy, but I would--I know for a fact I'd have noted it if you'd told me."

"Ah, well, there's your answer. I've never been one for special occasions, in any case." He shrugs, rolling his shoulders.

"You... you're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Don't know it."

"But..." May seems at a loss, and then she straightens, disbelieving. "But you have to have had something on your paperwork. For like, everything--IDs, social security, Foundation file work."

"They're all made up, Magica. The IDs have been fake since my files burned down in the fire." Kass waves a hand. "I've never had an interest in finding the real date. Not much to celebrate, clearly."

"Oh."

May gets quiet. He watches her frown, relaxing back into the cushion with an air of uncertainty.

"It's my turn, yeah?"

"Oh--yeah, go ahead."

Kass sits up, reaching again for the root beer and creamer. "You mentioned college a couple times, before you became queen. Tell me about life before you went abroad."

"Pass me the bottle."

"Hm?"

"I'm skipping the question, pass me the creamer."

"Oh," Kass says, offering the bottle by the neck. May grabs it and tips it back, swallowing a mouthful and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. That's the first question she's skipped tonight.

"I'm not gonna answer any questions about things like family or childhood. I'd like to go on the record and say that. Try again, bud."

He purses his lips as he takes the bottle back. "Fine, then. Just college. What was your major? Did you finish after you got crowned? Christ--how old even were you?"

"That--That's more than one question, dude," May says, smiling crookedly.

"Sue me, I'm just trying to get a grasp on the situation."

"It's fine." She waves it off, accepting the refilled glass Kass offers her.

"I was... shit, I think I was nineteen when I found the crown? I'd been in college two years. I'd been majoring in illustration--yes, I was an art student, stop snickering," she snaps, kicking his hip gently. "God... I think this was five years ago? I can't be sure. I stopped aging. It stopped mattering."

She stares at the contents of the drink, and Kass finds she's not smiling.

"I'd gone abroad because I'd been kicked out of my family's house. I'd been running from a lot of things, and when I found the crown, it gave me an out. I could be... an entirely different person, I could look and be however I wanted to look and be. So. I did."

A deep inhale, and then she downs about half the glass in one go. "Forgive the tragic backstory, I'm not much one for it. I try not to look back too much on that stuff, that life and the person connected to it is pretty much out of the picture."

"Don't miss it?"

She shrugs. "Every so often I'll miss maybe a homemade meal I never got the recipe for, but that's kind of about it. The internet solves that in a heartbeat."

"Good," Kass says, grinning. "I'm not one for sob stories."

"I figured as much," May replies, smiling back. "Good to keep going?"

"I can go a couple more rounds." Kass tips his own glass back. The creamer is a strong kind of alcohol, though the root beer punches through it a bit. He feels pleasantly warm, but not at all drunk.

Then again, his drink of choice is whiskey. Kass knows how to get drunk.

"So, I mentioned earlier that Simon is a blabber mouth?"

"Not another one of these," he says, a touch snappy.

"Hear me out, okay?" May is hesitant, cheek scrunched up. "He told me about Jumanji, and. Um. Pickman. And I'm not asking about that!" she corrects hastily. "I just wanted to ask about--The Foundation in general. What it was like. Was it all like him? The system, the individuals?"

His gaze flicks between her and the mostly empty Bailey's bottle.

She's not asking about him, Kass in particular. She's not asking what happened to him, what Pickman was like and what Pickman would do. If she had, he'd have finished the bottle, and called it a night.

He doesn't really need to play this game anymore. He's gotten what he was looking for.

Kass thinks.

He makes a decision.

He's not an agent anymore.

"Pickman was a good face for the Foundation. He was--" He cuts himself off, starts over. "Look, Pickman was an ass, and I hated his guts, but he was right about dealing with monsters, and, more importantly, dealing with idiots. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to get to a scip's soft points, and people weren't much different."

Kass presses his fingers to his temple.

"The Foundation thrived like that. They weren't all as harsh as him, but they were hardly any different. We were trained to do what we could for civilians, but in the long run, it didn't matter. To the Foundation, civilians are like..... cattle. We'd keep the wolves away, but cattle was too dumb to really be cared about. If a cow died, well, there's plenty more, just clean up the corpse."

A flick of the wrist, a sharp gesture like waving off a bug.

"Most agents tried to view each other with some level of respect. We got spoon fed "you're smarter and better than the rest, and you're going to survive" in the beginning, and we ate that shit up. We were told we'd be taken care of, that we deserved it."

May is quiet. Frank is quiet. Kass keeps going.

"We figured out the scheme fairly quick. I found out quicker than most. I didn't try to make friends--we were all going to die because of something like you, anyway. We'd be handling things fine, and then a Keter would show and in four seconds, a team would be gone, and it didn't matter. It's not as if those higher up on the chain were risking their necks beside us, we meant little more than D-Class did, but we got to smell fresh air and do something."

It's bizarre, looking from the outside in. He's spent two decades an agent, and he used to be proud--he used to be like Dib. He used to wonder, to be curious, but none of that mattered when you just wanted to get to tomorrow, to the next bullet, to the next drink, to the next file.

"...it was something, though," he finishes. "The first few scips, the first couple keters, you were terrified, you had the piss scared out of you, and you came out of it high on adrenaline and terror, as well as the thrill of knowing you were alive. That--" he chews on the inside his cheek a moment. "That died out pretty quickly."

It's all poison, isn't it? He'd been told he was smarter, better, and maybe he saw through the lie that he'd be taken care of fairly fast, but the praise? He'd fallen for it, hook, line, sinker. And then he'd gotten his kneecaps yanked out from under him by a couple of kids, and suddenly Kass had stopped being all those things. Maybe he never had been all those things, maybe he was just as daft as the rest of the godawful human race.

This has been the loop in his head for months now. It always comes back to this. He can't make it stop--he's never even put it into words before this moment.

Kass is not--well, he feels a full range of emotions, much to his own chagrin, but he's always been skilled at burying them in alcohol, drugs, and work.

He feels like he's been numb for so damn long, and he was frustrated about being numb, but this is why. This is what his body did to cope, it locked down to keep from the breakdown. He doesn't want to break down.

"Kass--"

May's fingers touch Kass's upper arm, and he flinches away instinctively. She pulls her hand back, just as fast. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You were closing up. Do you want to stop?"

Stop? And be stuck thinking these thoughts, dealing with the aftermath of putting them out in the open? Stop and deal with the way his body wants to shut down, despite everything he's done to try to be better? Stop?

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not done. It's my turn."

"Trilby--"

"Shut it. You--" Kass turns sharply, a finger in May's face. "You dumb little bird. What are you trying to achieve here anyway?"

"Wh--"

"Are you singing the same tune as Ninja Gaiden? You want me to become a "nicer person"? You want me to be thoughtful and considerate? What's the point of your stupid game, princess?"

He wants to be nasty. He can be nasty. He wants to sneer in her face, and show her how pointless this all is.

He wants answers. He wants to know why nothing has worked.

God, more than anything, Kass wants the truth.

May blinks up at him, thick brows furrowed, Her eyes are gold and unreadable.

"Pass."

He tilts his head. "Sorry, have I gone deaf?"

"Pass."

"Why's that, then?" he sneers. "Because I'm right?"

"This is why!" May retorts. "No matter what answer I give you, no matter how truthful I am, you're not going to believe me. You'll come to your own conclusions. You'll think I'm lying! You're a skeptic. Why try?"

"Give me something, birdy! I don't care what it is, I just want some semblance of an answer--are you too daft to manage that much?"

Her mouth is a hard line. "You see? You don't want the truth. You think you know my thoughts better than I do."

Kass scowls. He drops back into the couch, and picks up his laptop. He's done. He's done with this.

"...This has really been bothering you, hasn't it?"

There's a sort of vulnerability in her voice, and concern. Fuck--she's doing it again.

"Stop that," Kass mutters. "Stop reading me. I don't like being kept in the dark, that's a given."

He can hear her sigh, can feel the cushions shifting as May slides from the end of the couch to the middle, beside him. She sets her glass besides his on the coffee table.

"Kass, I don't really--" May starts, then stops uncertainly. "You think I want you to change, you expect that I'll demand these things of you. I don't--god, Kass, you're--"

She begins to laugh.

"You're such an ass, all the time. You're sarcastic, and you're vindictive, and you're mean, and you're sharp. That makes me so happy!"

Kass looks up from his laptop to her, brows and mouth pinched. May continues, unhindered, her smile overpowering in her voice.

"You make me laugh so hard. You think I'm... naive or altruistic or pure or whatever, but I've got an awful sense of humor and your dark humor is so often right up my alley it brightens my day. And yes, you're a prick! I wish sometimes you knew when to shut your damn mouth!"

On cue, he opens it, and May holds up a finger to silence him, still grinning. "But I'm an enormous drama queen, so I have no room to talk!"

Kass pauses, then nods, closing his mouth. May breaks into a new set of giggles.

"I don't want those things to go away. That's you, and I wouldn't have invited you into my home if I didn't like the person I saw."

Kass closes his laptop.

"I just want.... I'm an empath, Kass, I know you've been through a lot lately even without knowing the details. I know you're always so on edge, and being in that house didn't help. Call me crazy, but I just wanted you to have a place that you could possibly grow to feel safe in. Hell, maybe even happy."

"You're right," Kass says flatly. "You're absolutely insane."

"Yeah," she agrees. "A little bit. I'm kind of an optimist, I guess--but I've felt trapped too. I've felt like I couldn't breathe, and that things would never get better. I've felt that general distrust and cynicism." May shrugs. "I got tired of it."

"Good for you, Emu."

"Tch," the girl snickers, and when Kass meets May's eyes, he sees her honesty. She's a shit liar, really she is. She hasn't succesfully lied to him yet.

"Can I ask my question now?"

"I didn't realize we were still playing," he replies, flicking off the Bill Nye show to opt for something else. Oh, new season of British Baking Show. He turns it on.

"We don't have to..."

"Oh, don't sound so eager to leave." He drops the remote into her lap, and finishes his glass off. "Fine. Yes. Go ahead."

May is sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. She doesn't ask her question immediately, instead fidgeting with Frank, who she has put on her lap as she had moved closer.

"Do you think--and, I, I know I sound like Simon when I say this, but do you think we can consider each other friends?"

He's distinctly aware of how she's a little tense, maybe even anxious. Maybe sheepish too, and she should be--this is stupid.

"Because--I want to be friends with you, Kass. I like being friend-ly with you, but I don't want to push any boundaries you aren't comfortable with because I got the wrong message."

This is what catches him off guard--it's May asking, not because she wants him to feel less lonely, or what have you, but because she doesn't want him to feel forced. It's... considerate. A strange kind of considerate.

"If you don't want to be friends, that's fine, Kass. I understand. I'm not going to try to drag you into, god, I don't know, I live a way less eventful life than the boys do." May hands him his PDA, and in the corner of his eye, Kass can see her mouth, a small line of uncertainty.

"You seem to have some idea in your fluffy little head that just because I’m here you’ve got a free licence to drag me into whatever irritating bollocks you and Cantaloupe Head are up to this week. Looks like you need a reminder that not everyone is down with your particular brand of Enid-Blyton-on-acid hijinks."

“In-no-possible-universe, are-we, or-are-ever-going-to-be, friends. Look in the mirror a few times, maybe it’ll sink in.”

Simon hadn't worn the little message Kass had written for very long--his friend had had plenty of experience getting grafitti off skin, and they had snapped to it right sharp. But the message seemed to have sunk in, to some level. Yes, Simon had been exceptionally apologetic lately, after the board game had deigned to spit Kass back out give or take (mostly take) a few decades.

Yet, there is still some level of space, however minute. Some wall the boy can not cross, because he, Kass, refuses to let someone else so certain about Kass's actions and abilities be proven right. It's spite, mostly. The harder the boy had pushed, the further into himself Kass had retreated, like an angry snapping turtle.

May doesn't push. Maybe she should, lord knows it would be easier for him to say "no" flatly and move forward from this.

She doesn't enter his personal space often, and she pulls back at the first sign of irritation. She--christ, the stupid bird is supportive and kind and all the things right in the world, no matter what argument she would make otherwise. And this, this thing wants to be friends with him. Him!

Kass doesn't remember the last time he had a genuine friend besides Frank. He has a feeling he'd be rather terrible at it.

"I'm not exactly.....proficient at the skill of being friends with people, you know. It has a tendency to go hand in hand with being nice."

"Yeah, I don't imagine it's your strongest area of expertise," she replies, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

She wants this? She knows exactly the kind of person he is, all the awful things he's done to her friends, and she likes being near him?

Kass shakes his head in disbelief, and then, as though resigned, says simply, "Hell, if you want to consider me your friend, if that doesn't absolutely destroy your reputation in society, then I can't necessarily stop you."

He can feel her entire body relax, relieved. May is smiling crookedly, eyes crinkled up with real happiness. What a little weirdo, he thinks, and it's almost fondly.

The moment is ruined by a crackly old voice.

"This is very mature of you Trilby. I'm quite proud."

"Shut your trap, Frank."

The girl can't hide the small giggle that slips out behind her fingers that have covered her mouth. "I-If it makes you feel better," she says, in a little, still bubbly voice, "I'm not about to call you Trilby."

"I would actually, physically, get cigarette ash in your hair if you did," Kass grumbles, relaxing against the couch beside May.

"You monster."

"You chose this path literal seconds ago."

She huffs a little laugh that shakes her chest once, and then reaches out, retrieves her glass, and offers it to him. He accepts, downing its contents.

It's hard to tell if tonight is a success. On some level, Kass feels emotionally spent, and ready to sleep deeply. There's a part of him that has stored away the stories May has told him, to look into later. There's the awareness that she's not as infallible and patient as he had believed, and the sharper knowledge that Kass has let more of his skin show tonight than he would have really liked.

May is warm beside him. There's still pizza left over, for tomorrow, and a little Bailey's and some root beer left. He feels fairly worn out, however. He's ready for quiet.

"D'you," May asks quietly, "have any more questions for me?"

He hums, and then, halfheartedly, mutters.

"Favorite...... Marvel movie?"

He feels her laugh. It feels nice.

"Thor Ragnarok. Duh."

[littledarlinwrites]

My Redemption Chapter 3

JokerxReader Word count: 1778 Author’s Note: I think I kept ya’ll waiting long enough. Reminder this is a not a beta’d ficlet so bare with me on mistakes, I’m tired, sleep deprived, and haven’t wrote in a while so I’m shaking the dust off. Enjoy!

Previously on: Ch 1 Ch 2

“All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That is how far the world is from where I am. One. Bad. Day.”

When I awoke the next day, I was well rested physically but my mind was more tired than when I fell asleep. I still couldn’t grasp how J and Joker were the same person, and I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to find out. I came to Gotham to get away from my screwed-up life and start anew, not get twisted up with a psychotic clown who obviously has a past. It was way too early for all this before coffee I thought to myself and decided to get up. I lazily made my way to the kitchen to make my morning brew, the aroma filling every inch of space in my relatively empty apartment. I grab my coffee cup and fill it before walking towards the window and waiting for the scalding liquid to cool so I could drink it and wake up more. I could see the late afternoon traffic making its way through downtown Gotham and all the people making their way to their next destination. I stared out my window without particularly looking at anything. Eventually my coffee became lukewarm, I shook my mind out of the fog it seemed to be lost in and began to drink it. Thoughts of J were tangled within my mind, unfortunately thoughts of this Joker character were also.

Frustrated, I decided that maybe a shower would wake me up a bit and hopefully calm my thoughts. Either way it was needed in order to get ready for work tonight. I sang along to some of my favorite songs of the nineties as I showered, my thoughts never calmed though. I got ready for work pulling on some ripped jeans, a tank top, and an old faded band t-shirt. I laced up my converse, pulled on my leather jacket, and said a silent prayer for work to go by uneventfully fast as I walked out the door.

Barely an hour into my shift and I can already tell it’s going to be a long night. The bar is more busy than usual and filled with demanding customers. The bar hasn’t been this loud or filled in the three months I’ve worked here. It also hasn’t been filled with such rude, skeevy guys either. I’m used to the awkward but harmless flirting, but the guys here tonight made me feel like I was constantly being undressed by someone’s stare.

Closer to closing time I shouted for last call and after waiting on the last guy I started wiping down the bar.

“Long night?” I heard called out from the other end of the bar.

“You could say that.” I replied while taking a glimpse at the time, “if you want anything to drink speak now or forever hold your peace for the night.” I add before making my way down to him.

“I’ll take glass of scotch if you have it, Doll.”

I started pouring the drink absent mindedly until the nickname made me look up at who I was serving. I was taken aback when I didn’t see what I was expecting. In that moment, I thought I was losing it and couldn’t wait to be home.

“Here ya go.” I say as I pass the glass to the man, our fingers brush each other and my eyes instantly flick to his. His chocolate brown orbs gaze into mine and it’s like time stops for a moment before the connection breaks from the clatter of a spilled drink on the section I was about to clean and I have to go back to wiping down the bar. I turn back around once I finish and the stranger is gone, his money under his empty glass. I take another look at the clock and kill the music to give people the hint to start filing out the door.

I lock the door to the bar and begin to turn around when two cats chasing each other yowling and hissing. The cats, taking me off guard, make me jump. I held my hand against my chest as it slowly calms down to a normal rhythm. I begin the familiar trek home after I’m not so startled. As I approach my familiar alley, the one that keeps me more occupied than a weekly tv show, I hear a man, hos breath labored. I cautiously approached the alley, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. When my eyes fall upon a sight I wasn’t expecting.

I was shocked still as I absorbed the details of the scene in front of me. Two men occupied the dark alley, one was dead sprawled across the ground, the other was leaning against the brick wall, grasping his side. As my mind processed the information I noticed the man that was leaning against the building was familiar. I’ll take a glass of scotch if you have it, Doll. The image of him earlier compared to what my eyes were staring at was a stark difference.

“J?” The solitary word escaped my mouth without permission from my stunned brain. Those warm brown eyes looked up at me with only little surprise and as soon as they did I dropped to my knees beside him.

“What happened?” I asked him concerned. Once again, his head tilts to the side and he looks at me inquisitively for a second before a grunt falls from his lips and he doubles over in an obvious wave of pain.

“Let’s get you out of here.” I say aloud to myself as I get to my feet and warp my arm around him to help him to his. He goes to push away from me as if he didn’t need my help and as soon as he does he begins to fall back down. I catch him before much of any progress is lost and keep a firm grip on him. I look up to him and he stares down into my eyes, a hardness that was in them for a moment melting away and being replaced by a wave of pain. I take a step and gently pull him forward, thanking my lucky stars that my apartment is close by.

We make our way to my apartment building, through my apartment, and into my bathroom. J grips onto the door frame taking a moment of pause and I get a good look at his face since I found him in the alley. His face is white as a sheet, as though he was wearing his white make up, but I know he isn’t. He leans his back against the door frame and slowly slides down it. I move passed him and fully into my bathroom quickly grabbing two towels one that I drench in water and the other I left dry, I also grab the first aid kit I kept stashed under the sink.

I dropped down next to him once again, this time wiping his face with the wet wash cloth. His once heavy, labored breathing is now coming in short, almost quiet breaths.

“Maybe I should get you to a hospital…” I thought out loud, but quietly to myself. Lightning fast after my thought, his hand gripped m wrist with strength I didn’t think he was capable of in this condition. I had glanced down when his bloody hand gripped my wrist, and just as quickly my eyes flashed back to his.

“No hospital.” He rasped out the two words. I nodded my head in agreement to him and his hand gripped my wrist tighter as another wave of pain rocked through his body. I could tell he was trying not to crush my wrist with his grip, although he tried the pain in my wrist begged him to let go but I focused on the blood coming out of his side more freely without pressure on it anymore. The dry towel in my hand immediately reached to his side and put pressure on it. I pulled the wrist he still had a hold of towards the side and used that hand to hold the towel onto his side, I then coaxed his hand to let go and help hold the towel there.

I crouch in front of him and opened the first aid kit pulling out iodine, rubbing alcohol, and stitches kit from when I was interested in the medical field. I held the side of his face in hand for a second to get his attention and his eyes opened and drifted towards me.

“This is probably gonna hurt, a lot, but I’m gonna get you fixed up.” I warn and reassure him. He smirks before replying, “I don’t feel pain Angel, just chaos” trails off as his eyes close, and I take that as a sign to move quickly. I open his shirt and pour the iodine and rubbing alcohol on his wound. A wound that was a slash that was concerning but it didn’t seem as if anything fatal like an artery was harmed, but also a shallow puncture, as if someone had attempted to stab him but for whatever reason, wasn’t successful. I tear apart the stitches kit and set to work on closing the most concerning of the two wounds. About twenty to thirty minutes later I struggle on wrapping his mid-section with gauze, but manage to accomplish the slightly difficult task. I stand up and stretch my back and arms and walk to the sink and lean against it to soak in everything that just happened. I turn around and begin to wash my arms and hands of their red stains. I walk into my bedroom and look for a baggy shirt that might work for him. After finding one I set it on the night stand, then I face my next challenge of moving him to my bed. This endeavor was a lot tougher without his cooperation of consciousness last time, and after a bit of struggling, I manage to get him to my bed. I peeked under the gauze to bed sure I didn’t rip a stitch in the process, and breathed a sigh of relief when I see that they all remained intact. Exhausted, I stripped off my t-shirt and threw it across the room and did the same with my jeans. I pulled on a pair of shorts and wrapped a throw I kept on the couch and sat up against my head board as comfily as I could in my bed beside him. So exhausted in fact that it seemed like I didn’t even close my eyes before I fell asleep, with the final though running thought my head, how did he get all those scars?

[arc-17]

Ficlet snippet. Input needed

Okey folks specifically @hollyashton , @stephschoices and @misha726author , who I consider some of the most amazing writers out there and who’s work inspired me to join the fandom here. Had a question. Been working on a journal if you will for my MC Sienna in Endless Summer. Now at one point I did do as an excersise since my writing had gotten rusty, more of a story but heavily transcribed from the amazing talent at Pixelberry’s work. Basically just editing work I guess. Anyway, like your thoughts on all this and or should I stick with the journal? (To see the Journal so far check the #Endless Journal or #fanfiction tags on my writing blog @shadowrebel-17 ’s page)

Anyway, here is a snippet from one of my fav parts of the series. The plane ride. Especially when she meets Jake. Followed by the same scene, in Journal form. Please please compare and give me feedback! Sorry its kinda long.

…..

She works her way farther forward, leaning into the open doorway to the cockpit, thinking to her self about the trip so far. ‘Definitely a better way to fly then with an airline ‘

The pilot lay back in his seat, combat boots up on the panel, hands folded on his lap.

Sienna cleared her throat. “Excuse me, it’s Jake right?” weren’t we supposed to have landed by now…?”

Nothing…

“Wait?! You’re asleep!?” she says in shock.

“Hrn?” he jolts awake, then blinking he turns, shifting in his seat. Eyes meeting hers.

‘Ohmygod… he was in that dream too…’ she stares a moment lost in thought.

“Listen, Princess, don’tcha know its rude to wake someone who’s taking a nap?” he drawls out with a southern twang in slight annoyance.

“Princess?” she blinks.

“What can I say?” he smiles “I give nicknames to people who annoy me”

“In that case I’m calling you Aragorn” she retorts with a smirk.

He blinks. Startled by her quick comeback. “Aragorn? I… don’t know what you’re talking about.” He briefly runs a couple fingertips over the week old stubble on his face.

She nods, indicating his features and the unkempt surfer hair.

“You know, Lord of the Rings?”

“Never heard of it” he deadpans but the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth breaks the façade.

“you’re a bad liar…” she grins knowingly.

“…fine” he smiles. His opinion of her going up visibly.

“Call me Aragorn. I like it. That man was a bad-ass. Anyway relax, we ain’t landin’ ‘till—“ he turns back towards the control panel. Then pauses.

“The hell? That time ain’t right.. and that ain’t right either!” he says giving the instruments a few hard whacks.

Sienna’s grip on the doorframe tightens a little more. ‘Maybe I should have called him Han Solo…’

“You sure you know what you’re doing…?” she says glancing around the cockpit, suddenly feeling like she was in that ‘piece of junk’ as Luke Skywalker had called it.

“Princess if you knew half the things I’ve survived you’d bet on me to get you through anyth—“

Out of nowhere sudden severe turbulence shakes the plane, throwing Sienna against the cockpit wall hard. She winces, gasping in shock and pain as she attempts to get her footing back, hands gripping the co-pilot’s seat in a vice grip. Watching out the windscreen as the sky grows quickly black, the darkest storm clouds she’s ever seen rushing towards them.

“Aww that’s just great! that stormfront’s moving in quick!” Jake mutters, Jockeying the controls as he shuts the auto pilot down and resumes manual control, slowing the plane down just slightly as all the dials are swinging every which way. Alert tones sounding off and red lights flicking on.

“Get your ass in a seat, hear? And tell the others to buckle up!” he grits out.

“But….” She starts to say, a tremble in her voice.

“Now princess!” he barks with the air of command.

Her muscles respond almost on their own accord quickly taking her from cockpit and back to the main cabin, the close walls the only thing keeping her up as the plane rocks violently. Fellow passengers yelling amidst the chaos.

“Oh I am reaaally regretting that Airport Chipotle!” a big guy groans out. “Don’t puke bro! If you puke, I’m gonna puke!” the foot ball player next to him yelps.

“Where the hell this storm come from, it was a clear day!” another blond girl, growls angrily.

“It happens okay? This is totally normal!” Jake the pilot yells out of the cockpit to the others.

“Yyyeah sure… THAT looks normal!” another person points out the window.

Orange and yellow balls of electricity and lightning coalesce from the sky, exploding around them in bright showers of sparks and bolts.

Sienna’s eye’s go wide as she grips a seat near Sean and another girl.

“It looks like ball lightning…” says one of the students who had been quiet to this point, a very petite girl in an orange sweater says in a mixture of awe and fear. Adjusting her glasses as they tried to fall off “But I’ve never seen anything quite like this!”

“This is all wrong! I cant die here surrounded by these morons!” the pale Aleister wails, gripping his arm rests for dear life.

“Everyone just breathe! We’re going to get through this!” Sean Gayle’s voice booms out above the others, looking to the red-headed girl in the seat in front of him.

“Oh god oh god oh god…” she whimpers beside where Sienna had paused.

CRracKoOm!

Blisteringly loud thunder deafens everyone, white light shocking the plane as lightning strikes, sparks and a few curses swirling in the cockpit.

The jet like whine of the turbines outside the plane rise before stuttering then fade to nothing. The propeller blades slowing to windmill uselessly in the air.

“Welp, engines just lost power.” Jake says in a collected focused tone above the din. More alarms wailing in the cockpit. “Bringin’ her in manually. Everybody hold on!”

The shouting grew louder as everyone starts to panic after that. Clinging on to the seat, frozen in place Sienna glances back, looking for Diego and spots instead, one person who’s not panicking.

A girl with her dark hair in a tight ponytail and a long scar across her eye sits alone in the back of the plane. Her face silent and unfazed.

Staring, not remembering meeting her yet Sienna is suddenly shook as a hand pulls on her shoulder, Lila, the tour guide trying to get her attention. “Sienna! Safety first! Please find a seat!”

Sienna quickly looks down and takes the seat beside her, the plane lurching up the seat to meet her as she tumbles in, fumbling with her belt.

Next to her a girl sits still as a statue, face drawn tight. Skin pale as she doesn’t turn, face forward as she clings to the arms of the seat.

“Just Breathe, it’ll pass.” Sienna says, trying to channel the courage she’s seen in the pilot, Sean behind them, and even the spooky girl in the back.

“This can’t happen… not yet… it’s too soon…” she manages out. Her chest rising and falling shallowly, not breathing well. Cold sweat making her long red hair cling to her face and neck.

Biting her lip, Sienna gets an idea then smiles, “hey, why couldn’t the melons get married?”

“wha… what? I.. have no idea?” she stammers. Looking over at her for the first time.

“Because they Cantaloupe!” Sienna grins in a cheeky fashion. She stares back at her blankly for several long moments before speaking “Because… they can’t elope! That is the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard.” She attempts it stifle a giggle, but fails breaking out into the most infectious laughter Sienna had ever heard. ‘mission accomplished’ Sienna smiled to herself.

“Are you positively mad? This isn’t the time for jokes!” Aleister snarls.

Sienna is about to give a sharp retort when the girl interrupts “no, this is the perfect time for jokes!” she smiles back at Sienna sweetly, taking her hand, color returning to her face as she is breathing normal again, the din seeming to fade for the moment around them.

“I’m Quinn.”

“Sienna.”

Outside the blasts of wind, lightning and energy is reaching a fevered pitch.

“I think we’re almost out… hold on!” Jake grits out. Knuckles white as he works the yoke hard, trying to hold course, feathering the blades to stop them from spinning.

An eternally long moment later they break out into a clear dazzling blue sky.

“whohooooo! We’re alive!” the big fellow, Raj bellows out, fist pumping the air as other cheers and applause or signs of relief fill the air.

“Sienna look… there it is!” Quinn says looking out the window.

“Get a good look now cause we’re coming in fast” Jake calls back. “Welcome to La Huerta!”

Outside seeming to rise mythically out of the sea is a large island covered in rich emerald green life, glistening streams and long beaches, dominated by a massive mountain volcano in the center, a column of white steam rising into the air.

“La Huerta Tower this King Air X-ray Charlie Delta Mike Kilo requesting emergency priority to land!”

Jake waits several long moments with no response as he maneuvers the gliding craft towards the airport.

“Carlos! Pick up you lazy bastard. It’s Jake!”

Nothing…

“Ignoring me won’t make me forget the hundred bucks you owe me. Like it or not we’re coming in.”

A while later, smooth as glass the plane sails into the airport. Landing roughly on the dirt runway and coasting fast Jake jigs it into the empty hanger then stops.

If anyone had been a pilot they would have noticed the remarkable skill that took with out power but alas for Jake. No one seems to have cared at this point. “Meh” he mutters. Unhooking his headset and shutting down the systems.

One by one the passengers descend the stairs and into the warm tropical sunshine.

…..

And now same scene in the Journal.

……

So after that we noticed that the flight was taking longer than expected so I went up to check what was up with our pilot.

On the way met some of the other ten winners talking with our tour guide, Lila. Who might I add is… ok remember “tour guide Barbie” from Toy Story 2? Yeah that’s her. Perky and sunny as a Pina Colada. Great… now I want one.

Ok so anyway I go to ask the pilot and….. he’s totally asleep. Yep. Feet on dash, head on chest. And probably I would have flipped out if… if it wasn’t for the fact that I got distracted by the fact that HE was the beach-boy soldier in my dream earlier. Yep. Well… that and the fact of that southern drawl, blue eyes and that smile…

Oh yeah and apparently he gives nicknames to people that annoy him. So I’m “Princess”

Honesty, I… kinda like it. And because he seriously looks the part of a scruffy ranger I called him Aragorn.

Yeah and I may have a crush on him too… did I mention those eyes? He’s like, part Han Solo, part Aragorn, part Colonel Jack O’Neill from SG-1.

Anyway, right after that things got… scary like, frickin’ terrifying.

This big, black storm front hits, and throws me into a wall. And its bad. Like fire ball lightning and deafening thunder, Armageddon like bad.

I kinda got the sequence of things a little jumbled in my memory, honestly for the first half of it I just clung to a seat in shock, taking it all in ‘till Lila shook me out of it and helped me to a seat.

Somewhere in there the plane got hit and the engines died, people screaming and all that. All but one. There’s this girl with us, with a blue hoodie and she’s got a scar across one eye and has these dark eyes. There’s something off about her not like… bad just… she wasn’t afraid. if anything she looked… determined.

So yeah pretty much beside her it was Jake, he’s the pilot and Sean that kept their wits about them. The girl in the seat next to me, she… she looked worse then me at this point. About to have a panic attack. I cracked a joke like, a bad one, you know. The Cantaloupe one. Yeaaah… hey I did pretty good for short notice!

Anyway, I think it helped. Cause, like she laughed and started breathing again. And let me tell you… that laugh. Her grin. Okay yeah we helped eachother keep our nerves. She held my hand tight as did I in return.

Oh her name is Quinn and you have got to me her. Bright, bubbly, long sweeping red hair… looks like a Disney princess. And just as easy to be with.

Okay fine I like her too. A lot. Do I sound desperate?

Like… three people I’ve just met and I wanna spend more time with them? Maybe it’s the air here. Magical.

Okay I digressed. So somewhere after that Jake breaks us out of that storm and its as brilliant blue as it was before. Like… almost never happened. Except for the engines still being dead as you and I after that party Kaitlyn and her roomies threw last semester.

Honestly? Jake is one hellova damn good pilot. Like Tom Hanks in the movie Sully good.

He, without engines, got us on the ground AND parked in a hanger, coasting through it all. No one answered at the tower though. Which was spooky and it gets weirder later on.

But he got us down in one piece, and Oh My god this island is STUNNING! Green as an emerald gem from the air, caught a glimpse of crystal rivers and waterfalls on the way in and this big ol’ smoking volcano in the middle.

**** Feed back please! Thanks all!

[shysneeze]

OWLs (Draco x Reader)

Request -can you do a Draco Malfoy x slytherin/harry potter's sister? thank you!:)- anonymous

Warnings-

(Author's Note- You don't understand how excited I get when people request these, I love them :))(I am sorry in advance this didn't go as planned)

First Year

It's silent in the hall as my brother walks up to the stool and the hat is placed on his head . People begin to murmur  and hear snippets of peoples conversations.

"Harry Potter, bloody hell,"

"I thought he was in hiding?"

"Harry Potter in Hogwarts, his sister must be here too!"

My hand flies to my forehead to hide my lightning bolt scar. Harry has the same one and the other side of his head .

I'm snapped back from my thoughts when the hat bellows out my brother's house and cheers erupt from the red and yellow table.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I clap as Harry hops off the stool and almost skips to his table .

"Potter (Y/N)," The Professor calls and I gulp nervously and make my way to the stool, ignoring the whispers.

The hat is placed on my head and I can't help but look over at the Gryffindor table and hope to see Harry. I see him and he just nods as if telling me it's going to be fine.

"Hmm..."The hat says, "You are very different from your brother, seems I might have to put you in... SLYTHERIN!"

My eyes flicker to the slytherin table, a few people look less than amused by the hats decision. I gulp before sliding of the stool and cautiously making my way to the slytherin table. I take a seat next to another first year who instantly turns to face me.

"Hello, I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy,"He says, holding out his hand for me to shake. I take a second to consider before accepting the hand shake, because if I don't accept the offer of friendship now, I may never be able to again.

"(Y/N) Potter,"I say.

"I know..."I can't help but give him my  "You've got to be joking" look. "sorry,"He mumbles but I find my self laughing.

"It's fine,"I say, trying to hold back my giggles.

---

Fifth Year

"Draco, it's my OWLs you've got to help me , you're amazing at potions,"I plead, a desperate attempt to get him to help me study.

"I've got things to study for too, (Y/N)." He argues.

"Come on, I'll be your best friend?"I try to bargain, smirking as he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, you're already my best friend,"

"Okay fine, I was being civil but I have no choice now, but to do... the face,"I warn.

"Not the face, come on..."

It's too late, I'm already giving him the puppy eyes. He desperately tries to look away.

"Please?"I pout.

"Fine!"He sighs, exasperated.

"Yay! Thank you," I squeal, jumping and pulling him into a hug, kissing his cheek in the process.

After a second I realise that I'd just kissed him and my cheeks go warm, I can assume they are the same colour as Draco's,who is as equally flustered.

"Um meet me in the library after dinner,"He says before scurrying off to his next class.

---

After dinner I make my way to the library with all my textbooks in hand. When I get there, Draco is sat at a table near the back of Library.

"Hey,"I say, sliding my self into the seat  across from him.

"Hey,"He replies without looking up from his book.

I begin to open my text book at the correct page on moonstone.

"So teach, what's first?"I ask and he smirks.

"Write down all the properties of moonstone that you know from class, without the textbook,"He says, taking my open text book and slamming it shut.

"It's in the draught of peace?"I say, writing it down on my parchment. "and some poison thing?"

Draco sighs.

"You are hopeless. Snape actually made us copy every potion it was used in twice and you still don't get it?"He says.

"Well he's not a very encouraging teacher, he hates me because my brother can't keep his mouth shut,"I try to argue.

"Well I think you should copy the potions out again, so it sticks,"

"You're mean,"

"Just start copying them out,"He sighs, making me groan as I start to list the potions.

Halfway through my list I notice something in my textbook.

"Draco, it just says several love potions, it's a bit vague,"

"No it gives you examples," He tells me, without looking at the page.

"Where?"

"Right there,"He says, pointing at the page in his own textbook.

"Show me," I grumble and he sighs, standing up and coming to my side of the desk. He leans one hand on the desk and stands beside me, his eyes skimming the paper as he  looks for the examples. I can't do anything but stare at him. His hair is seems slightly curly up close and his eyes have got a blue tinge to them today making them seem lighter. I smile at the thought.

"Are you listening?"He asks, turning to face me before I can even look away and deny everything.

"I-I was jus-"

I'm cut off suddenly by Draco's lips on mine. I hesitate before I kiss back. His lips are so soft, so warm on mine. I can't help but feel like I might melt.

"Oi, get off my sister,"

We are interrupted

We pull apart quickly and turn round to come face to face with Harry. His fists clenched and breathing heavy.

"There is so much wrong with this,"Harry spits, waving his hand in a circle around Draco and I. His other hand on his head like the sheer thought is enough to make his brain explode.

I open my mouth to say something before deciding I have no clue what you say in a situation like this and I smack my lips closed, letting my eyes wander around the room, an attempt to ignore the fiery glare I'm receiving from Harry.

"From what I hear you were snogging Cho Chang but god forbid I kiss someone,"I finally argue.

"You didn't just kiss somebody,(Y/N), you kissed a Malfoy,"He hisses.

"See this thing we've got right here, where you both talk about me like I'm not here, it does sort of hurt,"Draco adds and turn and give him an apologetic smile.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"Harry spits, wand suddenly in hand, directly pointed at Draco's throat.

"Okay, we are in a library full of people, what are you going to do, blow my head off?"Draco smirks and I bite my lip and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are not making this any better,"I say.

"Sorry,"He says.

"Harry, don't overreact,"I say, standing in between the two boys, making Harry put down his wand.

"(Y/n), he's a Malfoy..."

"So I hear," I say grumpily. "Harry, it was an accident, we were studying, it happened,"I say, knowing deep down  it wasn't that simple.

"So it won't happen again?"

"I will make no such promise,"I mumble.

"Potter, jus-"

Harry lunges forward at Draco and I hear a crack as his fist connects with Draco's nose.

"Harry!"I hiss, instantly going to Draco, who's nose is gushing with blood.I take my wand and point it at his nose.

"Episkey." I say and with another crack Draco's nose stops bleeding.

"Thank you, (Y/N),"Draco says. "and as I was going to say ,Potter, was that I'll look after her, she won't get hurt, I promise," He says sincerely, holding his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry just stares at it for a second.

"I swear to god, Malfoy , if I ever her find (Y/N) hurt or crying because of you, I will kill you,"He says before stepping forward and shaking Draco's hand, reluctance clear on his features as he does.

"I won't let that happen,"Draco assures making me blush.

"I'd say I'm sorry about punching you but quite frankly I've never felt so satisfied before in my life," Harry says, smirking triumphantly as Draco bites his lip to stop from firing back an insult.

"Harry,"I say, a warning for him to stop.

"Okay fine, I'm going, but mark my word Malfoy-"

"He gets it,"I say, angrily.

"Right, fine, bye (Y/N)... and Malfoy,"He says hesitantly before walking away.

"Jesus Christ..."I mumble. Turning to Draco, his face covered in blood from Harry's punch.

"Didn't think he had it in him..."Draco comments as he tries to wipe it away. I raise my wand to his face again.

"Tergeo,"I say and the blood on his face disappears.

"Thanks, again, (Y/N),"Draco smiles.

"No problem, sorry about Harry,"

"Oh no, it's fine,"

The conversation stops there and we are faced with an awkward silence.

"Um so do you want study again or..."Draco says.

"Oh sod that!"I say and I find my self flinging my arms around Draco's neck and slamming my lips onto his. I feel his arms wrap around waist and his lips move in sync with mine.

---

And that is how I failed potions.

---

(Updated Author's note- I really don't think this is what you really wanted with your request, sorry. I suddenly remembered a essay I had to do and I've been splitting my time with the essay and the requests I have to write but overall I ended up binge watching Sherlock. So I am super distracted so this chapter sucks, sorry. I'll make up for it next time.)