#maybe leave the places where they usually perch light-free for a bit longer

[sheliesshattered]

why haven't I decorated my porch for Halloween yet?

because if I did my crow friends wouldn't come visit me

[wthtorke]

Incandescent (Kofi commission)

Kofi one shot commission by  Insta is day_of_mayhem! 

(I might have gone off on this one lmao Enjoy!)

Incandescent. 

The night had been quiet, the trees softly hustling against one another as the wind blew. First, it was the strange noise.

From your little house in the woods, a sharp noise rattled through your bed, making you jump up in surprise.  Running to the window, you saw what could only be described as a falling star, coming quickly towards your house.

You could barely brace yourself against the windowsill as the star ripped through the clouds, falling far into the woods. Panting and scared, you looked for any signs of it. Any burning trees, smoke, noise coming from the general direction where it fell. You found none. 

From the window, you caught sight of your truck, still parked in the driveway. Grunting to yourself, you made your decision as you grabbed a coat and the wooden axe from the fireplace, running to your car, hoping to find the fallen star before anyone else did.

Gripping the steering wheel hard enough your knuckles turned white, you drove through the path in the forest, stopping when even more strange noises reached your ears.

Stopping your car, you tilted your head slightly, trying to catch it again. Seconds passed before a sudden blast made you jump, looking into the direction a flash of light also happened. Leaving the car, you held the axe close to your chest as you slowly walked towards the noise, breathing quickly as you did.

From the trees behind you, a slick, black ridged tail moved quietly as its owner's drool fell onto the tree branches, slowly stalking towards you. 

'Hssssssss..' 

Eyes widening, you turned around in time to see a black creature jumping from the tree, arms outstretched and claws ready to tear into you. 

Falling to the ground, the creature landed heavily on you, claws grappling your axe handle as you barely had time to process its weight before shiny, sharp fangs closed itself repeatedly before your face. 

You only realized you were screaming when the creature shifted its weight to your chest, cutting your air as it reeled back to strike one final time to kill you.

Closing your eyes in fear, you could only open them again as an animalistic roar reached your ears, and then the crushing weight wasn't there anymore, a screech and a heavy, wooden thud following suit. The creature had been rammed from on top of you, instead hitting the tree it jumped from hard in its back, falling to the ground, briefly shaken. 

You took your chance to get up as well and dart between the trees, out of the creature's way. You only bothered looking for whatever had knocked it out of you when the black creature hissed into another direction, and you realized there was absolutely nothing there. 

Still, under the dim moonlight, the creature leaped into nothingness, surprisingly landing on the thin air, snapping and hissing, swinging its tail around. You watched as it tried to hit something with its piercing tail. With a roar, you jerked back as it seemed to hit its goal, whatever was beneath it started zapping and glowing with failing electrical power, soon revealing what the thing was perched on as it didn't stop its struggles for one second. 

At this point, you had come to the conclusion that they were indeed aliens, and the star was no star but probably a ship that crash landed, even if you had no idea where it was now. The stream of roaring and screaming snapped you out of your thoughts, the massive humanoid alien trying to shake the creature from it’s back as best as it could, while still trying to dodge its deadly tail.

You looked around, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you to do something, anything. Looking at the dark forest behind you, you had no idea if there were other alien serpents around or more alien warriors to help this one. It was when the serpent's tail pierced the warrior's arm and you saw bright green blood explode everywhere that you took action.

Running towards both of them with your axe in hand. 

Your decision was made as the blade of your weapon sunk into the black creature’s back, it’s startled shrill making your ears ring as it’s tail hit you hard in the chest, both making you fly a few feet back and thankfully escape it’s weird fizzing blood that you’d later come to know was pure acid. 

You shook your head as you tried to breathe again, all the air knocked out from your lungs as you landed on your back. Your vision threatened to darken as you sat up, trying to spot where the aliens were.

Slowly your ears started focusing again as did your eyes, permitting you to see that not only was the black serpent not on top of the alien warrior anymore as said warrior was about to jam it’s blades into the serpent’s throat. The most intense occurrence of all your life didn’t last more than 5 minutes it seemed.

Getting up on your wobbly feet, you noticed just about how much blood there was around the ground. You watched as the warrior clutched his side, chest rising and falling as he stared at you, and while he could absolutely kill you if he so wanted, he didn’t.

Not that you were opposed to that, of course.

You felt the adrenaline die down in your blood, the cold air finally making you shiver a bit. You looked at who you supposed was a ‘he’ and back towards the general direction of your car. If his ship had truly crashed, he was stranded. Hurt and stranded.

“Safe,” You said, pointing back where your car was, “Together…?” You questioned, montioning between you and him with your less hurt hand. He took a few moments to analyze the situation before making his decision. He was hurt, more so than he’d like to admit, but less than he’d be if you hadn’t shown up. He nods, slowly, unsure, later following you to the truck, all but hauling himself up the back of the pickup truck. ‘I’ll definitely need to hose that down in the morning.’ You thought as you saw the green blood streaks as you got into the driver's seat.

The drive back was smooth, no longer fueled by raw fear and adrenaline. You felt tired, maybe because of the bruises forming where you got hit or well, the fact that this was more action than you had since….Well, ever. Getting home, you didn’t really know why you snuck him through the garage door, you had no neighbors and no family living with you but somehow it seemed the right thing to do, he was an alien after all.

He seemed to know the concept of showering, at least. He washed all the dirt and grime off of his body and you were more than a little upset at yourself that you didn’t see him take off his mask, only noticing your mistake when he got out of the bathroom and the metal was so clean it was sparkling. 

You watched as he sat in your living room and started patching himself up. While he wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore, the roaring surely gave you chills down your spine as he plunged some kind of needle into his thigh, pumping the syringe’s contents into his system before sewing his wound shut.

You pointed at the couch and told him to make himself at home, as far as that could go, anyway. You passed out as soon as you hit the pillow, your body paying no mind to the huge alien downstairs.

The next morning, he was gone.

 As much as you were expecting it, it still felt...odd. Like some kind of fever dream. Only you knew it happened by the state of your house and garage. If you didn’t know it was an alien, you’d have thought a wild bear had wrecked your house. The floor was muddy, some things were out of place or straight up on the floor while some you couldn’t tell if they were touched at all. 

Sighing, you gathered the broom, mop and trash bags to start your new mission; Cleaning the house. 

Cleaning was usually boring, but this time it just felt restless. Even as your favorite songs played in the background. Of course, no alien could just have a slumber party in some human’s house but still, much had happened yesterday. You wondered when the government’s men were going to burst through your window and shoot a sedative up your arm because you’ve had alien interaction. 

You were cleaning the kitchen cupboards when a reflection that very much wasn't your own caught your attention in the mirror. Squinting a bit, you jumped back when your eyes focused and revealed your guest's reflection, only his position was right behind you. "FUCK-” You turned around quickly, hitting your knee in the process, ”When did you get here?! God-," You started coughing a bit from the sudden intake of air.

You looked back at him when you heard strange noises coming from his helmet, almost like someone was tuning a radio before the words became clear, recordings.

"No-, trails."

You blinked in confusion for a second before realizing what he meant, slight dread setting in your gut at the prospect that an alien could speak, or well, play recordings of english to you. "Trails-, in the forest? Wow..that’s, that’s very nice, actually, hadn’t thought of that,” you thought over your next words, taking in his huge form as you did, “You’re headed home now, I suppose?”

He shook his head, motioning to his still tender wounds from yesterday’s battle against the serpent.

The serpent.

“Oh, Um-, That thing is dead, right?”

He nodded, “Exterminated. Contained.”

Contained.

“Great, great-, well, if you’re not planning to kill me and take over my house, you’re um...very welcome to stay?” You said, a bit unsure.

He nodded, walking over silently towards your garage door, you heard rummaging around, following to see him picking up after a broken vase you didn’t remember was there.

He was a considerate roommate, you could say. Wherever this alien came from, he knew of common sense, or just had a very strict mama as he helped in the chores he could. You suspected he didn’t trust you to clean his trails properly, but you weren’t complaining of free help.

Another thing you could tell is that he learned fast. Very fast. 

He’d been skeptical of you, at first. You’d never catch him sleeping or eating, always the same passive expression of his mask looking back at you. You couldn’t blame him, but even then, it was hard not to speculate what was underneath it. Did he look like Davy Jones? The Shape? He didn’t seem to be aquatic. Maybe a lizard? His skin was mottled like one, at least. 

3 months passed by before you both had that feeling. He’d been here for too long. His wounds were beyond healed, no one had shown up for him, no government, no other aliens, nothing. You’d seen him mess with his wrist gauntlet a few times, seen him test the cloaking device he had, it worked. 

So, why was he still here?

  It was on a similar night that you met him that you mustered the courage to ask.

The stars were bright, as was the moonlight. The breeze was soft, you both sat outside for a bit, looking into the forest. He told you he feared they’d come at night. You guessed he spoke of other humans, the kind that would want to study him alive, in the name of ‘science’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Are you waiting for your people to come get you? Have you sent a signal yet?”

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched a bit, the cold air around you prickling at your skin. “Oh-, well...have they replied?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, “So, I guess they’ll be coming soon, right?”

You waited for another robotic ‘Yes’ to hit your ears, to shatter your fantasy of living a nice life with him, somehow.

“No.”

“No?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him, “Why not?”

He turns to look at you for a second, at least you could assume he was looking at you behind the mask.

With that, he lifted his hands to the object of your speculation during the last 3 months, fingers slowly snapping off tubes that connected it to the rest of his armor with an audible ‘Fzzzzz’.

You held your breath as he hooked his fingers around the mask, snapping it off as well. He hovered the mask for a second before slowly lowering it away from his face.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you took in the sight of him, the spiky crown around his forehead, the mottling, so similar to the rest of his body, going down to his eyes, you lingered there for a moment, taking in how yellow they looked, and how they were staring directly into your own.

You gulped as you kept lowering your gaze, spotting the fangs, the tusks, the strong jaws that could very much clamp around your neck right now, if he so wanted. Everything about him screamed predator before, but now, having the last piece of the puzzle, you could only think of one word to describe him.

Perfect.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when his hand touched yours, so tender, mindful of his talons, yet still enveloping your cold ones in warmth. You looked up at him, fingers slowly squeezing his own, an attempt to show him you weren’t afraid, just stunned.

“Stay.” He said, in a much deeper voice than any he’d ever played for you before. His voice.

You only realized you were crying when the tears caught in between the crinkles of your smile, stopping their journey straight down your face, giving them a shortcut to falling down your chin, to where his other hand was raising up, gently tipping your face up, as he lowered his own, pressing your foreheads together.

“Stay.” You repeated, in a much quieter, shakier voice than his, but with every bit of intention behind it, still smiling as he squeezed your hand again.

Suddenly, the night didn’t feel nearly as cold anymore, nor did it feel as lonely as it once did.

[stagbells]

Summerdew and Sweet Kisses

From: @daikoski

To: @strawberryaeris

Written work under readmore!

notes: hello!! i had lots of fun writing this, it was such a joy to work on! it’s my first time writing lacenet, so i hope you enjoy!! summertime love :D

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It’s date night, and Lace has full reign on what they’re doing today.

It’s less of a spoken thing and more a silent agreement that one of them can take the lead and decide what sort of day the two will share together. Whether it be cozying it up at home, or working on individual projects with the other close by, going hunting, or seeking out a new activity to share, most of everything is free game when it comes to them. 

To which, she’s deliberately chosen something new.

Hornet had mentioned one time, in idle conversation, that she’d never really swam for the sake of it. If anything, it was a shortcut, if she couldn’t easily cross the body of water with her needle and silk. That she hadn’t really considered it as a fun passing of time, a recreational activity of sorts.

Well. Neither had Lace, but the thought of it now sounds far more appealing now that they’ve both claimed better lives for each other, for Hornet’s family, doesn’t it? It’s safer now, and they’re easing into a life beyond just fine, but something good instead. 

And... there are plenty of beautiful, isolated spots within the land that Lace has seen, and what better to enjoy it than with her darling? 

And what a pretty little area it is too; a pond, hidden within the depths of a lush grove. hidden, but with evidence of prior life, if the cute wooden dock is any indicator. The surface of the pond is scattered with aquatic plants in little vibrant clusters, pearls of colour that sway with the breeze. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to enter the water, dear?” 

From her spot, with Hornet sitting perched on the dock, dangling her peets into the water and swishing them around in such a way that makes Lace laugh, before settling her always so composed regard on her, she looks nothing less than perfect. And also very wary of getting wet beyond that.

Cute. 

“I’m considering it,” is just enough of a not-response that Lace hums, a touch understanding, a touch mischievous. Ah yes. She’s considering it. 

Hornet has been sitting on the edge of the dock for almost an hour now, the two making idle conversation as they enjoy the balmy air that’s heavy-sweet with ripening fruits and bright flowers, hot to the point of being almost unbearable, but alas, she is still considering it. 

Such a shame.

Lace splashes the unsuspecting spider. 

Not a full-on wave, of course, she isn’t that mean, but as of now, a little urging on her part wouldn’t hurt, and Hornet immediately shields herself from the water. The top-half of her cloak is soaked.

“Lace—!” 

“Yes?” Her voice as innocent as she is not, she merely swishes her hands within the water, propelling herself back a bit from the dock before holding her hands out in gesture, as if to catch Hornet if she were to dive in. “My, dearest, do you need any help with that? You’re already halfway there!”

“My silk is going to melt, and my things could rust...” 

“A little water won’t hurt, but if you need a place to keep them, there’s a little nook over there that’ll keep them safe.” Shrouded by bits of sweet grass and soft soil, it’s a perfect spot to keep anything important safe. Besides, they’re both well aware that both of their belongings are far sturdier than that...

“If you had wanted me in the water so bad, you could have asked.” 

Kind of haphazardly, more deliberate than not, Hornet unburdens herself of all the little tools and trinkets she keeps within her cloak, before finally sliding into the water. (It’s a mess, but a mess that she understands and who is Lace to question that.) 

“There. I’ve removed everything from my pockets, and I’m here now.” Her tone is just a touch grumpy, though that’s easily dismissed with the way Lace can feel the faint stutter-rumble of her purr as she rests a hand on Hornet’s chest.

“Cute, but I think the little questions I’ve scattered into our conversation were not given much heed.”

“Maybe if you asked again...” Ah, now that is most certainly petulance. “You’re enjoying making a fool of me today, aren’t you?”

Hornet’s claws are carefully gripping her own, smaller hand, and Lace brushes the pad of her thumb over her now damp fur. The distant, light waves that carry them ever so slightly kind of pushes her to Hornet, and she can only smile wider at the way her lover’s claws go to brace her gently.

“Ahh, my apologies, I'm not trying to be mean!” 

“Really.”

“Mm. At least, just a little bit.”

“So you do admit it.”

“And you must believe me, dearheart, when I say I have no ill intent~!” 

Intentionally, Lace lets her mandibles curl in a teasing, honey-sweet manner that always has Hornet unable to look away for just a little bit, and she relishes in the attention just as much as the way her darling swats a wave of water her way in reciprocation.

Because even if she says it in a teasing way, going so far to jab her elbow lightly into Hornet’s side with a laugh, she hopes that the cute spider knows she means every word of it. 

Because she’s something wonderful, isn’t she? Direct in a way that’s refreshing, because how often is it that Lace gets to experience something like that? Sharp and honest (and even if she does sometimes struggle with expressing her feelings, she’s still honest) and it’s in such a way that makes Lace want to be the same towards her, be something more open, more real.

...Weird concept, and Lace finds herself laughing to herself, just a little trill of delight. 

Yes, but nothing could ever make her stop wanting to tease the spider. Her reactions are so cute after all! 

But, her sappiness can be saved for later. Not when there’s currently the cute culprit of these thoughts right in front of her. It’s fun to splash around and goad her dearest on into something of a playfight, one that results in the both being absolutely drenched, but it’s just as nice to relish the coolness of the water against her shell, and in turn be able to admire the many facets such a new experience has brought upon Hornet’s visage. 

Cute.

Such as the vague flit of surprise that had so graced the spider’s face when Lace had dunked herself beneath the water; not so many bugs feel comfortable doing such a thing, after all. Or the fond, subdued smile that quirks her fangs just so with each sharp banter that slips so naturally out. It’s nice. 

And when the sunlight becomes something a bit too bright and Lace can see the films of Hornet’s eyes try to flick up as she winces from it, she can’t help but bump shoulders with her, before drawing her hand over the smoothness of Hornet’s mask in an unsubtle way of blocking the light, for even just a moment. 

“You’re getting water in my eyes,” Hornet half-protests, fangs scrunching but looking so much more relaxed now, and Lace can only think of it as a job well done. 

She had purposefully made it so that they would go out later in the day anyways; noonlight was something so sharp sometimes, but alas, even in the evenings can the sunlight bother her dearest like so. They continue like that for a good while longer, idly floating about and conversing, one instigating another splash war on occasion.

It’s all fun and games until they have to get out of the water.

Hornet, the poor little thing, looks just a bit miserable as she works on flicking the water from the tufts of fur that lines her body, chelicerae working ever so slightly concentration. Well, it’s good she’s come prepared.

“Here you are, lover!” Easily tossing a towel around Hornet’s shoulders, Lace gives it a light tug to pull her spider down to press a little kiss and a nuzzle against the side of her mask.

“You planned for this.” Hornet is nothing short of accusatory, and she laughs, just letting a playful hum be her response as she helps tumble dry her.

“What, to trick you into the water so I can give you a kiss?” 

Could it really be considered such a devious plan when she was planning on kissing her either way? Endearing thought, especially since Hornet herself is the one to go through some length to muster up something as direct as asking for a kiss. Usually all she’d need to do is start purring up a storm to leave Lace as the one giving the kisses!

At some point, Hornet had cuddled up to her, both drying beneath the steady heat of the sun, but indulging in the warmth of one another for as long as they were allowed. Laying back onto the wood of the deck, peaceful and soft and warm, where the only sounds were that of trickling water and slowing breathing.

Despite appearances, Hornet can be quite the cuddler, curling herself as close as possible to Lace, little tail and everything looping around her as she dozes. Well, this is her fate now. 

She doesn’t have the heart to move and disrupt Hornet from a well-deserved nap, even if the way they cuddle always traps her beneath her weight. Not until the sun begins to fall, and the faint glimmers of the starlight begin to settle in, does Lace think of stirring the spider. 

This is the sight she wanted to share with her, after all. To deliberately take a moment and enjoy the sight the massive void above has to offer, with all its strange mysteries and stories to tell. Stories she only really heard as a grub, but ones she’s more than willing to try and scrounge up to share with her lover if she so asked...

“Hello there, darling,” Lace carefully nudges her girlfriend awake, and Hornet untucks her face from the crook of her neck. “The sky is clear tonight, take a look.” 

(There’s no teasing note to her voice—there’s no need to bring it forth, rather. Not when everything is so quiet, so subdued, and Hornet is still shaking off the last lingering bits of sleep from her eyes, looking so peaceful and comfortable that the sight brings an ache forth in her chest.)

(That this is something they both get to have.)

“It’s night time already?” Hornet murmurs, twisting herself to lay on her back, “Would you not get cold?” The sleepy note to her normally composed and cold voice is something so cute, and Lace leans in to give her a little nuzzle. 

“No, and even if I do, I have you, as well as the shawl you had weaved for me so kindly.” And alongside that, the soft, genuine fondness in her own voice is still something so faintly unfamiliar, yet so nice. She could get used to it. 

Hornet flushes a bit, perhaps at the prospect that Lace had decided to take the gift she had made for her along in case the night air became chilly, before letting a little ‘mrr’ of disappointment out. 

“I am not sure if we should stay out so late...” she begins, before gesturing a bit vaguely, “that, and I had mistakenly assumed we were to return home by nightfall, so...”

Ohh, are her siblings expecting her?

Lace sits up, and unable to help it, stares for a moment. It clicks. Right. They usually go hunting during their dates, two belflies with one stone so to say. 

“Did you leave your siblings at home with nothing to eat?” is her automatic question, more concerned for Hornet than anything else. Hornet sits up as well, adjusting her cloak.

“Not nothing.” Hornet frowns, but there’s a small smile hidden, tucked away beneath her mask and Lace knows she’s not truly upset at her question, “they’re most likely eating as we speak. And if they so happen to finish all of our food at home, neither are the type to allow the other to go hungry anyways...” so they could very well be hunting, too.

“Ah, but I can tell you still dislike the notion of leaving them without a fresh meal.” Lace points out, and Hornet leans into her side a bit. 

“...Yes.”

“Cute! If it so soothes you, my worrier, then we can take a little detour. I wouldn’t mind if this date takes a turn for our usual.” Carefully extracting herself from Hornet’s hold, Lace hops up with ease to swipe up her belongings—including her pin.

Hornet visibly hesitates—and by visibly, there’s the slightest press of her claws against Lace’s arm, just a light pressure as if to gently tug her back to her side—before she too stands. Not one to leave things undone, not one to linger, but oh, so it seems for the both of them, lingering is just so much easier nowadays...

“Apologies...” she mumbles, and whether it be due to cutting their plans short, or the hesitation, Lace hums affectionately to comfort her. “We could stay a little longer?”

“We can always go stargazing another day, my dear. And hunting with you is always a treat, there's nothing to apologize for.” and with a little nuzzle, the two are on their way.

(A part of her delights so wonderfully at the fact she’s come to pick up so many of Hornet’s cues; not when so few bugs can say the same, and it makes her preen with a silly sweet sort of pride. Hers, just as much as she is Hornet’s.)

It isn’t until they’re both following an easy scent trail that Hornet speaks up again, breaking that routine silence and looking beautifully dangerous in the moonlight, needle and silk carrying her onwards.

“...Did you call me your ‘warrior’ or ‘worrier’?”

Pfft!

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

...

“I suppose I’ll just earn back my title as your warrior with this hunt.”

[summonerscenarios]

hi juno, i just saw sugar cubes with cat motifs that could double as emergency snacks on twitter today and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen!! that being said, how would the feline transients (of your choosing ofc) would react to MC giving them those cat-shaped sugar cubes for their Valentine gift? thank you in advance! (´ ∀ ` *)

sdfghjgf yikes it’s like 1am but IT STILL COUNTS. HAPPY VALENTINES FOLKS hope ya’ll are treating yourselves with the love and appreciation you deserve!! and here’s a lil post for the day, hope ya like it~!

---------

Durga

With Valentines coming up, Durga wanted to be one of the first to give you a present for the holiday, which means of course she’s gotta be the first to get there and get you something to blow the rest of the competition out of the water. It looks like you had the same idea however, as the pair of you just about barge headfirst into one another right outside of the Yoyogi dorms, sending the pair of you, and your respective gifts, spilling across the floor. It’s a humorous flurry of asking why the other got there so early, apologizing for the collision as the pair of you drop to your knees and check on the packages, and in the mixup Durga ends up picking up your package instead of her own.

Thankfully, the contents haven’t spilled over but the packaging is more than a little ruffled, and as her thumbs move to smooth the wrapping back out she spots the little name scribbled into the top corner. Her name, to be precise.

Durga lifts her head up to look over at you as you hold up her package, and from the expression on your face as you look at the little attached tag that she’d scrawled your name onto, you’re just as surprised as she is. You can’t help but laugh - what are the chances that you both ended up running into each other after looking for the other? Durga finds herself laughing along too at the sight of your grinning, and once it dies down you start urging her to open up her valentines gift; you really wanna see what she thinks of it!

While Durga tries to avoid sugary stuff, she can’t really deny her sweet tooth when you’ve gone out of your way to get her something so sweet, and that, coupled with the cute little cat motifs make her cave before she even sees your face, hopeful that she’ll like them. Plus, it’s valentine's day, right? She can make an exception juuust this once...it’s a stroke of luck that they’re the perfect thing to snack on while watching you open your own valentine’s gift, hiding her face in the box seeing your expression light up once you’ve peeled the wrapping away to look at the present she got you as a show of appreciation (and maybe something more who knows…)

Tezcatlipoca

It was the little cat motifs that sold you on buying the sugar cubes - they were just too cute to pass up! And it didn’t help that as soon as you’d seen them the first person that came to mind is Tezcatlipoca, if anything it’s what convinced you to buy them just for him to enjoy with valentine’s day coming up! Wrapping them all up was fun too - it had taken a while to get the kind of paper you were looking for, along with getting it all wrapped up and looking presentable enough to impress. There was a lot of care taken into getting them all the way over to the base, including having to bribe some of the luchadores with treats to slip the box past with you (which you would have done anyways, it was fun seeing them bristling with excitement when you’d pulled out some chocolate boxes you’d got just for them), but you’re sure it would all be worth it once you actually got the gift handed off to the jaguar therian - he’s all about sacrifice, so maybe giving would be nice for a change~!

That ends up going about as well as one expects, and you realize that once you pull the gift out from behind your back and hold it out to him the moment he whirls around, flashing him a beaming smile as you present it to him. Deadass thinks it’s a trick at first - he stares down at the box like he's waiting for some kind of test as if you’ve got a hidden trick up your sleeve, which unless he’s expecting the trick to be those tiny little cubes of sugar (in which case someone spilled the beans on your gift), is completely unwarranted. In the end you have to explain that because it’s valentines day, a day where you share your affections to others in the form of gifts, you decided you’d get a little something for him, with it being a holiday and all. (that he of course knows...maybe...not.)

That’s when Texcatlipoca takes the box off of your hands, and you’re kind of anxious watching him peel away the wrapping and pull out the small container of treats. He flicks open the lid with ease, and is greeted by rows of small, finely decorated sugar cubes, with cutesy cat faces and small, paw shaped confections for good measure. Adorable is the best way to describe what you’d gifted the feline, and as his eyes flicker over the lid of the container to look at you, you find yourself giggling and sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck as you explain that when you’d seen them you’d thought of him, so who better to give it too, right? You’re quick to add that they serve as great emergency snacks in a pinch too, hoping the double use was as appealing an idea to Tez as it was to you.

He’s not one to be outdone by your gifting gesture, so be warned that upon accepting your gift Tezcatlipoca is going to see this as a chance to outdo the gesture tenfold before valentine’s day has come to a close - you’ve caught him off guard with your small gift, and he’s going to return that sentiment in abundance, excited to see how you’ll react to the surprise.

Sitri

Sitri’s opening up more to valentine's day this time around, though you still thought you’d twist up the gift from the typical chocolate that people give out and think outside the box in terms of valentine’s gifts. The only trouble was picking out what you were actually going to buy - you wanted something that would make for a nice gift, as well as something that Sitri would appreciate and enjoy, so you’d wracked your head thinking of the perfect gift for the upcoming holiday.

That’s when you’d come across the sugar cubes - you’d actually heard about them from Ryota when he’d gushed about a store specializing in cat themed treats and how they were coming out with a valentine’s line. It was the perfect place to start looking for a gift, and so as soon as you had a free moment, you’d stopped by and managed to snag yourself a box of the cute little cubes before they’d gone out of stock. You had the option to get them pre-packaged, but you’d instead opted to hand-wrap them yourself so that you could include one or two other little goodies that you’d gotten for the occasion. It took a bit longer than you thought it would have, but by the time you’ve got it packaged up and tucked neatly away in a little gift bag, it’s right in time for valentines day, so you’re eager to head out and deliver your gift to the feline transient first thing after school. 

Even though you’ve gotten him valentines gifts in the past, Sitri’s still surprised and a little flustered when you come up to him, holding out the gift bag to him with a warm smile and greeting of “Happy valentines, Sitri!” as you present him with the gift you’d picked out. That reaction is only amplified once he opens the lid and looks down at the cute cat cubes looking back up at him with adorable faces and whiskers decals to really seal the feline look the treats have got going on. Admittedly, they’re not usually the kind of thing Sitri goes for, mostly thanks to those years chasing the ‘cool cat’ ideal, but as he’s opened up more, as well as with your expression anxiously waiting for his response, he finds himself not minding the gift in the slightest. If anything, he’s more worried about the gift that he got you - you’ve put so much thought into his gifts, he hopes that your gifts can hold a candle to them as he fishes out his own gift to give to you.

Nomad

With valentine’s coming around once again, you were determined to get Nomad something this time around. Sure, you’d gotten him things in the past, but those had mostly been in the form of time spent together going out to eat places and such; this time you wanted to go out of you way to get him a gift from the heart, something that would help convey your appreciation for the gruff tiger therian. Even if it was just a small little gift, you were set on going out and getting him something, which is exactly what you do the moment the shops start setting up for the holiday in question...you just really wish you had a better idea of the kind of thing that Nomad would like to receive. 

You don’t really peg him as the chocolates for valentines kind of guy - he’s worked enough valentine’s gigs you’re sure he’d like an alternative gift for a change - so you’d sought out something you wouldn’t normally have picked. Which is what led to you finding those sugary treats, and the moment you looked at them in the little decorative boxes on the display stand, you just knew that those were the treats you were going to gift Nomad with.

You don’t end up giving Nomad his ‘gift’ face-to-face however. Something came up that pulled you away from being able to give them to him in person (because seriously, what is with you getting dragged into other people’s problems during the holidays? You need a break), so you ended up having to leave them back at his office. By the time that he finally returns to the office he finds the small, cutely decorated box perched precariously right in the middle of his desk, with a small note attached to the top. Confused, but interest peaked enough to approach, the therian plucks the note off with one hand and picks up the box as he settles into his desk chair, reading over your hastily scrawled message.

‘Sorry I couldn’t give this in person but I hope you like em! Apparently they double as emergency snacks, that’s neat,huh? - call me later and tell me what you think! xx’

Popping open the lid of the box, Nomad soon finds out what your message was talking about, and he plucks up one of the cubes between his claws as he holds it up, brows quirking as he takes in the cutesy cat motifs that have been meticulously molded with the sugar cubes to make an undeniably adorable design. He shakes his head a little at the thought of how much bother you must have put yourself through getting so worked up trying to find these little sugar cubes. With that being said he definitely ends up keeping them - after all, imagining how excited you’ll get is enough to make him pluck a few out to try as he fishes out his phone to give you a call.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Cheers (Elder Maxson)

Note: We’re assuming Sole is around the same age as Maxson in this; a middle-aged Sole with 19 year old Maxson is an iffy concept to me. Thank you to the Discord server for fixing my writers block! Also, weird analogies for 500, anyone? Mildly OOC Maxson.

CW: Potential death mention, abstract/rhetorical poisoning

It’s easy, Sole thinks at the end of the day, to drink poison. To tilt your head back and surrender to what may come, no matter what. It’s easy to allow yourself to be captured in the will of whatever's been mixed into your glass, slightly acidic, barely masked, and pretend to be unknowing. Knowing Elder Maxson has been like drinking poison, and so, they think it must be very easy to allow oneself to do so.

They’re staring into the wine that’s been handed to them, a deep plum color swirling in the foggy glass it’s been poured into. In another timeline, this wouldn’t be the last they’d share with him, and there was a much more content life waiting for them at the end of their internal battles. But they often told themself they weren’t one for wishful thinking, and with that, returned their attention to the man himself, who sat, quiet and contemplative, across from them.

On any other evening he’d be lounged across the plush cushions next to them, a sharp contrast to the usual appearance he showed every other member of the Brotherhood. There’d be a lazy grin on his face, a little too much wine wiping away the stern expression that’d been burned into the lines of his skin, and the two of them would be deep in the throws of a playful debate. Sole had lost that privilege, though.

Just as Maxson had lost the privilege of seeing them with their head tilted back, a laugh shaking their frame, delight taking over the weight of the world that they held between their strong shoulders. Two friends, or something more, turned strangers. What a twist. “Is this it?” Sole spoke up. Maxson had resumed his public facade, and they knew he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.

“I suppose it is.”

The meeting of their gazes brought both of their internal battles to the forefront, images of warfields flashing between the pair. Sole clenched their jaw and tilted their head up, still trying to remain casual in the way they spun the wine in the glass. They didn’t dare take a sip; they wouldn’t put it past him to actually poison it, and as much as they cared for him, there was a reason the air was so tense.

Sole had made it into the Brotherhood a little shell shocked from their experiences with the Wasteland, looking for structure and someone to have their back as they fought to survive. Of course, the Brotherhood was much more than that, and didn’t hesitate to introduce their bigotry, disguised as defensive beliefs, as soon as Sole stepped through the doors to the Prydwen.

They were unsure at first of where they stood. Ever the scholar, they tried to remain neutral and stand back, observing, as they made their way through the beginnings of their Brotherhood experience. Other than Nick Valentine, they had never met a synth; maybe he was an exception, and the Brotherhood was right in the idea that they weren’t to be trusted. They’d found themself in the company of Elder Maxson more than once at this point, eager to look through the cracks of the mask he wore and get to know the man behind the ideology, the intense scowls, and the unwavering leadership. They’d begun to debate as a pastime, and slowly, as the tapestry of his beliefs came into full view, they found themself suffocated.

The threads were frayed, woven by generations beforehand. Maxson’s contributions were made for no reason other than that he was told it was right, to add strength to a fabric that only caused pain to those that were innocent. Sole found themself edging closer to the tapestry with a thread ripper and magnifying glass, wanting to take apart every argument and excuse and bring forward the man behind the brainwashing that the Brotherhood was so fond of, but it was too late. It seemed that the threads had been woven into his skin as well, leaving no person outside of his anti-synth ideology.

They needed time away, and after one particularly intense debate-turned-argument, they asked for it. Maxson knew what was happening as soon as they were hesitant to look him in the eye, and when they finally did, there was no vulnerability like he was once given access to. They were choking on the smell of his soap and aftershave, suffocating on the tenseness flooding the room, and needed to get away to think.

After a month in Sanctuary, listening to synths and humans alike recount their tales, their life experiences identical in the way that both types of people hurt and thrived, became overjoyed and mourned losses, Sole went to seek out answers. In the back alleys of Diamond City they heard whispers of an organization, and went to find the Railroad.

They had a long talk with Deacon, looking over his own tapestry with a magnifying glass, shielding their eyes from the reflective, joking threads, so they could see the life lessons hidden beneath. Despite how hard it was to access, they found his tapestry much warmer, if not a bit worn from how many had taken refuge under its fabric. Every time they dug in and pulled at the threads, trying to find a fatal flaw, it held together like no other. One month away and they knew what they had to do.

It was hard to return to the Brotherhood, knowing their days there were limited. They’d seen the people before the ideology, instead of the other way around, and once considered many of them friends. But at the end of the day, the ends of their tapestries were coming loose, and Sole could no longer justify sticking around. They were smarter than that.

Maybe it was obvious, and a little immature, but they avoided Maxson upon their return to the best of their abilities. He tried to reach out to them, calling them in for meetings, upon which they kept their answers short and didn’t give any information as to what they had been up to during their escapades away from the Prydwen. But at the end of his third try, when his expression changed from curious and a little hurt to hardened and stern, they knew he understood. They had their own tapestry now, and didn’t need the refuge of any others. Certainly not his.

So when he invited them to one last evening together, they accepted. There was nothing they weren’t prepared for as they walked through the doors to his quarters and settled down on the couch. It was easier than they expected it to be, but they supposed the time away had already given them the opportunity to sever any hesitancy they would’ve once held.

They found themself indifferent to the intense discomfort in the air that would’ve pinned them to their seat just a month ago. Their breath remained in their lungs, their hands didn’t shake. They tilted their glass and stared at the liquid inside before placing it on the table in front of them and folding their hands together in their lap. “I sincerely hope you don’t plan on doing anything stupid, Sole.” Maxson’s voice was harsh, biting. He sipped his own drink.

They found a small smile betraying their lack of fear of the man in front of them. With a light sigh they glanced out the window. “Arthur, please. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been picking apart my brain for the last few months in the name of getting to know each other. Do you really believe me to be stupid?”

“I didn’t. And then you left for a month and returned doubting Brotherhood ideals. It seems you still have time to prove me wrong.”

“I think we can both agree a resistance to brainwashing is the exact opposite of stupidity.”

Sole sighed and brushed the palms of their hands down their thighs. They stood with little hesitancy and made their way over to one of the windows that decorated the walls of Maxson’s quarters. The view was one of the few things they’d miss about the Prydwen.

Of course, they supposed they could understand how members of the Brotherhood became so out of touch with the Wasteland. Everything felt so untouchable from their perch in the sky, rocking gently in the light winds that flooded the ground with radiation. Staying, surrounded by the hivemind and far away from any contradicting opinions, would’ve been the death of any independent thought from Sole.

They would miss Arthur, not Maxson, and the way they thought they were two separate people just a few months ago. It was easy to pretend, when he had been less than sober and forgot everything he thought was his responsibility. His thoughts flowed more readily into speech; the first slip he had made was calling Sole beautiful as they leaned against that very window, looking up at the stars that almost appeared to be within reach from where they sat in the sky.

It had caught Sole by surprise, though they supposed it shouldn’t have. Yes, Arthur was in a position of power, arguably one of the highest in the Wasteland across the factions, but they had spent enough time with him at that point to know he fell victim to alcohol. Well, that’s what they pretended.

Arthur was no lightweight. They could see it in the way his movements still remained controlled in contrast to his words. It was an excuse, they’d realized, after just two nights, to say what was on his mind instead of what he had been taught to say.

Maybe that’s why they thought they could get to him at first. Unravel some of the tapestry that had dug deep into his skin and latched onto his mind. It seemed as if he wanted free of the Brotherhood mindset and the way everyone looked to him. It showed when they were together in the low lamplight of his quarters, alone in a space that didn’t allow for his facade, and he looked 19 again instead of aged beyond recognition.

His hand brushed across their cheek and they fought hard to keep their attention out the window; they wouldn’t let him exploit vulnerability that should’ve never been given in the first place. They were hyper aware of the placement of his hand, knowing that into two smooth motions they could be on the floor, dead. Instead, he hooked a finger under their chin, and they felt a kiss placed to their forehead. Then, he was out of their space and across the room, busying himself behind his desk with paperwork. They were dismissed, for the last time.

Just a week later, it was easier than expected for the words to spill out of their mouth and into Deacon’s ears. Descriptions of the Brotherhood’s guard shifts, the weakest point of their aircraft, protocols and every hidden weapon they knew about. They didn’t choke, didn’t waver. They had seen too much upon their return to the Railroad; synths injured from the hate the Brotherhood had spread, members fatally wounded when they jumped to defend. Sole had reveled too long in the privilege of ignorance and the company of a man who, despite being tragically indoctrinated, they could no longer lend sympathy to when they had to bear witness to the consequence of his actions.

Maxson’s last mistake was assuming that the silent goodbye they’d shared just one week earlier would be their last. Sole was ready to take a torch to his tapestry, and they were the last person he should’ve assumed was stupid enough to let him go easily.

[callboxkat]

Just Your Average Ghost Hunt

Author’s note: I felt like writing a one-shot today, taking a break from my longer WIPs, and here’s the result! I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Virgil has a YouTube channel where he talks about cryptids and conspiracy theories. Tonight, he sets out with his friend Roman on a ghost hunt. 

Warnings: ghosts, talk of death and murder, some crude humor, fear, Remus

Word Count: 1818

Writing Masterpost!

...

“You remembered the camera, right?”

“Wha—of course I remembered the camera! Come on, give me a little credit.”

“And it’s charged?”

Roman pouted at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Virgil smirked, hopping out of the car. “Just checking.”

“It’s your camera, isn’t charging it your job?”

“Knowing you, you’d happily run down the battery before we even got here, with all those selfies you take.”

“That’s what my phone’s for,” Roman claimed, jutting out his chin. He slung the camera strap around his neck, double checking that it was secure.

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re not going to get in trouble for coming here, are we?” Roman asked, following after his friend and staring up the road.

“What, are you scared, Princey?”

“No, I just—”

“Because if you’re scared,” Virgil sighed dramatically, “we can go, I guess, but you have to be the one to tell Logan we still haven’t gotten his proof of ghosts. It’s your fault if he thinks we just couldn’t find it.”

Roman huffed. “What is it with you and proving to him that ghosts are real, anyway, Winnie the Boo? Isn’t talking about cryptids and conspiracies more your usual gig?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the best nickname you can come up with? Wow, you really must be scared.”

“What, we’re on a ghost hunt, aren’t we? And don’t avoid the question!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, closing the car door. He took out a flashlight and switched it on, casting their surroundings in high relief. “I wasn’t, calm down. I just want to see the look on the dude’s face when we show him actual video of a ghost.”

The pair’s boots crunched on gravel, twigs, and assorted debris as they began the trek up the long-disused road towards their destination. “So,” Roman asked as they clambered over a fallen tree, “what are you going to do if we can’t find one?”

“I have Photoshop.”

“Well—then why are we even out here? Just photoshop yourself up a ghost and be done with it, Wail-E!”

“That nickname was even worse. And besides—” Virgil hopped down, reaching up to help Roman, whose jacket had gotten caught on a snapped branch— “this is way more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman grumbled, inspecting his coat for damage.

“Come on, it’s not that far now.” Virgil started forward, flashlight held high. Roman scrambled after, not about to be left behind.

“I don’t like this.” Roman peered around at the surrounding trees, whose shapes and shadows seemed to warp as they passed, reaching towards the pair like spindly arms ready to drag them into the dark.

“I didn’t ask you to come. I’ve done plenty of these without you.”

“You’ve done plenty of these with Janus,” Roman corrected. “In our friends’ houses. Not in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to put this off just because he’s got a stomach bug. It’s supposed to rain all next week.”

Roman swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to let you come to some old abandoned house alone.”

Virgil turned, putting a hand on his chest and grinning. “My hero. Now turn on the camera, I see the house up there.”

Roman squinted, and saw that, in fact, he could make out the shape of some kind of structure ahead. It looked like it was practically part of the forest now, trees grown around it and nearly obscuring the shape in the darkness.

“Welcome to Virgil and Roman’s final moments,” Roman said, turning on the camera slung around his neck, “documented for all those who want to see us torn apart by crazy woods people, or bears, or wolves, or, possibly, ghosts.”

“Very funny,” Virgil said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Roman said. “I don’t know, set the scene.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you keep talking, isn’t it?”

Roman stuck his tongue out.

Virgil turned to face the camera. “My name is Virgil, and the lug behind the camera is my friend Roman. Tonight, we’ve got a treat. We’re visiting an abandoned house, deep in the woods.”

Roman silently shook his head, amused at the exaggeration. The nearest major road was only a ten minute walk away.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s—”

“Is Wikipedia where you heard this “legend”?”

“Shut up, Princey. And no, it’s not, actually. Will you let me continue?”

Roman held up his free hand in surrender.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s, but no one had been able to stay in the house for more than a few months at a time even before that. Apparently, there was a murder here decades earlier, and the ghost of that person has haunted the place ever since.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Roman and I are here to get the first solid proof of this ghost, and share its existence with all of you.”

“I’m sure YouTube will love it.”

“I am so glad I can edit out all your dumb comments.”

“You know you love them, Count Woe-laf.”

“You’re going to make me wish I’d waited to come with J, I just know it. Just make sure you’re holding the camera steady.”

Roman smiled innocently, then turned the camera up to focus on the house.

“We’ve just arrived,” Virgil said, “And are about to head inside. Wish us luck.”

“Virge, you know this isn’t live, right?”

“Yes, Roman, I know that,” Virgil said. “Let me put in a little flair, okay?”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

Virgil ignored this comment and approached the house, peering around the crumbling façade of the dilapidated structure. “It looks like the front door is padlocked, but this window is broken. We can put one of our jackets on the sill and climb in.”

“Wait—whose jacket, Virge?” Roman stepped back, clutching his own protectively.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his own jacket.. “Some of us thought better than to bring our favorite jacket on a ghost hunt.”

“If that roof collapses on us, I don’t want cheap plastic all that’s protecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure a jacket won’t save you if the roof collapses; but go off, I guess.”

“Thank you; I will.”

Virgil laid his jacket over the window sill and hopped inside. Roman climbed in after him, turning on his own smaller flashlight and looking around warily.

Dust motes hung in the air, which smelled of mildew. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house, each covered in a sheet that might have once been white. The space had not been spared from the elements. Weeds even grew between some of the rotting floor boards.

“I know this is where I’d want to live, if I were a ghost,” Roman commented dryly, eyeing a grimy puddle that had collected in a fold of one of the sheets.

“Ghosts are tied to places where they died, or to objects that were important to them. Or their body. Odds are, this ghost has no choice but to live here.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, anyway. How are we proving there’s a ghost here?”

Virgil slung off his backpack and pulled out a wooden board. “We’ll start with this. It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board?”

“Yeah. It channels spiritual energy and lets them talk to us.”

“I know what a Ouija board is,” Roman sighed. “I was just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you brought one.”

Virgil sat down on the floor, beginning to set up the board. “Set up the tripod, so it can see both of us and the board. You sit across from me.”

Roman did as Virgil asked, then sat across from him. Each perched his fingertips atop the small, triangular piece of wood with a hole in it, which Virgil said was called a planchette. They slowly brought the planchette around in a circle, with Virgil narrating what they were doing and why, probably for the less supernatural-versed Youtube fans. Then Virgil said some mumbo-jumbo words about positive energy and communication, whatever; and then they finally they got to the questions.

“Is there a spirit with us in this house?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Roman started to think that maybe Logan had the right idea, before the planchette slid over to Yes.

That was you, wasn’t it, Virgil?

Virgil was trying to hide a grin. “How many spirits are here with us?”

1.

“What’s your name?”

The planchette slid over to B.

“Brandon? Bethany? Bella? Benjamin?”

U.

“…Buford? Bucky?”

T.

Virgil frowned. “Butler?”

T.

Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing.

S.

“Roman, stop messing with the planchette,” Virgil snapped.

Roman made an indignant noise. “I didn’t!”

“Spirit, I apologize for my friend. What is your name?”

B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to tell us,” Roman said, shrugging and trying not to laugh.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated.

“Maybe it’s a kid. How old are you?” he asked.

6.

“You’re six years old?” Virgil’s mouth opened. “That’s so y…”

The planchette moved again, interrupting him.

9.

“69,” Virgil repeated. “Okay, maybe not a kid.” He glanced at Roman, looking suspicious, as if wondering whether he’d changed the results again. Roman pouted at him in response.

“How did you die?”

“Wow, that’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” Roman asked. “Ask it how it’s doing, at least.”

Virgil sighed. “They don’t usually stick around for long, Roman.” Then seemingly deciding to humor him, he asked, “Spirit, how are you?”

Yes.

“Well, that’s… an answer,” Roman said. Maybe the Ouija board was broken or something.

“How did you die?” Virgil asked, repeating his earlier question.

The planchette hovered for a few seconds.

K-N-I-V-E-S.

Roman swallowed.

“Oh.” Virgil shifted. “What year did that happen?”

4-2-0.

“Roman, seriously, stop.”

“I swear, it’s not me.”

“Fine, then let’s try again. What year did you die?”

D-E-A-D.

“Yes, you died,” Virgil said. “Do you remember what year that happened?”

Y-O-U A-R-E D-E-A-D.

Roman’s eyes widened. Virgil wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Um, Virge? I think maybe we should leave.”

“Are… are you a good spirit?” Virgil asked, his voice uncertain.

No.

The lights above flared into life, far, far too bright, like small suns. They shouldn’t have worked, even if they were still connected to power, or had the bulbs replaced in the past decade. Wind rushed through the room from an invisible source, the temperature dropping.

POP!

The light above them burst, sending sparks falling around them. The rest of the lights followed in rapid succession. The tripod fell over as if pushed, crashing to the ground between the pair and sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman and Virgil screamed, scrambling for the exit, pushing each other through the window, back into the woods. They raced back towards the car, both the camera and Virgil’s jacket forgotten.

Hysterical, cackling laughter followed them through the trees.

[infinitefandomimagines]

I Can’t Lose You - Poe Dameron x Reader

-

WARNINGS: RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MENTIONS OF TORTURE, ANGST, BLOOD, YELLING

REQUEST: @lookinsidemyhead could I maybe ask for a Star Wars imagine? Like a poexfem!reader Maybe like instead of chewie being captured it was the reader and when they rescue her she’s a little out it from the torture in the interrogation room. angst with happy ending bc they escape

+

A poe dameron tros x reader where reader gets captured with chewy and poe rescues her, lots of angsty poe after losing reader because he thinks she's dead, then fluff when they reunite

-

The only thing that could pull the team's stunned gazes from the fiery explosion of the First Order ship was Poe's horrifying scream. The way your name ripped through his throat made Finn's heart stop and his blood run cold.

Poe took no caution in his efforts to make his way down from the rocky structure their getaway ship stood perched on, slipping and nearly falling more than once.

His heels kicked up sand as he sprinted towards the wrecked ship and Rey, who still stood frozen as the realization of what she'd just done dawned on her. Finn had to stop Poe from running straight to her, he'd never hurt Rey, but after what just happened he definitely wasn't thinking straight.

Finn wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him back and restricting his movement as he struggled to get free.

"What did you do?" Poe yelled at Rey, the high pitched crack in his voice was enough to send daggers through anyone listening's heart. Poe never stopped struggling to break free from Finn's grasp, and it was getting to the point where he just might succeed.

"Chewie I need some help down here!" Finn called up to the Wookie. There was no way he could get Poe to the ship himself, not when he was like this.

"Poe we need to go!" Finn yelled as he tried to pull Poe towards the ship, knowing if they stayed any longer your life wouldn't be the only fatality.

"No! No, I can't leave her!"

"She's gone, Poe. There's nothing we can-"

Finn stopped short as Poe finally broke free from his grasp. However, he didn't get very far, Chewie had made it down just in time to grab him.

"Chewie!" Finn yelled out, "Get him to the ship we need to get out of here! Rey come on!" Poe tried to fight his way out again, but the Wookie was too strong, forcibly pulling him back to the ship. He didn't stop fighting until Chewie released him once the ship had taken off with everyone safely inside.

There was a heavy tension in the air, nobody knew what to say. It's like they were just waiting for Poe to lash out like he usually did when he was upset, but he didn't. The burst of yelling and cursing the team was anxiously waiting for never came. Instead, he simply collapsed onto a storage box and with his head in his hands, he sobbed.

Finn watched his best friend, one who usually stood so strong and fiery, completely fall apart. Rey's heart ached in a way she didn't know it could, the thought that she'd caused this haunting her mind.

BB-8 slowly rolled over to Poe, letting out a series of confused beeps. "She's gone, buddy," Poe said in a broken voice. The small droid let out a high pitched whine mixed with sad beeps.

"This can't be for nothing," Finn finally spoke up, his voice soft as he struggled to speak through his own tears. "We can't let her die for nothing."

"She had the dagger with her, and without that. . ." Rey's voice was grim.

"So true, the inscription lives only in my memory now," C-3PO spoke up. All heads turned towards the droid. "Hang on, the inscription from the dagger is in your memory?" Finn asked.

"Yes master Finn, but the translation from a forbidden language cannot be retrieved, that is short of a complete redactive memory bypass. It is an extremely dangerous procedure usually performed by criminals."

"Alright, how do we do that?" Finn asked as if there was no question as to what the next step was.

"I know a black market droidsmith," Poe finally spoke up, his eyes glazed over and red. "He's on Kijimi." Poe didn't like the idea of going to Kijimi, but he didn't like the idea of you dying for nothing more.

"For Y/N," Finn said, giving Poe's shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah, for Y/N," Poe repeated, the sound of your name leaving a sad and bitter taste in his mouth.

-

Kijimi went just about how Poe thought it would. They had a rocky start, but in the end, they were able to retrieve the inscription from C-3PO's memory.

The droid's eyes glowed an ominous red as it recited the location to the Wayfinder.

"The Endor system? Where the last war ended?" Finn asked. No one had the opportunity to answer him as the entire building started shaking. Everyone shared concerned looks, but it was Rey who was the first to run outside to see what was causing the commotion.

"Ren's destroyer," she announced, looking up at the large, menacing ship. "He's here?" Finn asked, looking up at her. But Rey didn't answer, it seemed as though her entire body had gone stiff. "Y/N. . ." She spoke softly, but loud enough for Finn and Poe to hear.

"What about her?" Poe asked bitterly, your name sending a dagger through his heart.

"She's alive, she's on that ship," Rey turned around to face her friends.

"What?" Poe whispered, his voice cracking slightly. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but this time the tears weren't ones of sorrow. He felt a small glimmer of hope bubble up inside of him. He no longer slouched, his back straightening up and shoulders rolling back, Rey's words bringing a new light to his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Finn questioned.

"She must have been on a different transport," Rey spoke, her words still laced with disbelief.

"We have to go get her," Poe said eagerly, grabbing his things and looking around at the group. Everyone nodded in agreement, all except C-3PO, who sat confused, his only thought being to introduce himself.

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem," Poe muttered, a little annoyed at their situation, but not even C-3PO's lost memory could damage his spirits. His head already fantasizing about seeing you again, creating multiple scenarios in his head.

Once everyone was ready, they rushed from Zorii's hideout, the girl following them just to be sure they made it to their ship.

"Thank you," Poe rushed out to Zorii once they'd reached their ship. He didn't plan on waiting for a response, but a grip on his forearm stopped him dead in his tracks. "Poe-" Zorii spoke up, only to be cut short.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, but you can come with us," He offered. Though his feelings for his past relationship were gone, he still cared about Zorii as a friend and leaving her behind just felt wrong. But Zorii shook her head, "I can't," she answered sadly, "But take this, it'll grant you passage to Ren's ship."

Poe stared at the shiny medallion, "I can't, it's yours-"

"Anyone two eyes and half a brain can see how much you care about this girl, it's worth more to you than it is to me."

Poe paused before lifting his hands and gently taking the medallion from Zorii, "Thank you," he breathed out, wrapping Zorii in a tight embrace. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Zorii chuckled a bit as she returned the hug before lightly pushing Poe towards his ship, "Now go, save your girl and win the war."

Poe nodded, mumbling one more 'thank you' before boarding the ship with the others.

-

Getting inside Ren's destroyer had been easier than anticipated, especially with the held of the medallion. However, searching the maze of a ship deemed a difficult task. It seemed as though with each hall they turned down there were more and more stormtroopers.

The next corner they turned no one had their blasters at the ready. Rey quickly jumped in front of Finn and Poe, waving her hand in front of the stormtroopers, "It is okay that we are here," she rushed out.

"It is okay that you're here," one of the troopers repeated.

"You're relieved that we're here."

"Oh thank God you're here," The trooper's shoulders relaxed and he lowered his blaster to his side, as did the other.

"Does she do that to us?" Poe asked, a little confused as to what exactly just happened. Rey just ignored him, instead, she asked the troopers for where you were being held, which they gladly provided.

It was a mad dash to the room you were in, the name of the room being "Interrogation room #6" worrying him.

At some point, Rey ran off on her own, but when Finn tried to follow her Poe gripped his arm, "We need to find Y/N, Rey can handle herself." Chewie howled in agreement with Poe, and Finn knew better than to argue with his friends.

It didn't take long to reach the room you were being held in and even less to shoot the lock on the door and bust in. Poe winced as he entered the familiar room, the dark lighting and metal chair-like structure sending painful memories of his time spent being tortured by Kylo Ren. He didn't even want to imagine what you must have been through, though sadly he could.

Poe quickly shook all thoughts that plagued his mind, you were the only thing that mattered right now. Nothing else. He approached the chair slowly, scared that what he finds might not be what he hoped for.

His heart sank when he saw your unconscious form strapped down to the chair by restraints. A bruise had already formed on the left side of your face, just over your cheekbone. There was a bloody cut that stretched across your right temple which was beginning to form its own bruise, and a trail of blood trickled down and dripped onto your shirt from your nose. Your chest moved up and down slowly as you took in shallow breaths. Poe didn't even want to imagine what the parts of you he couldn't see looked like.

Poe gently placed his shaking hands on either side of your cheeks, cupping your face. The pad of his thumb lightly brushed over you bruise, examining it. "Y/N," he spoke softly, "Y/N, baby please wake up."

Your entire body suddenly tensed up as your struggled against your restraints, prompting Poe to quickly pull his hands away from you, terrified he hurt you.

"No, please. . ." You mumbled, not fully awake, your eyes screwed shut. "Please. . . Don't."

"We need to get her out of these restraints," Poe instructed, trying his best to hide the panic in his voice. Chewie let out a wail, pressing a red button on the wall adjacent to the chair. There was a hissing sound followed by a click as your restraints popped open.

You blinked your eyes a bit at the noise and sudden release of pressure on your wrists and ankles. A familiar face came into view as you blinked away the hazy glaze from your eyes.

"Poe?" You whispered, not quite sure if Kylo Ren was playing tricks on your mind again or not.

"It's me, baby, you're okay." He said, helping you out of the metal chair and pulling you into his arms. One arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head, your cheeks resting against his chest. You winced as he accidentally pressed against your bruised ribcage, but in all honesty, you didn't care. You were just relieved to be back in his arms, and Poe was more than happy to have you there.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled into your hair, "I shouldn't have let you go out there alone."

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."

"Guys I really hate to break up the moment, but we gotta go!" Finn rushed out, earning a bellow of agreement from Chewie.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Poe said, pulling away from the embrace. "Can you walk?"

You nodded, however as soon as you took the first step forward your head started spinning and your vision blurred. You quickly reached out and gripped Poe's arm to stop yourself from losing balance. Poe instinctively caught you, holding up the majority of your weight.

"Chewie!" Poe called out, gesturing to you. The Wookie swiftly placed your arm around his waist, and wrapped a furry arm around your back and under your arm, holding you up.

Poe and Finn walked ahead of you, blasters at the ready, inspecting each hallway for hostiles. You limped behind them, Chewie helping you walk by holding you upright.

And after Poe being shot, all four of you nearly being executed, only to be saved by an unlikely ally, you made it to the Millennium Falcon.

Chewie gently set you down on the small cot in Poe's quarters while Finn rushed to the cockpit, trying his best to remember everything Poe had taught him about flying. Chewie soon joined him, helping him get the Falcon in the air so they could go find Rey.

Poe stayed with you in his quarters, sorting through a med pack to find supplies to bandage and clean your wounds. A soft groan escaped your throat as the ship took a sharp turn, harshly shaking the cot you were laying on, sending a wave of pain through your body.

Poe wet a cloth and started dabbing at the dried blood on your temple. You let out a hiss as the sudden contact stung. Poe slipped his free hand into yours, attempting to provide any form of comfort he could.

"What did they do to you?" Poe asked as he moved to clean the blood from under your nose. The question wasn't directed towards you, more of Poe just thinking out loud. However, his question still sent a chill up your spine as you began to replay the horrible things Kylo Ren and his minions did to get information out of you. You were able to refrain from giving them anything up until Kylo Ren used the force to crawl around in your mind. The pain was indescribable.

"Hey, it's okay," Poe comforted, stopping what he was doing. He'd noticed the grimace on your face and how you tensed up when he brought up his question. "You're safe, he can't hurt you."

You nodded weakly, waiting for the horrible thoughts to pass as Poe got back to work.

Poe worked quickly to clean and bandage your wounds, finishing up a matter of minutes. While he packed up the medical kit, you attempted to sit up, but the action proved to be a bit more painful than you anticipated. You inhaled sharply as a sharp pain exploded from your side, your hand instinctively flew to your bruised ribcage, holding it as if that would help the pain subside.

"Here, let me help," Poe said softly when he noticed your struggle. He placed a hand on your back and the other lightly grabbed your arm as he pulled you to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Your hand still clutched your side as you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

The bed sank beside you as Poe took a seat beside you, his hand rubbing comforting circle in your back. You leaned into him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"Do you want something for the pain," he asked, there was a bit of tension in his voice as he tried to hold back tears, he hated seeing you in so much pain. "No, it'll pass. I'm fine." And eventually, it did, leaving you relieved and a bit more cautious about how you moved.

You lifted your head from Poe's shoulder, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile graced his lips and his hand moved from your back to your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw. "I thought I'd lost you," he said in a shaky voice, tears threatening to spill. "And it made me realize you're the one thing I can't live without."

You wrapped your fingers around Poe's arm, just below his wrist, rubbing small circles in the back of his hand with the pad of your thumb.

"I can't lose you," his voice cracked as his eyes glazed over with tears.

"You won't, I promise," you confirmed.

Poe pulled you into him, gently pressing his lips to yours. His hand slid down from your neck to your waist, his other hand finding it's way to your hip. He pulled you into his lap, breaking the kiss to fully envelop you in a hug, careful not to touch your bruised side. One arm kept hold of your waist while the other crossed your back, his hand placed on your shoulder. Poe rested his head in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

You rested a hand on his back while the other held the back of his head. You lightly ran your fingers through his messy curls.

You let out a sigh of content, finally feeling at ease being in Poe's arms. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

TAG LIST

@gracielou0518 @booklove103

[vulturhythm]

i’m what’s left when children go to war - one

Pain and panic alike clog Jaskier's throat, welling until he can scarcely breathe for the fear overwhelming his every sense. He has never felt this dread, this terror before - he stumbles, foot catching on a loose brick in the pavement, and nearly collapses, crying out when he catches himself just in time to keep running, running, running...

The streets of Athens are black as pitch, torches and great vases of fire doing little to illuminate the spaces through which he flees - black as pitch and silent, too, their quiet broken only by his screams and sobs and pleas for help. They all go unanswered... have been unanswered from the start, for who would spare a second's thought of mercy for a simple slave? He's nothing more than filth to the people safe in their houses, safe away from the monster chasing short at his heels. Of course he'd ran toward the wealthier part of the city, of course he'd ran straight into the realm of the very people who despise his kind above all else -

He trips again, and this time he doesn't quite manage to catch himself in time. Jaskier collapses to the cobbled pavement with another cry, the impact on his knees and palms sending spikes of discomfort up through his frame, and before he can drag himself upright once more, the monster is atop him, grabbing him by the shoulder, the waist, the hips, pushing and pulling and turning, and Jaskier yells out another plea for help as those vicious hands flip him to his back again, as those violating hands grab for his arms, and Jaskier curses aloud and kicks out blindly, and he takes only fleeting relief in the grunt of pain he gets when his foot connects - only fleeting, for it is dashed away in a heartbeat -

for the monster is pinning him by the throat to the road, is leering down at him with a face twisted with cruel victory, and Jaskier grabs for the monster's wrist and tries to pry his hand away, but it is too strong, has always been too strong, and as Jaskier screams out again, the monster reaches into the folds of its chiton, draws a dagger that glints bright in the distant firelight, and -

Pain worse than that of before explodes from the epicenter of Jaskier's torso, and his scream echoes high and cracked and afraid as his hands fly to grab for the base of the dagger plunged deep into his flesh. The monster above him merely smiles, holding him firm for another eternity until the world is fading into gray, his lungs heaving for air that he can't quite draw, his grip going weak... and then, just as Jaskier is certain he will die here, pinned beneath his rapist, the monster lets go, ripping the dagger free with a savage twist that tears another scream from Jaskier's aching throat.

As the cry dies off, the monster turns to leave.

He has the strength to do little more than lay there limp at first, sucking in air even though the very act of breathing sends unthinkable pain through his bleeding torso. Staring up at the star-flecked sky, he feels his blood flowing hot and wet and free through his fingers, pressed as tightly as he can manage to the uneven hole. He wants nothing more than to die... and yet - and yet he knows that he cannot.

Jaskier is certain he has never before been so broken, so afraid, as when he forces his body back into motion, turning onto his knees and steadying himself with a single hand on the cobblestone. He coughs, hardly even taken aback by his own blood when it splatters from his lips onto the pavement beneath him. Though his head is spinning, he pushes himself up, first to both knees, then one, then upright; here he staggers, the world swaying around him, or is he swaying in the world? It's difficult to tell - difficult to tell much of anything when colors are going pale and lines are going blurry... but he cannot die. He lurches into motion, both hands clasped together against the wound in an attempt to stop the flow.

Even now, he knows his efforts are in vain.

He grits his teeth until they ache as he stumbles forward along the path, every stride uneven, every stride unbelievably agonizing. It feels as though his innards have been torn and ground to bits, as though they're leaking out between his shaking fingers along with his life force, and it feels as though his hips and thighs will splinter apart with the weight of each step, as though they'll simply crumble to dust under the abuse... but he cannot die. Jaskier calls out again, high and broken, begging for somebody, anybody to take mercy, and he feels a hint of vengeance twist its way into his heart when only the quiet of the Athens aristocracy answers him. He should not - cannot - be surprised. Of course they would turn a blind eye to anything that does not involve themselves.

For all that he was frantic and running blind before, Jaskier knows where he runs toward now - has known it since the moment he pushed himself to shaking feet. If he can only make it there, if he can only last long enough to claim sanctuary and beg for help, maybe he stands a fighting chance. Maybe his life can be spared... maybe it is not quite too late.

Jaskier feels as though he's already dead by the time he turns the corner onto another wide avenue, by the time he lifts his head and looks forward to the massive structure at its end. Torches are lit on the outer walls, and warm light falls onto the steps from the interior. For the first time, a glimmer of hope lights itself in Jaskier's chest; he stumbles once again in his efforts to move faster, nearly doubling over with another coughing fit that sprays his blood onto the pavement. Someone will be displeased with that, he thinks, brief and wild, able to imagine the disgruntled face of a wealthy man when he must walk around a splash of servant's blood come dawn. I'll have to clean it up...

He pushes these thoughts aside when he comes up to the steps, drawing in what little air his burning lungs can hold to cry out once more - a plea for sanctuary, for help, for someone to hear him -

and as he takes the first step, he sees a shadow cast on the walls inside move, take interest, and he dares to hope, and he begs aloud again -

and as he takes the second step, he hears a startled voice, and the embers of maybe flash brighter -

and as he takes the third step -

as he takes the third step, he doubles forward again, another fit of coughing spraying his blood onto the marble, and as he tries to recover, as he tries to lift his head and press on forward, he overbalances, and he slips, and he falls.

Pain shoots through his skull, and brightness flares across his vision in the instant before his world goes black.

A vulture perched upon the temple's roof watches, head cocked in its usual sardonic way, as the slave's skull cracks and bleeds on the edge of the next step - as Jaskier goes still, scarcely breathing, upon the threshold of the temple of Ares.

- - -

The realm of Ares is much the same as that of all the rest, albeit grimmer for its context. A sprawling Athenian estate dominates its bulk, but where the homes of Aphrodite or even Apollo are bright in palette, Ares' is dimmer, every color seeming duller, and where theirs are built of marble, Ares' is built of whitewashed stone. Where gold adorns the corners and detailing of the other gods' dwellings, simple silver plates Ares'. The gardens and wandering stream throughout the courtyard are less vibrant than those that can be found elsewhere, almost as if the somber nature of Ares' dominion has reached the plants themselves, stunting their growth with shared sorrow and mourning. Even the land upon which the aristocratic home rests is duller than the rest, trees less impressive, grass less green.

No matter. It is, for better or for worse, a house - Ares hesitates to call it a home.

He hesitates, in fact, to even call himself Ares, for the deity that first held the name has been among Elysium for many centuries now. Not that the mortals know any better, of course... he didn't, either, not when he was alive. How many decades has it been? Four, five, since he was blessed to take over the godly throne? Enough that he no longer remembers the name of the woman from whom he took the mantle. Blessed. He scoffs at the thought. No... no one who knew the truth would ever call godhood a blessing.

He is so accustomed to the sound of the veil being rent apart that he gives it little thought when the dull hiss and rush of air signifies the arrival of the keres. It is an almost daily occurrence, for the androktasiai do not rest, their cruel wiles unending; but, he thinks, as he sets his book aside and makes to stand from his chair, he does not recall sensing a current war...

"My liege," comes a familiar voice, and he turns, forcing only the barest smile for the spirit he considers a friend before he's fully facing the keres. "We bring an unusual soul before you today."

It is on the tip of his tongue to say something nonchalant and bitter - I have seen every possible manner of death thus far, Renfri, I doubt you can surprise me - but as his eyes drop to the body cradled in the ker's arms, he stalls, freezing in place.

He has seen much, yes - has seen heads crushed under horse's hooves, has seen throats torn and gaping, has seen torsos riddled with arrows and pierced through with spears and swords - and he has grown... not accustomed to, but acquainted with the hideous cruelty of war. Many soldiers are young, many cut down before they're truly given the chance to live; he is no stranger to the sight of ruined armor and frightened eyes overflowing with tears. He is, after all, the god of war. Soldiers' deaths are everyday to him.

This... this boy held close to Renfri's chest... he wears no armor. He scarcely wears even his tunic, the swath of fabric torn in such a way that looks as if a wild thing set its claws to the cloth; what remains is soaked through with blood. His head is resting limp on Renfri's shoulder, dark hair tousled and matted with blood that runs steadily from a fissure in his skin and skull.

He is not a soldier.

"What is this?" the god of war asks sharply, stepping forward. At Renfri's back and flanks, the other keres edge backward, respectful of the anger they no doubt sense building in his chest. "This isn't a soldier, you've brought me a boy, for how old he looks - I haven't laid a claim on anyone, why are you wasting his dying seconds here?"

Renfri cuts him off before he can launch into another tirade, sounding impossibly patient, a little condescending; just as always, he subsides. "He fell upon your temple stairs."

With that, he goes still, golden eyes going wide as they rest on the youth's face, pallid with the grave. Dread overpowers anger, and in an instant, he feels nothing more than fear. He had hoped - had prayed, as idiotic as that was - that he would never be faced with this instance. Who would seek out Ares for sanctuary? Who would trust the god of war with their lives? "No," he says aloud. "No. I won't - I won't claim him."

"You have no choice," Renfri reminds him. "If it's revealed that he sought sanctuary before the judges, he will be sent back to you regardless."

He grits his jaw, sparing the briefest of glares for the russet-haired woman as his fingers knot into fists at his sides. It is easy, now, to turn away dying soldiers, to promise them rest in Elysium - even when he can sense the evil rolling off their skin, even when he knows it to be a lie. Standing here, a gods-damned youth presented before him, soul ripe for the taking, he struggles to find within himself the strength to resist. He knows he will never pass on the mantle of war, knows he will never subject another soul to the horrors to which he's adjusted... knows there will be no point in accepting the young thing.

No point, and yet... and yet he can at least offer a place of comfort, the solace of company, for the boy's eternal rest.

"Give him to me," he grits out at last, his tone as neutral as he can make it. "Let me hold him."

Renfri complies immediately, as she always does, stepping forward to meet him with outstretched arms. He takes the boy from her protective cradle with practiced care, sinking to his knees that he might hold the boy closer still. He is not surprised when the young thing stirs, a whimper of protest rising in his throat; he is, however, surprised when that bleeding head tips sideways to rest against his chest. He is afraid.

"Can you hear me, young one?" the god of war whispers, grimacing at the feel of blood-drenched fabric on his hands. He readjusts his grip to be as delicate as possible, knowing that the boy's pain will soon cease forever - he can sense no aura of hatred, although... although there is something else, something unique, new. "You are safe now."

As weak as the little thing is, trembling and limp in his embrace, it startles him when heavy eyelashes begin to flutter open, and startles him even further when the shade of blue revealed beneath seems brighter, purer, than even the clearest of skies, for all that they are hazy with death's fog. "Can you speak? I would like your name, if you feel it fit to tell."

He expects no response, but one comes regardless, after a pause that hangs heavy in the air with confusion and pain. "Jaskier," murmurs the boy, and his voice is so subdued, so broken... so afraid, and yet so different to the fear of all the soldiers the god rejects day by day, so different to the terror of death... so beautiful. "My... my name is Jaskier."

The boy's voice cracks there, and the god steadies him as best he can, freeing a hand to brush those matted locks of deep brown aside. Something in his chest goes tight when the boy - Jaskier - tips his head into the touch and lets his eyes drift shut again, so clearly dazed, desperate for kindness. Jaw firm, he lifts his head, meeting Renfri's gaze. "Who killed him?" The question is simple, direct. This was a murder... and part of his steel heart rages at the thought of anyone or anything slaughtering a creature this beautiful, this fragile.

Here, Renfri's own face shutters, and she reaches up to remove the hound's head helmet she wears, balancing it in her arms. There is something new in her eyes, something tense and vicious... a memory. "One of my women saw him fleeing after he was stabbed," she says, her eyes dropping to Jaskier. "She said that the man turned and ran before she could properly see, but he had been chasing the boy for quite some time, she guesses."

"He was nearly inside your temple, my liege," another ker speaks up from Renfri's side; the god's gaze flicks sideways to her. "He was coughing his blood onto the stairs when he slipped and fell... lost his balance, no doubt. His skull... I do believe he is to die immediately."

The war god's face is impassive, though his spirit aches. So close to sanctuary... so close to salvation... and yet, cursed now... your pain will cease, but your suffering will not...

Another weak sound from the boy in his arms draws him back to the present, and he brushes his fingers through those locks again, holding bright blue eyes as they open again. "What happened to you?" he asks him, running his fingertips along the edges of the split in Jaskier's skin. The boy flinches, then stills, no doubt too overwhelmed to feel any specific source of agony. "What do you remember?"

Jaskier is quiet, those eyes fading with every labored breath he draws. Conflict is plain in his gaze, in the way he looks away, up to the ceiling overhead. Another broken noise catches halfway up his throat when he shifts in the god's embrace, pressing his hand more firmly to the wound in his torso. "He chased me," he murmurs at last, "once he was done... threatened to kill me if - if I told a soul... I ran, I didn't - I thought I could make it somewhere safe i - in time..."

Confusion must flicker in the god's eyes, for Jaskier's face pinks with shame even through the pallor of death. The boy says nothing more, and the god lifts his eyes once more. "He was assaulted otherwise, my liege," Renfri explains before he can open his mouth to ask, and the edge in her tone - sorrow, empathy, memory - sends yet another arrow through his heart. "... Taken, and not for the first time, either."

Her meaning dawns at the same time Jaskier all but recoils from the words, drawing closer into the god's chest with a wounded noise. At once, the unfamiliar aura he felt makes sense - it is the brush of evil against purity, the effects of cruelty upon the innocence of youth. Something vicious snarls to life deep within his chest, something feral and full of hate for the mortals whose lives he is meant to end. Never before has he more sincerely wished to send war across the lands, that he might get some gods-damned rest. Not for the first time... what have they done to you, little thing?

"You're alright now," he murmurs aloud, his hand coming to cup Jaskier's face; when the boy noses into the hollow of his wrist, steady trembling abating some, his heart aches properly. It's a strange feeling. "You're alright, beautiful one, you're safe here... you will be safe here."

He senses, more than sees, the keres stir, interest piqued. He spares them not a glance.

"Where?" Jaskier is asking, his voice weaker than before. It is easy to tell he will not last much longer. "Where... am I...?"

The god softens then, and he brushes a thumb across the boy's cheekbone, across that smooth, perfect skin. Those brilliant blue eyes flutter, resting at half-mast as Jaskier relaxes into the repetitive motion. "You're in the realm of a god," he murmurs. "You are dying, young one. You've got but a heartbeat left, I believe..."

Fear flickers through those eyes, and he is quick to speak on, keeping his touch just as delicate as before, unfamiliar though it is. "You've nothing to fear. The judges will find you pure, and they will send you back here to live with me - back here for me to protect you."

"You - who are you?" Jaskier asks, and though the fear has faded back into confusion, he sounds... tranquil. It is easy enough to imagine that even the thought of death is better than that of returning to his prior life.

It is that tranquility that convinces the god to shift his touch lower, to press the pad of his thumb into the hollow of the boy's sternum, exposed through the tears in his tunic. Jaskier winces, but protests not, relaxing again nearly immediately; he is too weak to fight. The god of war watches as a simple black design twines itself onto bare skin, bold at first, then fading to nothing: a hound's skull, Ares' claim. "You know me as Ares," he says aloud, "but my name is Geralt."

"Geralt," he murmurs, soft and low. The name sounds enchanting upon his lips, strained though his voice may be. "I'll come back to you...?"

Geralt nods, returning his grip to Jaskier's jaw; he cannot help but smile, faint and barely-there, when the little thing tilts his head back into the touch immediately. So starved for kindness... so starved for help. "You will come back to me," he replies quietly. "You've nothing to fear."

Standing above them, the keres are growing restless; Geralt can sense their anticipation rising. He glances up to Renfri, poised and waiting; when he looks back down, those blue eyes have nearly faded entirely. "You can let go," he tells the boy, as gently as he knows how. "I will be here waiting."

Jaskier says nothing more, too weak to muster words, but something almost like... like peace glints in his eyes. Just as Geralt grows used to the sight, those eyes gloss over entirely, that slender frame going still. The god heaves a sigh, and looks up to Renfri. She is reaching out already, hand open for the wisps of golden smoke that are rising from the boy's parted lips. Geralt watches in silence as the wisps twine themselves about her forearm, the image of dandelions printing brightly upon her skin before disappearing from view.

"You've chosen well," Renfri murmurs, backing off a stride as Geralt lowers Jaskier's corpse and stands. In mere minutes, it will fade, too. "It does you no good, dwelling here alone."

"I don't need your words of pity," he tells her quietly, already turning away. "Go, now. I trust we'll meet again soon."

He does not have to look to know that Renfri rolls her eyes, nor to know that the keres' bodies shift, women morphing into carrion hounds and vultures alike. The veil is torn once more, and the keres slip through; only a moment later, the room goes still.

Geralt is alone.

[thelittleredrobinhood]

Happy Birthday to You

In honor of Batman Day I’ve decided so post my first fic (it was meant for Jason Todd's birthday but hey its only a month late). Also, a special thank you to @reese-haleth for helping me edit!

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Length: 1,900 words

Summary: A song fic to Happy Birthday about four of the most important birthdays in Jason Todd's life.

Trigger Warnings: Homelessness, Major Character death (canonical). If you would like me to add any please let me know. 

12th

Jason runs faster than he had in his entire life, an angry cop close on his tail. Just as he’s about to be caught he notices a fire escape up ahead. Acting quickly, he pulls himself up, still clutching his prize, and climbs out of view. From his hidden perch, he watches as the officer looks around the alley below, then angrily goes on to continue his search elsewhere.

 “Just like taking candy from a baby,” Jason mutters to himself, still half out of breath.

 After another moment he leaves his spot and returns to the streets, making sure to avoid the local cruisers out looking for trouble. Eventually he reaches the part of town even the cops won’t go and he’s home free. Well he’s free, he doesn’t exactly have a home to go to, but that’s a problem for later.

 On the cracked steps of an old abandoned building he finally stops to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. A box filled with a half dozen doughnuts, minus the one the officer was eating when Jason stole the rest. Glazed, not his favorite; He always liked chocolate best, but he wasn’t in a position to complain. He smiles to himself as he holds up the first treat.

 “Welp, it’s no birthday cake but it will have to do,” he says to himself. “Happy birthday to me, 11 may have sucked but maybe 12 will be better,” the young boy finally smiles. “I guess it’s time to make my wish.”

 Just as he is about to, an odd shadow passes by. He quickly looks up, just in time to catch a fading glance of the Batman himself, running across the rooftops, his path lit only by the moon. Jason waits another moment, but no one follows behind the vigilante. Robin had been gone for a few months now, though no one knows what happened for sure. Some say he died, some say he quit, some say he ran off to California.

 “Psh, California, what an idiot. If I were Robin I’d never leave,” Jason mumbles as he finally tears his eyes from the sky and looks back down at the box in his lap.

 “Well, these doughnuts aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

 He blows out his imaginary candles and wolfs down his dinner.

 Happy Birthday to you

 15th

An alarm blares as the light shines through his window. Normally, Jason would ignore it and go back to sleep, since Alfred would wake him up later, but today was different. He bolts awake after just the first beep and begins getting ready. Still struggling with his pants, he throws open the door and runs downstairs, sliding a little on the hardwood floors at the bottom of the grand staircase, he catches himself just in time. Before becoming Robin, he definitely would have fallen on his butt. It looks like all his training really is paying off.

 Stopping himself before the doorway of the main dining room, he makes himself presentable and walks in as calmly as possible.

 “Morning B,” Jason says nonchalantly as he enters the room and takes a seat.

 Bruce is sitting peacefully at the head of the table with his usual cup of coffee and today's paper. He glances up at his ward with a knowing smile on his face.

 “Good morning, Jaylad. Sleep alright?”

 Just as Jason was about to respond his nose caught the scent of breakfast. He snapped his head to the kitchen door to see Alfred bringing in the world’s largest tray of pancakes. It’s a yearly tradition; Jason always gets his favorite foods on his birthday.

 Today is always his favorite out of the whole year, everything about it is awesome. Bruce always takes off work to celebrate with him, and later he would open presents. They would play video games and basketball and whatever else Jason could think of. Maybe Dick would even swing by for a bit! It's the best.

 Although every moment is great, Jason’s favorite part is the end. They will all gather in the dining room, but Jason will get to sit at the head of the table this time. Bruce will turn out the lights and Alfred will bring in a homemade birthday cake. They’ll sing to him and he’ll blow out real candles, like in the movies. He could picture it now.

 The only problem is, he can’t figure out just what to wish for. He has everything he could ever want. He finally has a place; he finally has a home. It takes him the whole day to figure out his wish, but when he finally found it, he knew.

 He wished to stay right here, for the rest of his life.

Happy Birthday to you

 18th

The night air was freezing on his skin, the absence of the sun leaving his world cold. Today used to be a day of celebration, now it only brought pain. In his heart he knows he did all he could, that he had given his son everything and more. But then why did he blame himself?

 Bruce follows the overgrown path to the small graveyard. He did not come here often, though that only makes the guilt stronger. He should try to fix that, but he never will.

 Today he swallows the pain and guilt and kneels to the ground, placing a lone rose before a small grave. Too small, just like the boy buried underneath it. He had never had the chance to grow much, as years of malnutrition kept him far shorter than his peers, but Bruce had never minded. It meant he got to carry him a little longer, before he grew too big. He wished he could carry him again, just one last time. 

 The tears came before he could stop them. The water flooding his cheeks as the memories flooded his mind. A small boy laughing, opening presents just a few years ago. He would have been 18 today, officially a man.

 Maybe it's better this way.

 The thought crawls through his brain, dredged up from the darkest corner of his mind.

He will get to stay Bruce's little boy forever, he will never leave him. He will stay the perfect child, untainted by the rebellion of youth and the pain of adulthood, but deep-down Bruce knew, he would watch all of that happily if it meant he got to see his son again. He would do anything to feel the pain of watching his child outgrow him. He would give everything to feel something other than this. Anything but this.

 He stands abruptly, he has to leave. He’s too close to breaking down, to losing it completely, and if he did that, he may never be able to put himself back together. That’s why he never comes here, it’s why he can’t. Too many people rely on him now.

 He takes a deep breath and one last look at the grave. He tries to say it, to form the words on his tongue, but they never come.

 He walks away.

 Happy Birthday dear Jason

 20th

Red Hood runs like he has been running his whole life, like he’ll never stop. He doesn’t bother to see if the cops are still chasing him, he doesn’t care, he just runs.

 He turns down an alley and spots an old fire escape and its instinct. He hops up and climbs until the street is far beneath him. He hears the cops down below, sees their lights flashing in the night sky. He remembers when he used to be scared of them, not anymore. Now they’re scared of him.

 They won’t follow him here, but it doesn’t matter, he keeps running. Truth be told, it's not them he’s running from today. Finally, he stops and takes a moment to catch his breath. He walks to the roof's edge to rest when he realizes where he is.

 The building had been condemned many years ago, now just a rotting shell and cracked front steps. When he was younger, he used to come to this place all the time. It was far enough from the worst part of town that he could handle himself, but just close enough that the cops wouldn’t come near. It was safe here.

 He takes a seat and rests on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging over the side, feet dangling far above the street below. There was a time in his life he used to dream of this view, staring up at the rooftops, wishing for a different life. He learned the hard way to be careful what you wish for.

 The rest of the memories hit him full force, everything he was avoiding smashing into him like a bomb. Images of a happy boy bursting behind his eyelids, eating pancakes and playing basketball. Fragments of a life he lost; one he can never have back. A life he would give anything to have back, especially today. No one even remembered what today is, it used to be his favorite day of the year.

 He loses track of time as he watches life go on below him, so much time has passed since he was last here, but some things never change. It’s quite when he first notices it, the flicker of a familiar shadow. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, but lets him come.

 A quiet thump sounds behind him, he doesn’t even flinch.

 “What do you want B?” he asks without turning around.

 A moment later the footsteps come closer and a large figure sits down calmly beside him. They sit in silence for a moment, what a sight that must be. The Red Hood, a wanted murderer, and the dark knight himself. Though Hood had long since stopped worrying about things like that and if the people below noticed them, they didn’t care enough to show it.

 “Why are you here B?” Hood asks again.

 “Do you think I forgot?” Batman turns to his son and removes his mask, transforming instantly to Bruce Wayne. “We still celebrated, even when…” he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Red Hood turns to him in surprise, and after another moment removes his mask as well. Becoming just Jason Todd.

 “Why?” he asks.

 “You’re family,” Bruce says

 “Even after all these years? Even after everything I’ve done?”

 “When you were gone, I would have done just as much and more to bring you back, no matter how long it took. You’re my son,” Jason looks away to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

 “What now?” Jason says. His voice rough, quiet.

 “Whatever you want Jay-lad. It’s your birthday after all,” Bruce responds, his voice just as broken. “Alfred even made cake.”

“Yeah, alright. I could definitely go for some cake.” Jason smiles weakly. Bruce nods and replaces his cowl, gesturing for Jason as he leaps from the roof. Red Hood replaces his helmet and follows into the moonlight.

 Down below, two odd shadows cast the street in darkness as Batman and his Robin run across the rooftops once more.

 Happy Birthday to you

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- PERCY AND PADFOOT

Lily did not take the book with any amount of happiness. She couldn't stand the idea of just casually going on about Harry's life while that tyrant was torturing her son on a weekly basis now. The only remote bright spot she could picture was the end of the year where hopefully she'd sustain something far worse than having to leave the job. She took the book from Remus very grudgingly and trudged back to her spot next to James in a heavy silence, only Harry still seemed anxious to try and pretend like that part of his life was no big deal.

Harry was first to wake up in his dormitory next morning.

"That's a surprise," Remus said conversationally enough, he could still be angry and keep things light for Harry's sake. "I'd think you'd have to be dragged out of bed with all your sleepless nights from before."

"Guess my brain was still wired for school," Harry shrugged with a smile at him for the attempt.

He lay in his bed and savored for a moment it was finally Saturday, the first week had dragged on as if one long History of Magic class.

"Gah, can you imagine the horror," Sirius shuddered.

"Sounds nice actually," James snorted, "one nice long week to nap."

He collected himself and went down into the dormitory with his school bag, finding it much tidier than when he'd went to bed amongst the candy wrappers and loose scraps of parchment, along with Hermione's hats. He only vaguely wondered how many house-elves had been set free whether they wanted to be or not. *

"Really Harry? You didn't realize the problem with Hermione's plan? You were the one who had to trick Dobby into getting that sock instead of just giving it to him yourself," Lily frowned at him in confusion.

"I honestly thought Hermione had found a way around that, and hadn't questioned her. Thought she really knew what she was doing," Harry shrugged.

"Well it's nice to know she's not infallible in her logic sometimes I guess," James snorted.

  Harry uncorked a bottle of ink and stretched out a fresh sheet of parchment, but hesitated over what to put down, suddenly appreciating his friends vague letters over the summer.

They all perked up with interest at that, they'd been assuming Harry had just been fixing to start on some homework or some such, but this was even better! Sirius was full blown smiling now that Harry really was going to write to him about anything!

He wanted to write to Sirius about everything that had been going on this week, but not in so many words anyone would know what he was talking about. But how to do so without anyone else knowing?

"Very carefully," Remus smiled.

"Or you could charm it so that it only shows you the words when you give it a very vague command," James grinned.

Harry looked a bit disappointed he'd never thought of that, he really wished he had asked his Marauders how they'd charmed their map to do that.

Finally he began with dear Snuffles, and began with a pleasant enough greeting before going into detail about the new Defense teacher, who was about as nice as Snuffles' mum.

Sirius snorted violently before full blown laughing. Then he couldn't seem to stop for a moment. Lily looked on at him with a touch of concern for this reaction, Umbridge's horrid ways set her mind racing with every foul spell she knew to use on that woman for what she'd done to Harry. Just what on earth had Walburga Black done to Sirius for him to clearly be agreeing with Harry like this? She longed to ask, but respected it was his right to tell her if he ever wanted to.

Harry then got to the point, saying he was sending along this letter because what had happened two summers ago happened the other night in detention with Umbridge.

"That was incredibly vague," Remus beamed with pride.

"So, goal met then?" Harry smiled sheepishly, he'd been a little worried they were all going to tell him off for contacting Sirius considering how worried they'd all been about him joining him at the train.

"Absolutely," James nodded, "you're already a natural at this."

They were all missing their biggest friend and hoped to hear from him soon,

"That was a little on the nose," Lily giggled.

"Still credit for trying," Sirius chuckled.

then he signed off. He reread this letter several times, trying his best to find a hole an outsider could find, but he was sure no one could detect anything about the contents or certainly who it was meant for.

"Definitely not, you're safe on all counts," they all agreed, causing Harry his first real smile since he'd been back at school.

Harry hoped Sirius would pick up most of all on the mention of Hagrid, but did not want to ask directly in case it drew attention to his absence.

"I'm sure he'll be back in no time," Lily said with more confidence than she really felt. She was very worried about Hagrid as well, what was taking him so long?

Considering how short the letter was, it had taken him some time to do it. By now others were arriving downstairs, and Harry hastened out of the common room off for the Owlery. He ran into Nick on the way, warning him against going his current path as Peeves was planning a joke involved the bust of Paracelsus.

Harry asked if this involved the bust falling on his head?

"A classic then," James smirked.

Nick agreed in a bored voice that was the funny part.

"How on earth could he be bored by such a thing?" Remus drawled.

Pointing out subtlety had never been Peeves' strong point.

"Well that's fair enough," Sirius agreed.

Nick was off to find the Barron to put a stop to this, and he'd see Harry around.

"Merlin, doesn't anyone let people have some fun in that place," James sighed.

Harry ended up taking a longer but safer route up to the Owlery, and only came across Mrs. Norris. The cat gazed at him for a moment before darting off, Harry calling after her he hadn't done anything wrong, though the hike of her tail was one of going to fetch her boss.

"Maybe she was just mad you stopped her heading that way as well," Sirius snorted, "I've caught her a fair few times trying to go up there pestering the owls."

Ignoring the instance he found the straw strewn floor covered with the usual owl droppings and regurgitated meals, spotting his snowy white owl up in the rafters. Once she'd perched on his shoulder so he could tie his note to her, he instructed for her ears alone that though this was addressed to Snuffles, Harry urged his owl to find Sirius.

"You didn't bother calling me that last year, why start now?" Sirius chuckled.

"Now I actually felt the need for it," Harry muttered, shifting just a bit with unease as the safety of his godfather came into question.

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before taking flight, and Harry watched her fly off with the most calm he'd felt in a while. The grounds were still and at peace in the morning light, the trees of the Forbidden Forest only swaying gently. It was as he gazed at these though that one of the skeletal horses from before came swooping out chasing a bird and when it missed, dived right back down out of sight. The whole instance happened so quickly Harry swore he could have imagined it.

"Can you imagine how many times that happens a day and no one sees it," Sirius looked a bit amused.

"Imagine if they roamed the grounds more than the forest," James agreed. "People would be constantly knocking into them, and seeing things happen because of those and no one would be able to figure out why except those that saw them."

"You lot are enjoying this idea far too much," Lily tried to repress a smile at the idea by telling them.

"What can we say, we have a certain fondness for invisibility," Remus smirked.

The Owlery door opened behind him. He leapt in shock and, turning quickly, saw Cho Chang holding a letter and a parcel in her hands.

"Hey, look who finally gets a moment alone with his crush," Sirius threw his hands up in victory.

"I don't find the owlery the most romantic setting," James smirked.

"Let's see if Harry can get through with this one without making a fool of himself," Remus snickered, "or this time it'll be entirely his fault."

"Your encouragement is the limit," Harry grumbled.

They both stammered a greeting to each other at once, Cho quickly explaining her end she was coming up here to deliver a birthday present to her mum.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that, his brain had jammed. He wanted to say something funny and interesting,

"Harry, you have yet to say that, ever," Sirius smirked, achieving his goal in getting a rise out of Harry who simply scowled at him for now.

but the memory of that horse now fresh had his mind struggling speech at all.

What came out was a gesture to the clear blue sky, and his pointing out how nice this was. Then he felt like crawling under the nearest rat skeleton and never coming out. He was talking about the weather!

"Considering you've never had a proper conversation, starting casual is probably best," James said fairly.

"Could have asked something more direct, like what she'd gotten her mother," Lily objected.

"Or I could go read this in another room without you lot," Harry huffed to try and get them to stop.

"You wouldn't dare," Sirius gasped.

"And miss out on our brilliant commentary?" Remus looked a touch offended.

Lily started giggling a bit when Harry didn't back down from his threat as she turned back anyways.

Cho at once agreed this made perfect Quidditch conditions.

"Well I like her," James beamed at once.

"A very good point she managed to steer right into that sport," Sirius agreed, which Harry supposed was better than them picking on him, so he let it go.

Then she asked if Gryffindor had a new Keeper yet?

Harry agreed it was his friend Ron, whom Cho remembered as the Tornado hater.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate the team," Remus said fairly, "just the fans who suddenly like them."

"Entirely not the point," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

She asked how his tryout had gone, and Harry confessed he hadn't been there because of his detention.

Cho met his eyes then, only half way done attaching her parcel to her owl, as she stated how foul that Umbridge woman was, putting him in detention for telling the truth about...of how he died.

"Oh look, another supporter," Sirius said quickly rather than letting Harry dwell on that again for a moment, "that's three to two."

"Are you going to keep a tally of everyone in the school?" Harry asked with some bemusement.

"Don't tempt him," James sighed.

"He's already not doing a good job anyways, it's five to two counting Ron and Hermione," Remus reminded.

"Those were given," Sirius brushed him off.

"Not if you're going to do a complete poll of all 500 something students-"** Remus began disagreeing, but Lily finally cut through the lot of them.

She kept Harry's eyes as she told how brave it was of him to stand up to her like that.

Harry felt his insides inflating so much he was sure he was suddenly floating off the ground a bit.

"That'd be a sight," James snickered at the idea.

Who cared about a stupid flying horse; Cho thought he'd been brave.

"Priorities," Remus agreed lightly.

For a moment, he considered accidentally-on-purpose showing her his cut hand as he helped her tie her parcel on to her owl . . .

"I'm not sure of the reaction you were hoping to get with that one," Lily said in disgust.

"I certainly wouldn't find that braver, but stupid on your part for not saying something about it before now," James agreed with a hard look at Harry who chose now to check to see if his shoelace was still tied.

Before he could act on the impulse, the door burst open, with Filch marching into the room on a mission. He locked eyes on Harry at once and demanded his mail from him, saying he'd been given a tip about the order of Dungbombs he was to be placing.

Lily puffed up her cheeks before letting the air out slowly to make sure her voice came out neutral as she asked, "why would he think that?"

"Maybe it was someone playing a prank?" Harry brushed off, not wanting to think much of it as he was still caught on his Cho interactions with a smile.

"Harry, you don't find it just a bit concerning someone was trying to take your mail from you?" Remus wheedled to try and keep him on track while everyone's eyes were still narrowed with dislike over this.

Harry did rethink things over, and he certainly felt a ball of anxiety forming in him at the thought now, but he was finally enjoying just a bit of his time remembering school again and don't want them to keep ruining it with suspicions, so he just shrugged again.

Lily hoped that meant nothing did come of this moment, rather than worrying at her lip for the implications of something she did not like.

Harry crossed his arms in defiance at once as he demanded who'd told that, and Filch just brushed him off saying that wasn't the point and to hand over his mail now. Harry was entirely grateful he hadn't dawdled in sending Hedwig off, as he told Filch as much.

His eyes narrowed with further suspicion, as he demanded if Harry still had it on his person in hiding.

"What's he going to do if you had?" James snorted, his old joy of tormenting Filch quickly rising to the top.

"Surely, it'll involve whipping or something," Sirius snickered, "that'll make the clothes come right off."

"Urgh," Lily grumbled, she'd never taken Filch's threats so lightly as the lot of them, but then she supposed, she'd never had to suffer a detention with him either so she could see why they played this off as a joke.

Cho jumped in then saying she'd been here when he did send it off.

"Are you sure she's not a Keeper?" James threw his head back with laughter, "because I think she is."

"And you say I come up with bad puns," Sirius snickered along.

Filch glared between the two before turning back to the door, but he froze with his hand on it and still angry eyes on Harry as he began to threaten if he got one whiff of a Dungbomb from him...

"You'll what? Come on man, finish your threats, it's far healthier," Remus said almost encouragingly.

He stomped out of sight then, Harry waiting till he was long gone before thanking Cho for backing him up. She said she didn't mind at all, before asking if he really had been up here ordering those?

"She asks after defending you," Lily giggled.

"Proper timing," James agreed.

Harry said no, and she at once went on to say why Filch had thought so then.

The two remained in silence then as Cho finally sent off her things and they left, waiting until they hit their departing corridor before Cho said she'd see Harry around.

He agreed at once, and the two departed both smiling.

"Lookie there, finally making some progress," Sirius couldn't quite keep the mocking tone out of his voice even as he applauded Harry.

"Looks like third time's his charm, he's beaten Prongs out by a mile," Remus agreed.

"Come on, 394 really isn't that bad in comparison," Sirius put on James' voice in a fair impression.

James chucked a pillow at him while Lily kept going.

Harry went all the way down to the Great Hall, for once ignoring any lingering stares or whispers as he kept remembering her saying how brave she thought he was...

He greeted his friends with the cheeriest morning he had all week.

"Is that all it takes putting you in a good mood?" James huffed, still giving his two friends the stink eye. "Chatting with a pretty girl? Maybe we should try and convince Andromeda to come over next time you're in a bad mood."

"I don't think the prelude to that conversation would be worth it," Harry rolled his eyes.

Ron eyed Harry with surprise for this mood.

"It's sad he's surprised to see you happy," Sirius snorted.

Harry fibbed it was the idea of Quidditch, which Ron only reluctantly agreed to, as he asked Harry if he'd go out with him even earlier than practice so that Ron could have a warm up before even then.

"He wants to train before training, Merlin I want to cry just thinking about it," Remus groaned.

"Don't know what you're talking about Moony, I'll take some hits with the ground over the pummeling my brain took over homework," Sirius shrugged.

Harry agreed at once, but Hermione cut in she seriously didn't think they should.

"I would never say any such thing, why would Hermione imply otherwise?" Sirius demanded while Harry chuckled fully again at that joke.

They were both really behind on homework as is- the two boys were thankfully saved anymore by the morning owl arriving, and Ron tried to delay further by asking if there was anything interesting in there.

"I'm sure the removal of Fudge from his Minister position wouldn't keep her from talking about that," James rolled his eyes.

She flipped through a few pages while saying there was nothing of note, before reaching a ways into it and whispering a sudden concern for Sirius.

Lily choked hard as she spat the name out in surprise, and James wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to get her breath back as he lunged forward and took the book away from her, reading out in a fevered haste-

Harry moved so fast he tore the paper in half, leaving the piece Hermione had been reading still in her hand, which she practically ignored as she read out the content for the boys that the Ministry had received a tip-off that notorious mass murderer Sirius Black may be here in London.

His face was going red, he had yet to take a breath, so Lily reached forward and placed her hand on the back of his neck, using as calm a voice as she could manage, "breath James, he's still fine."

"Right, yeah," he said jerkily, some normal color returning to his face as he studied the words and then glared up at his best mate.

To his infuriation, Sirius just shrugged with a bland look in place, saying, "look at it this way Prongs, even if I do, I'll know how not to get caught that way."

Remus' hands twitched, he really was going to start strangling him here in a moment if he didn't stop playing this off as a joke.

"Sirius, this really isn't the time for jokes," Harry stunned them all by snapping, his face bone white as he watched him. "How do you think I'll feel when-" his vision blurred white before he could say anymore, beginning to convulse and clearly suffering for trying to remember something.

Even beginning to guess what that could be had all of them breathless with fear, but Sirius rounded himself back enough, talking earnestly but softly to Harry now, "alright pup, you got it. No more making fun of Prongs no matter how dramatic he's being."

Harry's vision swam as he focused back on Sirius, something dark in him warning he didn't want to remember the warning he'd almost given. He believed that feeling, because the first option it meant just couldn't be true, he couldn't lose Sirius. So, it must be something else, Sirius just got really hurt or something...

It was the only conclusion any of them could comprehend, the alternative wasn't bearable. Lily had to gently pry the book from James' death grip as she went back to her spot, ignoring her own shaking voice for that heart stopping moment.

Harry began muttering furiously about how Lucius must have done this, he had seen Sirius at the platform.

Ron began in surprise when this had happened,

Remus forced himself to roll his eyes, to focus on this detail that Ron really hadn't noticed any such thing.

Sirius was also restraining himself from saying he didn't even blame Ron for not focusing on such a stupid little detail, but he didn't think that would be well received right now considering his last throwaway comment.

but the other two shushed him as Hermione read out the rest of the article about what would await him when he was found. She concluded then that he just couldn't leave the house again period,

Sirius turned as white as Harry had just been. If that rat was never caught...he couldn't do it, he couldn't go back to prison again, one that was somehow conceivably on par with Azkaban...

Dumbledore had warned him not to after all.

"I don't give a damn what Dumbledore said," Sirius snarled with absolute conviction. "I'd rather die outside that house than be a prisoner inside it again."

He crossed his arms defiantly, waiting for someone to argue with him, but not even Harry could bolster himself to do this. If he'd had to go back to living at the Dursley's full time, even for his own safety...he'd be doing something desperate as well.

Harry stared morosely down at the bit of paper he'd ripped off, his mind on other things besides the add for Madam Malkin's in his hand, but then tucked in a miniature article right below that was something else that caught Harry's attention.

"Not more on-" Remus pleaded, having to resist the urge to grab Sirius and not let go until those thoughts of his were no longer an issue.

"No, no," Harry murmured, still not back to his normal color, "something other than Sirius caught my attention, if you can imagine."

Sirius managed a giggle that didn't quite hit normal, but if Harry was forcing himself to move past the moment than clearly, they'd over read his reaction, something else must be going on...not that Harry just couldn't bear to understand his own thought, that wasn't an option.

He at once laid this out for the others to see, to which Ron instantly said he was good on robes.

James managed only a semi hysterical giggle for that.

Harry ignored him and read out the bit that was barely four sentences long about how Sturgis Podmore had been arrested for trespassing at the Ministry. He'd been caught trying to break into a high security door. The man had refused to speak in his own defense and was to spend the next six months in Azkaban.

No one spoke while Lily read out the charges, but by the time she'd finished and looked up in stunned disbelief, she found them all slack jawed. What they were hearing wasn't possible. Not the Sturgis who'd just been inducted into the Order, had gone to Dumbledore and begged the man to let him help in any way possible after he'd witnessed a muggle child beaten in the street. So how on Earth had he somehow managed to get himself tangled up into stealing from the Ministry? Sent to Azkaban? Why had he even wound up there, that bit about refusing to speak for himself stuck out more than anything, as surely Dumbledore would have stepped in. If he had for Harry than they couldn't imagine he wouldn't have for a faithful Order member as well...but then again, they also already knew of at least one instance where he'd let an Order member go to Azkaban without speaking a word for him. If he could do that to Sirius, they'd believe he could do that to anyone.

Harry was less following that train of thought and more trying to understand how someone from the Order had done that, but his first thought was a frame up. The man had been conned into it somehow... then he went cross-eyed in pain. He'd already suffered one memory blast a second ago for something far more precious to him regarding his godfather, he wasn't going to be pressing on this.

Lily was still waiting for someone to say something about this, but it was clear no one really could, this was too much happening back to back and they needed a minute to process, so Lily was hoping reading about Harry go through this would help.

Ron recalled him as a recently absent member of the Order-

Hermione quickly shushed him before he could go on about that, while Harry hissed he'd been given his stint just for trying to get through a door?

"Oh, that part wasn't so surprising," Lily murmured, "the Ministry takes their breaking and entering very-" she broke off with a nasty glare at Sirius, who managed a real smile and almost a pout for Lily not slipping up.

Hermione told him not to be silly, it wasn't just because of the door. What had he even been doing at the ministry at the time?

"I'm sure if they knew they'd put that in the story," Remus frowned.

"Maybe not," James disagreed, "could be something very secret and important, don't want word spreading around about it."

Ron muttered if this happened on orders from the Order?

"I, could be I guess," Sirius struggled, though he really had a problem understanding what the Order would have to do with the Ministry when they were so at odds.

"If so, then him being in Azkaban is all the fouler," James snarled in outrage.

Harry recalled that it didn't seem likely, as Sturgis had been absent when they were all headed to King's cross, he didn't seem to be doing much work for them lately.

"Perhaps he just wasn't doing this at that time, I'm positive he came around and explained himself before going on for more work," Remus reasoned out.

Ron instead offered up the idea it was all a frame up. What if the Ministry had lured him there, and then set a trap for him to get caught so they could pin this on him.

They all considered the idea for a moment, but not everyone was entirely convinced. Lily at least hoped the Ministry would never fall that far, but she still also held out hope there was something else going on they just couldn't get information from that about. Harry also wouldn't know, leaving them in the dark on this.

James and Sirius seemed to liken to the idea, in fact it explained a lot of his past behavior if he was now regularly being conned up there and then didn't explain this until after the fact to the Order for security reasons.

Remus found it plausible enough, though still a bit too underhanded for the Ministry at this stage. From all accounts, they were still working on discrediting Dumbledore, and though making one of his associates into this light was a next step, why make the piece so small then? They'd have made this front headline news if they were pushing for this tactic, yet it seemed a miracle the piece was in the paper at all. No, he still thought something else was going on here.

Harry found this too far fetched, but Hermione was impressed at this and found it plausible.

Then she folded the paper up and moved on to saying they should start with their Herbology homework.

"How on Earth does she flip from that to homework?" Remus demanded, absolutely derailed from his train of thought.

"I'm sure Hermione can manage to switch any topic to essays," James scowled for this subject being brought up and then cut off so quickly, he wanted to know what was really going on with someone he considered a friend.

If they were lucky they could start practicing McGonagall's Inanimate Conjures Spells before lunch.

Sirius tisked at once, caught at once from his own speculation. "Don't know what she's on about, they're going to play Quidditch."

Harry felt a small twinge of guilt as he watched her go through their list of work, but that blue sky outside really was exhilarating, and he hadn't been on his Firebolt in ages...

"So, you'll be heading down to the pitch soon," Sirius waved impatiently to get there.

Ron reassured Harry that they could go through all that tonight, while the two headed down brooms over their shoulders, Hermione's dire words about how they were going to fail every one of their OWL's still fresh in their ears.

Remus started snickering while nobody bothered acting surprised, even if Lily's mouth did thin just a bit in disapproval of this.

Plus they had all day tomorrow...then he asked if she'd really meant it about them not being allowed to copy from her?

"Did she ever actually let you?" Lily asked astounded, as she hadn't at all picked up on this.

"Sometimes she 'accidentally' left her work out while she ran off to the Library for something," Harry chuckled, "but she never just pushed it over for us."

Harry said she'd meant it alright, but Quidditch was important to them to, they had to stay on top for the team.

"Priorities," James agreed without a drop of sarcasm.

Ron agreed at once, they had time to do it all.

"I hope you remember that when you're up studying until Sunday," Remus winced in pity at the idea.

Harry refused to let his gaze linger on the Forest as they took to the grounds, that flying horse wasn't hurting anything and he had more important things to think about.

"That's fair honestly," James agreed, he hated lingering on things that weren't of importance as well, though he was still trying to pick apart that bit about Sturgis even while half listening to his sons Quidditch prows.

Ron did quite well on his solo practice with Harry, and both boys were heartened as they returned to lunch and more of Hermione's commentary on how irresponsible they were.

"I'd be more worried if she didn't honestly," Lily said fondly.

This time when they went back down, everyone else was waiting for them in the locker room, Fred and George greeting Ron by asking if the Ickle Prefect was going to show them all up.

"If they were making cracks at him like that, it's no wonder he got a little frazzled during tryouts," Remus said in sympathy.

"Ron really shouldn't be letting those light things get to him," James scoffed in disbelief, "not only have the twins said far worse to him before, but the buildup to a game is brutal. Ron's got to have better nerves to keep up."

Ron snapped at them to shut up as Angelina entered, warning them before they got started that they had some visitors in the stands but they were to be ignored while they did this.

It was easier said than done, as the moment the Slytherin team caught sight of them, they began catcalling.

"Did we ever establish what the rules are for spectators at practice?" Harry grumped.

"Nope," James popped the p for emphasis. "Sadly, the pitch stands are open at all times, they hardly have a guard up after all. If you call off practice to go find a teacher to complain to, then you get the same end results of having practice cut up and your time will run out for the next person anyways."

Harry grumbled something but admitted he could do nothing more about this.

Malfoy at once began a list of insults, starting with what Weasley was riding, an old log?

Harry told Ron to ignore the jab, they wouldn't be laughing when they were the ones losing next game.

'Says the one on the Firebolt,' Remus thought in sympathy for Ron at that comment.

Angelina had them all in the air and began with the simple practice of tossing the Quaffle around. Each team member had lobbed it to a random other, before Harry passed it to Ron, who fumbled and had to dive to the ground to get it.

The Slytherin's laughter doubled up at once, and Ron came up as red faced as the ball now. The twins exchanged a look, but uncharacteristically did not say anything themselves.

"It's nice even they have their limits," Sirius frowned in sympathy for Ron.

"I'm positive they'd never have a go at their brother in front of spectators," James said at once, "family boundaries and all that. They can pick on him all they like, but if someone else does it, then there's going to be a problem. Mocking him while they are being the opposite of that."

Sirius nodded in absolute agreement while Lily grinned at him before going on.

Angelina brushed past the moment as if it hadn't happened, telling him to pass it on already, and the routine began again before Malfoy's next comment floated up about how Potter's head was feeling? Did he need a lie down in the Hospital wing? It had been a whole week since he'd been in there after all.

"I wish that one was more of a joke," Lily groaned, considering her son had successfully woken up in there all four years.

On his next pass through Ron did catch his ball with skill, but then overenthusiastically lobbed it off to Katie which smacked her right in the face. Fred flew over at once and offered her a purple bit of candy, promising this would stop the problem.***

"Ooph," all five of them winced for that pain, though James tried to bolster, "least that one wasn't entirely his fault, Katie's got to work on her reflexes as well."

"He speaks from experience of one to many Quaffles in the face," Sirius agreed.

Angelina seemed to decide that was enough of that practice as the team broke up into their usual positions then, but Ron wasn't having much better luck this way. Harry wasn't paying much attention to anyone else as he weaved in and around looking for the Snitch, so stopped in surprise when Angelina blew her whistle and called at Ron he needed to be covering all of his posts, he was only hovering in front of the one.

"Well he was only used to playing with one post, back at home," Harry defended lightly.

"Guess there is room for adjustment time," James agreed.

Ron apologized at once while he tried to lengthen his field, Angelina coaching that he should be circling them all, or he'd let in more than the last three.

Lily winced upon the word three. She wasn't even much of a Quidditch fan and she was starting to feel bad for Ron, the boys were past that and starting to shift with unease at this poor display. They liked Ron a lot, but maybe he wasn't cut out for this game on such a level, not everyone was.

Before she went back to training she asked wasn't Katie's nose getting any better, but Katie said it was only getting worse. Fred eyed another piece of candy he'd apparently just given to her, and suddenly looked horror struck.

"Well that can't be good," Remus yipped at once in concern.

"Just what did the twins do?" Sirius agreed in a sudden surge. "I remember them saying they hadn't perfected the nosebleed one yet, but I thought by giving her that it would at least stem the flow, not make it worse!"

"They gave her the purple pill," James soothed, though his own twitching showed he wasn't entirely okay with this either, "surely they're not just using her for a test dummy."

Not long after, Katie had to be escorted off the field, face pure white from blood loss, by the twins who had accidentally given her a Blood Blister pod.

"What does he mean by mistake?" Lily demanded dangerously. "Thought they were color coded for a reason, how could he give her the wrong one?"

They really had no answer for this, it wasn't like the twins to be so careless with their own products.

Angelina gave in on practice for the day and slumped off amongst the Slytherin's most recent chant of 'Gryffindors are losers!' They made their way back to the common room where Hermione asked in a frosty voice how it had gone. Ron at once said it had been lousy, and Hermione's voice cooled in sympathy it was only his first after all.

"It's nice she thaws on them when it counts," Remus chuckled.

Ron snapped who'd said it had been him that made it lousy?

Sirius couldn't help but snort lightly for his snap, she had made the presumption, even if it was right.

Then he marched off to go get his book bag, while Hermione leaned in and whispered for Harry alone if it had been him.

Harry said no with loyalty.

"There's my little Gryffindor," James beamed for the response he'd have given.

When Hermione kept staring, he conceded it hadn't been the best, but this really had been his first crack.

No more was said as the two spent the evening going through all their work, made extra difficult as Harry could still hear the echo of the Slytherin's cruel chant.

"Oh Harry, don't let yourself get so psyched out as well," Sirius tried to comfort, "that won't help Ron."

"Malfoy really has this way of sticking in my head," Harry huffed.

They spent the rest of the night and the whole of Sunday pushing through their mountain of work, by Sunday night Harry was feeling as if his brain was smashing its way out of his skull.

"Lovely mental imagery," Remus winced in sympathy.

Harry muttered for Ron they really should be doing more of this over the week.

"Well it's not as if you had much of a choice," James said fairly, "what with being physically tortured and all," his voice finishing with flat ice.

Harry winced and hid his hand from sight again, knowing they weren't letting that one go anytime soon.

Hermione had spent her time relaxing, making more elf hats, and chatting with other friends the whole time, but as the night wore on and most of the common room emptied out for their early morning tomorrow, she took pity and wandered over, glancing at Ron's current Astronomy essay and corrected Jupiter's biggest moon was Ganymede, and Lo had the volcanoes.

"Exactly what text was he using to be swapping all those?" Remus asked in sympathy.

"The book was upside down, he didn't even seem to notice he was as exhausted as I was," Harry sighed. "I probably would have noticed soon, I was almost done with mine."

Ron began scratching out the wrong information without a word, while Hermione began apologizing.

"Why's she apologizing, I thought she always critiqued your homework," Lily said in surprise.

"Ron looked ready to make her eat that quill as he was using it," Harry winced, his best mate not in the mood for Hermione to be doing this over his shoulder in that way.

Ron snapped he didn't want to hear it if she was just going to criticize.

"I was under the impression she always criticized him," Sirius said lightly.

"I'm still convinced that's their form of flirting," Remus snorted, thinking Ron was looking for a good row to let off some steam, and Hermione was more than likely his usual go to with that.

Hermione spotted something else, but when Ron tried to cut her off he didn't want to hear it, Hermione pointed at Hermes in the window.

"Not Percy's owl?" James yelped in shock as he leaned over Lily's shoulder to read that one.

"Why do you even remember that detail?" Sirius asked as he certainly hadn't.

Lily shushed them both while reading with an honest touch of hope, maybe Percy was trying to come around and apologize? Hopefully that letter was for all his siblings and he'd made up with his parents?

Ron went to the window at once and wrenched it open, Percy's owl swooping in and landing on Ron's moon of Io.

"I'm sure the Professor will appreciate the attention to detail," James muttered as he was still trying to peek over Lily's shoulder and see what this was about, while she was just as effectively ignoring him.

Ron tore open the envelope curiously and began reading, but his expression quickly flipped to disgust the longer he read.

"That was not an encouraging start," Remus began without much surprise, though he still couldn't imagine what this was about, while Lily sighed with disappointment and couldn't bother clinging to her hope anymore as she got it out.

He wordlessly thrusted the letter to his friends, apparently to appalled for words, as they began reading to themselves about Percy's beginning stating he'd heard from the Minister of Magic himself,

"That was entirely unnecessary," James huffed.

"As was that," Lily snipped at him.

that Ron had become a Prefect. This was excellent news, as Percy had always feared Ron would take the 'Fred and George' route, but now he was elated to hear his youngest brother had decided to take on some responsibility.

"He didn't decide anything," Sirius threw his hands up in exasperation for people continually saying that. No one put their name down, no one did anything to become Prefect, it was entirely the decision of the Heads of Houses and ultimately Dumbledore.

He was sending this letter with as much warning as anything though, for if he expected to go further in life with this achievement, he should be warned of his continued fraternization with Harry Potter, which he'd gathered Ron was still hanging around again from word of the Minister.

Remus frowned in confusion, wondering what Umbridge had passed along that involved Ron at all? He supposed he wasn't too surprised if that thing was keeping tabs on Harry's friends as well though.

Percy put in the simple fact that Ron could quickly lose his badge if this kept up.

Harry spluttered with absolute indignation. What had he done to deserve that from anyone, let alone a person he'd gotten to know on at least some level? He'd never taken a liking to Percy, but he'd never thought he'd done anything to deserve him telling his own brother to drop him? Ron was Harry's first friend, his best friend, and more family than he'd ever had in his life before he met Sirius.

James fired up at once, snapping, "what does Percy want, for Ron to be an outcast and no one to like him like Percy is?"

The sad truth was, yes Lily did believe that. Percy may have heard this news and immediately hoped that he could reconnect with some member of his family, because he likely was lonely. That didn't excuse what he'd just told to do to her son.

Percy expected Ron to read this with some surprise, no doubt Ron would say that Potter was Dumbledore's favorite,

"Why would that be his response?" Sirius scowled with anger as well as confusion for that one. Harry never once asked for that treatment.

but Dumbledore may not be in charge around school much longer anyways if those in charge had a more accurate account of Potter's behavior had things settled as Percy expected them to.

With every line Percy had written Remus continued growing more confused and angry, this one in particular caught him off guard. What did he mean Dumbledore wouldn't be in charge of the school anymore? That was an oddity in itself, he'd been the headmaster for generations already and in a most likely biased opinion the most reputable of them all. That didn't quite knock out the anger of the second part, more accurate his arse. Ron was Harry's best friend for years, he'd have the most accurate portrayal of Harry more than anyone, shouldn't this be his say so.

Percy wouldn't enlighten this statement further, but Ron should check out the Daily Prophet tomorrow for more details to see where the wind was blowing, and to spot himself along the way.

"Why am I not surprised this whole letter was planned out just to brag about himself winding up in the paper somehow," Sirius snarled.

Percy persisted, seriously Ron

"He doesn't get to use my name," Sirius huffed, to which he was ignored by all this time.

did not want to be on the same branch with Potter anymore or it would damage his future, and this was speaking of life after school. Ron surely knew of Potters disciplinary hearing, and he had not come out of it looking good. He'd gotten off on a technicality, and many of the Wizengamot still found him guilty.

"Guilt of what!?" James thundered. "He saved his own damn life plus his useless cousin! What were they even trying to prove during that shame of a trial? That he cast a Patronus Charm for shits and giggles!"

"You should never argue with a stupid person, they'll just drag you down to their level and beat you with experience." Remus snipped.

It was best for Ron to sever ties with Potter, the earlier the better, even if he did become violent. If Ron had any worries he was encouraged to go see Umbridge, a delightful woman who would be happy to help.

Lily did not get that out as if an intelligible person had said it, more like repeating the words of someone hit with a babbling curse. It made no sense in or out of context.

This led into his next bit of advice, which he'd hinted at above,

"Hinted implies subtly," James snorted with disgust.

that Dumbledore would not remain in charge at school long, and Ron should be thinking of his future with the Ministry. So far Umbridge had been getting very little cooperation from the staff and the Ministry was striving to fix this, again see the Prophet tomorrow, and those who were on Umbridge's side could be well placed for Head Boy ship not long later.

"Climb as far up her brown nose as you can and make a comfy nest with the rest of her eggs," Sirius mocked.

Percy did tack in an apology about how he was sorry he couldn't see Ron over the summer,

"Bet he wouldn't care one bit if he didn't know you were a Prefect," Sirius snapped.

and it did pain in how he disliked criticizing his parents, but what with the riff raff they kept up with like Sturgis Podmore, and other petty criminals, he was lucky the Minister didn't see him in the same light.

James looked ready to light the book on fire any moment now. Percy had successfully insulted three people he cared about in one go! It took a lot of restraint on his part to remind himself Percy was still a child right now who shouldn't be transfigured into a pumpkin.

He was very gracious he'd disassociated himself with the likes of Dumbledore's crowd and promised Ron could still do the same and not to let family ties blind him. He'd be ready to accept their apology whenever they were ready and realized their mistakes.

"If both sides keep standing around waiting for an apology instead of doing something, this war is going to be harder than I was thinking," Sirius grumbled as he remembered his own words.

He signed off with the plea to think this all over, particularly the bit about Potter, and congratulated him one last time on becoming a prefect.

"Burn that Harry. Burn that and shove the sod right up that Humongous Big Heads nose." James said at once with conviction.

"It's Ron's letter," Harry sighed, "I think he should get the right."

"That's fair," Sirius acknowledged.

When Harry was done, he reread one bit to make sure he got it right, before turning to Ron and said if he wanted to sever ties with him, he promised he wouldn't get violent.

The boys at least garnered a laugh for Harry's sarcasm at that, while Lily sighed deeply. She wished that hadn't been played off as a joke, but she supposed it was better than Harry getting mad at Ron's brother, and taking it out on Ron, which with his temper lately she wouldn't have even been surprised.

Ron jerked the letter away nastily at once, calling him the biggest prat on earth as he ripped the parchment up into tiny little scraps and tossed it into the fire.

"Less satisfying than up the nose," James sighed.

"But a proper in the moment response," Remus smiled.

Then he turned dismissively back to their homework.

Lily managed almost a happy giggle for this display, thinking Percy should send Ron more stupid letters if that's what got him to focus on his homework more.

Remus almost agreed, finding his utter dismissal of this perfect.

Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face.

"What kind of odd look?" Lily asked with a torn expression, she really hoped Hermione wasn't going to try and give Ron a pep talk or something, it wouldn't do him any good right now.

"I think it was something close to surprise, maybe admiration," Harry tried to smile. "Ron wouldn't ever show it, but what Percy did cut all his siblings as bad as his parents, and so when Hermione saw Ron just turn right back to homework after what Ron considered further spurn must have gotten to her."

Lily couldn't help a small smile now as she kept going. It didn't make that letter feel any better, but it was nice to see Hermione acting like their friend rather than mother for a change.

Then she stunned them both by demanding their homework from them so she could correct what they'd done.

"Doesn't she usually do that anyways when you're done?" Sirius chuckled.

"She'd certainly been threatening not to do it enough lately we were starting to believe her," Harry smiled in relief.

He asked if she was serious?

"No, I am," Sirius reminded as if anyone had forgotten.

Then he began thanking her at once, calling her a life saver and what could he say to-

She said he could say he wouldn't wait to do all his homework till the last minute ever again, while looking on in amusement.

"They're not even done with them though," James reminded.

"Still better to get her help while she was in a good mood, half the work done," Harry cheered, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harry thanked her as well as he pushed his away in relief, letting himself sink down and gaze at the fire quietly for a moment with a sick feeling resting in him as the remains of Percy's letter curled away in the fire.

They all frowned as they realized Harry had taken that much more personally than they'd realized, he'd even played off the moment in here well enough they'd thought he'd just completely brushed it off, but clearly not.

Somehow reading all that in Percy's writing pressed in on him for the first time his standing with the majority of the Wizarding World. He'd known Percy for years, had spent summers at his house and shared a tent with him at the World Cup, Percy had been the one to award him full marks during the second task last year, but now the same guy found him unbalanced and violent.

"This is the same guy who went sobbing out into the freezing lake to check on his kid brother," Remus huffed in agreement. "How did he go from that to dismissing his whole family in so little time?"

"You've got me?" James sighed deeply.

Harry felt sudden empathy for his godfather, whom the whole world also believed had done something he'd had no part of.

Sirius hummed in agreement with that, even if he couldn't be there for Harry in the ways he wanted to be, he found comfort even the idea he could relate to Harry made him feel better.

Then Harry sat up straight in his chair as he gazed at the fire in confusion, surely he'd imagined it because he was thinking of his godfather.

"Oh, is Sirius making another appearance in the common room?" James asked as if confirming the date.

"Now he even has a safe place to do it from," Remus agreed almost as if bored at the idea.

Truth be told it made both of them smile and more anxious at the same time. They couldn't easily forget where Sirius was in Harry's time and found him talking to Harry face to face would surely make him feel better for even a moment.

Hermione was done with both homeworks, haven written out a draft for Ron to use as his conclusion,

"Okay, that was blatantly doing homework for you," Lily snorted.

"I guess she truly was taking pity on us," Harry chuckled.

Ron insisted she was the most wonderful person he'd ever met,

"I think this is the most he's complimented her in their entire friendship, she may be falling over from shock," Sirius chuckled.

and if he was ever rude to her again-

She'd know he'd gone back to normal, Hermione finished for him with a smile.

"There's the proper response," James snickered.

Then she turned on Harry's, saying he must have heard Sinestra wrong, as Europa was covered in ice, not mice.

"Sometimes I really can't tell when Hermione's being sarcastic," Remus smirked, "she must know that was a slip of the quill."

Harry just grinned and didn't reply.

Harry was no longer listening as he crouched down in front of the fireplace, watching it steadily now as he told his friends what he'd just seen. It wasn't that surprising, as Sirius had appeared her once before to talk to him, but Hermione was concerned at once at the idea, saying it would be too- Sirius?!

"But I'm always serious, how could I be anything else?" Sirius cackled.

"She was actually saying your name you twit," Lily ground out, cursing that man's parents for cursing their child and everyone else in his life with this never-ending gag.

She gasped his name in surprise as Sirius' face sat among the logs, grinning at them.

"You already sound so pleased with yourself," James snickered.

"I honestly believe I've been looking forward to this all week, Harry's letter just happened around the same time," Sirius grinned.

He began to say he'd been worried this wouldn't work, he'd been checking every hour and there'd always been someone else in here.

Harry half laughed that he'd been popping his head in here once an hour? Hermione anxiously demanded what if someone had seen him.

"I'm sure you'd have heard about it, and the twins would have helped to laugh the whole thing off by saying they'd slipped something in there, or any number of things." Remus rolled his eyes at her paranoia.

Sirius shrugged off that some first year may have gotten a start from him, but she'd probably just thought he was a funny shaped log.

"Honestly, in a school full of magic, a funny shaped log wouldn't have lingered in her mind in the time it took for her to get to the stairs," James agreed.

Hermione still said this was too big a risk for him to be-

Sirius cut her off by telling her to stop sounding like Molly, Sirius was just trying to respond to Harry's letter.

Hermione turned her accusing voice on Harry now, as he hadn't told them about this.

"And that's exactly why he didn't," Sirius scoffed at Hermione's never ending complaints.

Harry admitted he'd forgotten, as the instance with Cho had pushed the rest of that morning from his mind, before turning back to Sirius and saying no one could have gotten anything from that letter anyways.

"She doesn't believe anyone can do anything without her help," James rolled his eyes.

Sirius agreed at once it had been very good, beginning on that with Harry's scar.

Ron tried to ask what that meant, but Hermione shushed him and they'd tell later.

"I understand the need for the haste, but why hadn't you told Ron about this already?" Lily asked.

"Same reason I'd yet to tell Hermione about my detentions," Harry shrugged uneasily as he brought this back up himself but still explained, "hadn't come up until I was caught at it."

"You have that philosophy far too often," Remus huffed.

Sirius agreed he understood this couldn't be fun for Harry, but it had hurt like this before now.

Harry agreed it had just concerned him it had been extra bad around that Umbridge woman, but Sirius had no delusions she was a Death Eater.

Harry said she was foul enough to be one, while Sirius gave a wry smile and said the world wasn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

"I always want to faint in surprise when you pass on such words of wisdom," Lily smiled at him while Sirius grinned and Harry took a moment to register the truth of those words he'd never considered before.

Sirius did agree that he already knew of her reputation though, Remus went on enough about her.

That caught their attention with surprise, Lily going on eagerly to see what that foul woman had been saying about her friend, and hopefully some colorful recanting of what Remus had to say about it.

Harry asked in surprise how Lupin knew her, remembering Umbridge's comments about half-breeds during their first class.

James's mouth dried considerably as he did remember this. She hadn't been subtle in taking a shot at Remus, and he already felt a nasty fear of where this was going.

Sirius explained not personally, but she'd drafted some anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that made it impossible for him to get a job.

Lily spluttered with indignation nearly before she'd gotten that out, and that had nothing on his two friends. They already had every reason in the world wanting that sherbet-reject to shrivel up and die, turns out they should have been going for her head all those years ago. Was this in fact finally the reason Remus had left his post? That would have happened right around the time he left Hogwarts, when Snape had released his name as working at Hogwarts!

Instead of shrinking away whenever this topic came up, Remus looked a tad concerned for this news, and not just for himself. It was very rare to find any other werewolves who even tried to maintain a normal lifestyle with a job and such, but with this bit of legislation being passed it was as if they were being told not to even bother with that. He'd never complained of the restrictions of the jobs they could get because he recognized the danger in his own kind, but was the Ministry moving even further away in trying to phase out his whole kind, truly turn them into no more than animals that needed to be killed. How could they ever show how normal they could be if no one gave them a chance? Then he reminded himself what he'd long since came to the conclusion of, no one cared.

Harry remembered how much shabbier Lupin looked these days and his dislike of Umbridge deepened even further.

Remus blinked in a bit of surprise for that. From what he'd gathered, Harry hadn't much to do with him in his own time, so the fact that he had such a strong reaction like that really did warm him up a bit. He really hadn't thought it possible for a long time anyone outside his friends could see him as any more than a monster, but first Lily and now Harry...

Hermione demanded what that woman had against werewolves, and Sirius said it was all part-humans, she'd even tried to round up all merpeople and have them tagged a few years back, imagine wasting the energy on such things when toe rags like Kreacher were about.

"I'm sure she doesn't like them any better," Remus scoffed to try and lighten back up the mood, at least trying to pretend as he always did he hadn't heard a word about this. "House-elves do have a certain human shape but aren't, so they're in the-"

Sirius elbowed him in the ribs to get him to shut up, no one wanted to hear him play this off right now.

Ron laughed but Hermione looked offended, trying to tell Sirius if he'd just make an attempt, she was sure Kreacher would respond.

Sirius knew he'd rather lose his dessert privileges than indulge in any such nonsense, and wished Hermione would quit harping on that.

Harry thought the same, if only because it left such a tight feeling of unease in him he felt the urge to cry and refused to understand why.

Dumbledore did say-

Sirius blatantly ignored her and asked what Umbridge's lessons were like, was she training them to kill half-breeds?

"No, that would actually be useful," Remus snorted lightly, before wincing and wishing he hadn't spoken at all for the nasty look his friends gave him for that.

Harry said no while Hermione looked affronted her defense had been cut off.

"You'd really think at some point she'd realize, no one cares!" James threw his hands up in exasperation.

She wasn't letting them use magic at all.

This didn't surprise Sirius though, as he'd heard that the Minister was growing more paranoid by the day and no longer wanted the students trained in combat.

Harry was stunned, asking why, did she think they were forming their own army?

Sirius agreed that was exactly what his delusions feared, the man thought Dumbledore was amassing his own force to overthrow the Ministry.

"I've never heard something so idiotic in my life," James deadpanned, "and I've lived with these two for seven years."

"I, really wish Sirius was making a joke right now," Lily agreed.

There was a pause before Ron stated that was the stupidest thing he'd heard in his life, and he'd been around Luna Lovegood.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment, or-" Sirius began in confusion before Remus shushed him.

Hermione was outraged this was the reason behind their lack of education, while Sirius elaborated Fudge was convinced Dumbledore would do anything to get power, it's only a matter of time before he has the man arrested at this point.

"That'll be the day," Remus scoffed while Harry frowned at the idea, he really didn't like the sound of that.

Harry asked if he knew anything about this big deal that was supposed to be in the Prophet tomorrow Percy had dropped hints about, but Sirius said he hadn't a clue, no one had actually been around all week.

Lily's voice shook with pity there, to which Sirius was both grateful for, and wanted to make some snide comment at her for. Thankfully she kept going loudly before he could act on either.

Sirius' voice had quickly turned bitter as he said this, so Harry instead asked about Hagrid.

Sirius didn't seem too concerned, saying while he was supposed to be back by now and they weren't sure why he wasn't,

"Tactless as ever," Lily grumbled at him, ignoring her own increasing worry at those confirmed fears. Surely if this was a real problem though Sirius would be more concerned, he at least had a like for Hagrid even without knowing what all he'd done for Harry. This wasn't necessarily a death sentence if someone didn't come back from a mission on schedule...

but upon seeing their stricken faces Sirius quickly said Dumbledore wasn't worried about it, so everything was surely fine. Maxime had gone with him, and she'd arrived back on schedule and simply said they'd split up on the journey home, there was no reason to suggest a real problem.

"I think we need to have a refresher course on those talks about reassuring people Sirius," Remus groaned, as that had helped no one at any point it seemed.

The three exchanged a still anxious look, but Sirius insisted for them not to go around asking questions and drawing attention to this.

"We haven't been," Harry said just a touch indignantly, "you were the only one I'd asked."

"Well I know that now," Sirius rolled his eyes in exasperation, causing Harry to back down.

Then Sirius flipped topics to asking when their next Hogsmeade weekend was, he wanted to show up and-

"And just why would you think that would cheer them up?" Lily began anxiously as she fought the compulsion to stick a muzzle on Sirius. "You were already spotted once, what makes you think it a good idea to have another go?"

"Stop being such a worry wart Lily," James scoffed at once. "He needs out of that place more, even if it is at sporadic times like Hogsmeade weekends."

"Where was this attitude last year?" Remus demanded uneasily, this conversation just kept getting worse with everything his last best friend said.

"Last year Sirius was on the run, getting all the air he needed, so I was just worried about him covering his tail," James scowled at Remus for the lack of backup. "Now I'm worried what he'll do if he doesn't get out more."

Sirius longed for the time where he could have basked in having a whole conversation about him, now he just looked miserable and didn't account for anyone, he just wanted to forget about the existence of that house and his whole damn future.

Harry and Hermione shouted no at once, Hermione quickly saying the article they'd found this morning. Sirius brushed this off, saying they were always guessing something and it never panned out.

"I mean, I suppose so long as Kingsley is still pushing for Australia or something, whatever Malfoy said could be brushed off easily enough," Remus tried to say with some encouragement that fell flat to all worried parties.

Harry insisted Lucius had spotted him near that train, and what if Draco did in Hogsmeade?

"Then don't go near Malfoy," James scoffed. "Honestly, Padfoot knows every hole of that area better than the local cats."

"Doesn't make the risk any less," Lily sighed without too much of a fight, recognizing whatever Sirius wanted to do, he'd do it with or without anyone's support.

Sirius scowled at them before saying he wouldn't, he'd just thought they'd like to get together.

"You really are breaking my heart here pup," Sirius tried for a flippant tone while Harry eyed his godfather with great worry. Ever since he'd left that platform, Harry had an ever growing fear of the next time Sirius left that house, leaving his tongue paralyzed and unable to respond...

Harry insisted he just didn't want to see him back in Azkaban!

Sirius' face went flat blank as he said Harry was less like his father than Sirius had thought, the risk would have been what made it fun for James.

Sirius actually recoiled, suddenly looking ready to burst into tears any moment as he had concrete proof. Merlin's sake, he really had lost his mind if he thought even for a moment he'd been talking to James-

Lily had just huffed and rolled her eyes at the stupid comment, she didn't even seem to realize Sirius had taken it so personally while James kept his eyes firmly on his best mate now.

Remus reacted on instinct by smacking Sirius upside the head for that, muttering, "would you rather him be like you, not thinking before you speak."

Sirius hardly seemed to realize what had been spoken as he whispered back, "that hurt you know."

Remus wasn't sure if he meant the comment, or the blow, as he rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't damage anything important."

"All of me is important!" He shot back with almost a pout, managing to keep himself distracted at least for a few seconds while Lily finished.

Harry tried to say something else, but Sirius said he'd write again whenever Harry could stand the risk, and then he was gone.

Remus was looking from James to Sirius uneasily, as Lily looked up to indicate she was done and seemed to realize for the first time that had bothered the two, so Remus began ardently, "wonder if we should take a quick break again. I'm sure someone should check on the baby's dipper, and I-"

"Yeah, that's great Moony. Padfoot, can I borrow you for a moment," James snapped, not waiting for any preamble as he made his way for the stairs and Sirius followed reluctantly.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

* This one gets under my skin out of confusion. Either Harry has completely forgotten the fact that he was the one who had to trick Malfoy into giving Dobby that sock, otherwise he could have just done it himself and set Dobby free if that was his intentions, or he really thought Hermione found a way around this law and it's just never addressed. This is a real problem with the narrative between two and five that is never brought up.

**I know that's a really subjective number, considering by most math there would only be about 300, but JK has said there were actually almost a thousand. I personally more invasion somewhere in the middle, though I imagine the population slump from the war and other variables actually makes the number fluctuate between those two numbers throughout the years, so who really knows.

*** This moment genuinely annoys me for two reasons. The twins specifically say the purple half is the 'cure' pill for their works, and this is proven in the very last chapter where they gave purple pills to the first years to wake them up, so they did indeed give the right pill. Problem two with this, is then, what do you mean you gave her the wrong pill? Either you color swapped a batch in which case you lot are far more idiotic than I thought for all your hard work doing this, or this is just some serious (shut up Sirius!) errors with the flowing work. Twice in one chapter man...

[douxie-casperan]

☽ for the memory meme? :)

☽ - A memory of their father

At least a whole month had passed since the three of them had come to end up in a somehow even more scrungy apartment based in the heart of New York City and despite the chill of the air Douxie had snuck outside onto the balcony in dire need of something a bit fresher than the mustiness of inside to be alone with his thoughts. Despite all the filtration wards that had been set up to make Nari that little bit more comfortable they barely seemed to be making a dent and the second he realised he was fidgeting more than focusing on the paper sitting on the coffee table outside seemed the wiser course and so here he was.

Stupid as it might sound life of late was feeling disturbingly monotonous in how it was get up early (UGH), grab something quick to go because there wouldn’t be a chance to eat until the first shift was over, hopefully get a snack before heading to the second job then if really lucky have enough time to crawl back here to collapse somewhere with no energy left for much else except on those scarce days off eked out when the stars aligned right. The three job days were even worse, you wouldn’t think his sleep schedule could get even more erratic but it turns out the threat of higher rent could do that to anyone and he was a particularly soft target to begin with.

On top of that as someone who adores travelling staying put for long usually drove him stir crazy after a few months he was already showing signs of it happening here too. In comparison somehow Arcadia never did, maybe it was because it’d felt like a home much like Camelot had done once? Part of the reason was definitely the fact Zoe could be a constant for the first time ever compared to the days, weeks or months scattered over the centuries whereas now they were once again forced apart by both wrong end of the continent stuck with phone calls or laughing at one another over the camera only. He misses the bookshop so much work had been put into, the customers that came into Benoit’s always asking how he was doing, the novelty of not having to pretend trolls didn’t exist even if the whole Akriridon thing was a surprise not to mention the apocalypse round two that came with them. It was a good normal and one he was felt a bit lost without.

Leaving also meant that certainty of Merlin was out there somewhere waiting for his moment to pop back up really was gone, something that had been a constant reassuring thought and it’s almost like being a moored boat just one wave away from drifting to parts unknown. Much like the explosion some things that happened still didn’t seem real, more like they were more this weirdly vivid nightmare that forgot to let him wake up so was stuck in a golden haze with no way out.

Glancing through the door he can just about make out Archie perched next to Nari on the armrest having grabbed the sofa for herself and looks to be marvelling at something on the TV making him smile softly. It’s likely one of the David Attenborough docs she seemed to have become quite taken with particularly in how the camera could ‘travel’ between all these places faster than even she could. Neither had the heart to say it was clever video editing, even the magical deserved a bit of sparkle in their lives. This’ll just be for him then and that’s fair enough.

Grabbing one of the two shoddy white plastic lawn chairs he’d picked up dirt cheap with the added bonus of easy cleaning he sits down and pulls his favourite guitar into his lap. Taking a deep breath to try and dislodge anything that might be rattling around his throat that shouldn’t be he begins to strum a few testing notes and making a few minor adjustments to get things about how they’re needed. There had been words banding through his head the past twenty minutes and if they weren’t going to let themselves be written down then going straight to testing will have to do he supposed. Using the staff was an option but… Maybe when he is more certain that he won’t be spit balling something terrible, on the fly usually fell one way and not always in the positive.

Grazing the strings once then a second time, the wizard begins to quietly sing not at all caring who might hear.

~*---*~

Within the earliest boughs of Spring

Everything felt fresh, new and wild

Full of possibilities it could bring

Was spared a sword and led away

Into the court of a King

Things were so innocent back then

-

Night became day and day into night

With chores as endless as my curiosity

Who could have imagined such a sight?

An orphan free to roam in a castle

Yet easily scared by a simple knight

I guess it was only a matter of when

-

As I grew older things started to change

You saw something coming, didn’t you?

I noticed, I did, even thought it strange

You grew quieter and the arguments worse

Everything I knew had started to rearrange

Spring was finally coming to an end

-

That Summer would burst into life

Blazing ready to reduce everything to ash

It sensed blood and carried a long knife

Poked and prodded them all just so

Then marvelled at the ensuring strife

With hindsight it was such an obvious trend

-

Within your fabled workshop

You would perfect the Amulet

After working for hours and hours nonstop

A weapon to save Camelot you said

But it was not humans it would adopt

To Trolls instead it would ascend

-

Killahead came ordering lines to be redrawn

I remember that Arthur was lost first

Wasn’t this supposed be a new dawn?

Yet I lost a sister, a Master, a home

And only more resentment did it spawn

There was only Archie now I could depend

-

Time started to become rather slippery

Though I did what you bade to the letter

Silently we became watchers of history

Dwelling in this brand new Autumn

I was spending it in as much happiness as misery

Some days it was much harder to pretend

-

During a trip to Babylon fought a specterghast

Helped move a strigoi on that was haunting folks

Honestly the adventures have been unsurpassed

The people, the food, all of the places

The future started to seem so much brighter than the past

Even met someone who’d one day be more than a friend

-

Learned far more than I dared dream

Visited places beyond imagination

Though couldn’t say much for my self esteem

All I wanted was to do right by you

I guess my life had a running theme

One that the passing years alone would never mend

-

Eventually the leaves began to fade

It must have started when I settled in Arcadia

Then upon a day when the world fell into shade

The first sign came in the form of an eclipse

To protect people I stood there unafraid

As the Winter began to descend

-

Seeing you again was like some form of rehash

Current or younger we argued just the same

Then suddenly my entire world was over in a flash

You even said you were proud of me

Before in my arms you turned to ash

And to another plane you would transcend

-

It would all came down to one last spell

I fought so hard for us all

But it was time for a final farewell

Everything moved too fast

No one was left to catch me when I fell

Only hearts to rend

-

Goodbye

It was so hard to say

This second chance, a retry

I love you both, I hope you know?

No matter what that was never a lie

Not being here though, it’s hard to comprehend

-

But I’m still here

The path ahead is clear

I refuse to simply disappear

No longer bowing to my own fear

Every word is spoken sincere

Because my time is now

-

This life is my own to walk

 ~*---*~

As the last few words leave his lips he is not ashamed to admit that tears had started falling probably about four verses back and are still coming so he tries to rub the evidence away on a sleeve. Unfortunately all it ends up doing is smearing salt into blue eyeshadow leaving him even more of a mess than he’d started plus an aching chest. It hurts so damn much but it is a good hurt, a reprieve.

“Some grand tribute, huh? Still can’t do much without it all setting me off again.” It is said half sighed while leaning back where he is barely able to make a single star out because of all the lights that blare well into the night unknowingly snatching away another source of comfort. But they’re still there he knows, watching as they have his entire life. Nothing is forever in the world of magic nor in life, not as long as somebody is still there to talk about it.

“Thank you for everything, Master.”

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 18

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Swearing. Micah

.....

Chapter 18

Arthur didn’t return that night, nor was he there by the time morning arrived. I spent all day unable to focus on anything. Like everyone and everything around me was moving at a higher speed than I was. Leaving everything as a blur. Once I was done with everything and positive that Grimshaw wasn’t going to find something else for me to do, I made my way over to the horses. 

Tossing the finished cigarette I was smoking to the side I strolled over to my girl, Orion. Giving her a few rubs on her chestnut and white nose and sharing my apple with her, biting into it a few times as she looked on waiting to get some herself. I usually take a couple of minutes every day to spend time with her, but the last few days I had been neglectful. Thankfully that O’Driscoll boy, Keiran, was doing a fine job of taking care of her and the others. You could always find him here a little away from the camp and the teasing comments.

“Do you have a spare brush I could borrow?” I asked him as he tended to Old Boy.

“I do, Miss.” He replied quietly. Going over to a bag propped up against one of the hitching posts and retrieving the brush. Handing it over with a timid smile before going back to what he was doing. 

I brushed down Orion, giving her soft words of comfort. One of her hind legs resting as she relaxed from the attention. I couldn’t help but look out towards the path beyond just hoping for him to turn up, unharmed and with an explanation. Drowning out all noise from the camp behind me to focus on what could be heard within the canopy of the trees surrounding us. Nothing but the rustling of small creatures through the grass and birds in the trees. I offered to take watch. Relieving a thankful Javier of the duty. 

The hours ticked on as I stood there, the next feeling longer than the last. With the rifle at my side, I kept myself hyper-aware of any noise or disturbance. The day eventually turned into night. But still no sign. Maybe being here alone with my thoughts wasn’t a grand idea. Various thoughts and scenarios at the forefront of my mind. He could have been captured and killed by the O’Driscolls on his way to meet up with Dutch and Micah. His body dumped where he would never be found. The law or Pinkertons could have apprehended him. In a cell ready to be hanged if he hadn’t already been executed to prevent any risk of him getting away. My hands shook with agonising worry. Taking slow deep breaths in an attempt to steady myself lest I lose it completely. 

John approached at some point when it was completely dark, carrying a lamp with him. He offered to take over. Stating I had been out here for almost six hours. 

“Abigail told me you are worried about Arthur,” he said, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned against the tree I was previously attached to.

Still unable to tear my eyes away from the path I took in a shaky breath before speaking “Seems like I’m the only one.”

“It’s not strange for him to be away for days. But even I can tell this is different.”

“Has Dutch given any implication that he’s going to look for him?” I eventually looked at him. The lamp he placed on the floor lighting up the side of his face, his healed scars more pronounced in the yellow glow.

He just shook his head. He handed me a cigarette from his pack as I made my way back to camp. Probably his attempt of comfort. I picked up a couple of beers as I passed the wagon, completely passing the surrounded fire and made a beeline to my tent. Ready for another restless night.

…..

The morning I was welcomed with the watered-down, piss-water excuse for coffee at the fire. Swallowing it down with a grimace and debating to switch it to beer or whiskey for breakfast. 

Micah made his way over, pouring himself a cup. “Whoever made this coffee needs to be banned from doing so ever again,” I said, my tone as bitter as the liquid in the cup. 

He just huffed and groaned as he sat beside me on the log. Keeping his distance but still much closer than I would like him to be.

Soon letting out an aggravated hum after the first taste. 

“Ya know. It’s cute the way you worry about us men,” He leered at me, taking another sip.

He’s not wrong in thinking I would be worried if it was any of the others. Just not to this magnitude. 

“Of course I’m worried.”

He moved closer closing the gap slightly, my body tensing in preparation to move away. I should have because once he placed his hand on my knee I froze as I looked down. Wondering what the fuck made him think he could put his hands on me.

“I’m willing to take out of camp for a few hours. Take your mind off it…” I could feel his eyes on me, his foul breath on my face. It took all my willpower not to shove him to the floor.

“...Make you forget for a while.” That’s it. I latched onto his hand to force him away. Now standing so he was out of reach. Anger and disgust plain as day on my face when I faced him.  

“What makes you think I want that, Micah?” 

“Just suggesting a bit of fun.”

“First of all…” I began pointing my finger in his direction “We must have a different meaning of fun. Secondly, never put your hands on me again.” My brows raised waiting for his retort.

“Well, I didn't take you for a prude.” He snarled 

“No. I’d just rather lay with someone I like as a person.”

“Like baby-blues Morgan? All over each other like a rash. That's why you’ve been a sour bitch lately? Ya ain’t getting ya legs spread?”  He stood then, drifting closer and oozing cockiness. That smirk still on his face.

“What if he doesn’t come back? 

“Get fucked, Micah.” I didn't give him time to respond, turning on my heels and towards the lake to calm myself down before I throttle the bastard. Inhaling the warm air slowly to ease my irritation. Focusing on the sun's rays rippling on the surface of the water.

…..

I stayed by the river most of the day as it rolled into the evening. Taking the pile of clothing that needed repairing or altering with me. Taking short walks along the water when the pain in my back and hands got a bit too much. The sky changed from its brilliant blue into intense oranges and yellows, like the sky was ablaze for those couple of hours. The full moon now making its face detectible amongst the lingering clouds. A single Blue Jay with a coat in such a vivid deep blue and white that I had never seen before perched on a rock nearby. My silent companion.

It was then, still sitting on that log with a steaming coffee in hand and a pile of fixed garments at my side that I heard a commotion on the other side of camp. 

Mary-Beth’s usual delicate voice now one of panic, shouting for help.

I rushed into camp, preparing to pick up my gun from my tent fully expecting the panic to be an ambush of some sort. That we had been found by O’Driscolls or the Pinkertons finally brought their men to kill everyone as promised. I wasn’t expecting to see the Tennessee Walker that has been missing for days. Mary-Beth and Karen stood over a body. 

Running over I could feel the panic now setting in. Falling to my knees beside him. Relief washing over me knowing he was still alive. But he was in a serious way, the ragged wound on his shoulder emitting the stench of iron and gunpowder. Dutch made his way over then, the man in complete shock. 

“I told you it was a set up, Dutch…” His voice was strained and hoarse. It was a miracle he was able to get back from the state he was in. His hand went to me, holding on with what little strength he had. But I held him anyway, my other hand propping up his head as he tried to sit up but completely unable without help. Dutch called out for Grimshaw and Swanson. Pearson now beside me, apologising profusely. Dutch continued to shout as Pearson and I lifted him, his full weight bearing down on us as we made our way to his cot, dropping him down as gently as possible with a groan from the three of us. Grimshaw came barreling through then, pushing me out of the way causing me to lose my grip on him. Swanson dropping a bag of medical supplies beside her. Both of them getting to work. 

“Best if you stand outside, Miss Bella,” Swanson advised. The sounds and movements surrounding me seeping back to my senses. 

I looked at Arthur again, a faraway look on his sweat covered face. Letting out pained gasps every so often.

“I’m not leaving,” I said matter-of-factly

“Do as he says. This ain’t gonna be pretty.” Grimshaw glanced at me then. Sharpness to her tone and her face contorted in determination. 

Leaving the area I let the canvas fall in front of me but I didn't go far. Stood rooted to the spot only a few metres away. They must have been stitching him up, his agonising inhales and grunts being the only thing I could hear. I felt a hand tenderly placed on my shoulder, making me jump. It was Abigail and I didn’t realise I was crying until my eyes met her face. She squeezed my shoulder slightly but didn't speak. 

It wasn’t long till Grimshaw and Swanson made their exit, blood covering their hands. 

“He’s weak and slightly drunk, but he should pull through,” She said flatly, taking in my tear-stained cheeks. “Go in, he asked for you.” 

I made my way in immediately. His union suit pulled down to his waist. His shoulder now wrapped in gauze and bandages. He must have been slipping in and out of consciousness or the alcohol was putting him to sleep. I sat on the chair beside his bed, a bucket of water at my feet with a clean rag in it. I took the rag and wrung it out, folding it up and placing it on his forehead to help cool him down. My free hand taking hold of his once again. He roused slightly from my touch. His eyes glazed and distant when he looked at me. The exhale was drawn out as he closed his eyes again, murmuring something incoherent, letting sleep overcome. But I couldn’t miss the squeezing of my hand, no matter how faint.

@kashasenpai​ @fallout-cowgirl​

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Helping Hand

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This story feels like fan content-ception to me, as it spawned from some NSFW art I made featuring Izaya, which was made from doodles to start with. Still scheming, but a lot more simple than my other fics with Izaya. Leaving this one a little open-ended in case I came back to it for Izaya returning the favor as he suggested. Not currently decided for sure though. I recently got my first request for Izaya and am brewing that, though it could be some time before I can get something down. It should be pretty fun though and spicier than this. (Note: Apologies for no cut - I am not sure how I add a cut with the new editor :/) Summary Invited over to Izaya’s apartment, Reader arrives too early and interrupts the informant’s alone time. And unfortunately (or fortunately), Izaya has no qualms about asking for a little help. Tags/Warnings Blowjobs, Come Swallowing, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut

Helping Hand (F! Reader/Izaya Orihara)

Arriving at the non-descript door in the hall of the impressive-looking apartment building, you hesitated. A few quick glances confirmed the numbers by the door matched up with the information listed in your phone’s address book. A few times before you had been to the apartment, but you hadn’t memorized everything about the address. All things considered, it was surprising you weren’t late this time, as you had been each time in the past. Maybe you were improving a little.

You raised a fist and drummed it against the door, starting light and polite. Nothing. You rapped harder. Surely that was loud enough to be heard? Your assumption was disproved when all that met you was silence, leaving you alone still in the hallway. You frowned in frustration and impatience. You knocked a third time, waiting a minute, wondering if he was preoccupied or just enjoying making you wait. When all remained quiet again, your frown deepened.

You looked back down at your phone, silently navigating to the texting feature and typing you a message irritably.

(X:XX PM): I’m here. I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear it.

You didn’t need to wait more than fifteen seconds before your phone buzzed in reply. Two words met your gaze, followed after a moment by a second slightly longer message.

Izaya (X:XX PM): You’re early.

Izaya (X:XX PM): I’m a little busy right now.

You paused, your scowl becoming confusion, and you scrolled back up through the conversation. The log confirmed the time you had been told and the one in the corner of your phone matched. ‘ Early? Right. Don’t tell me Izaya of all people forgot.’

(X:XX PM): I checked and either I’m on time or you screwed up and sent me the wrong time.

Arguing with him wouldn’t do you any good one way or another; Izaya wasn’t one to genuinely apologize for any inconveniences he caused others. But correcting him made you feel a little better and somewhat less cross at least.

Izaya (X:XX PM): Oh, did I?

Izaya (X:XX PM): Well, if you don’t like waiting, you can just come in. Door’s unlocked.

Your face twisted again, now into a skeptical surprise. Izaya just left his door unlocked? Izaya Orihara, the man who had probably as many enemies as he had clients, decided it was smart to let whoever wanted to waltz right in. Yeah, that made sense. You wondered if he enjoyed the excitement of the potential danger.

(X:XX PM): Hardly seems like a good idea for YOU to leave your door unlocked, but whatever.

With a dismissive shrug, you tucked your phone into your pocket and reached for the knob. Pushing it open, you stepped inside quickly and closed it gently behind you. You took a step away before pausing, turning back and locking the door as an afterthought. Izaya could endanger himself all he wanted, but you would rather there be at least some kind of barrier between whatever messy trouble came looking for him.

Walking past the foyer, you expected to see him perched on his chair, clacking noisily away at his keyboard, fixed on the screens of his computers and cellphones or something of the sort. The chair was empty though, turned away from the screens. You scanned the area for the ever-frustrating information broker. Quickly, you noticed him tucked away in the corner of the dark-colored leather section, his back facing you. His head rested against the couch, one long arm lying curled over its back. For someone supposedly busy, Izaya looked pretty relaxed from where you were standing.

“You don’t look real busy to me,” you accused once you spotted him.

Izaya shifted, tilting his head further back to glance over his outstretched arm at you. “Oh, I am, I assure you.” He looked and sounded as collected as ever, as if nothing could or should trouble him. Except… was it just you, or did his face seem a bit red? “But I’ll be just a few minutes. Feel free to wait for me there,” Izaya suggested. There was something off as well about the quality of his voice you couldn’t place.

“Uh huh,” you said, unsure if you felt unsettled or just irritated still. Maybe a little of both.

He had told you to wait, yet your curiosity nagged at you viciously, demanding to see what exactly preoccupied him. Or maybe it was indignation needing to see what was so pressing he couldn’t remember the time he had told you. You took a few steps, intending to round the recessed floor area and the sectional to see what he was doing.

“You really should wait over there,” he warned you casually, the strange tone of his voice sounding stronger, but still indecipherable.

You scoffed, ignoring the warning and carrying on. When you swept around the corner of the area though, what you saw stopped you dead in your tracks, poised on the lip of the steps down. At first the strangled squeak that burst from your mouth didn’t quite register, nor did the immediate hot flush that fell across your face.

Izaya looked very comfortable where he sat, leaning back into the plush cushions. From the top-down, at first he looked perfectly normal, if a little flushed, one of his usual ‘v’-neck shirts tantalizing displaying a bit of his delicate-looking collarbones. Though the picture grew more suspect the further you went. The hem of his shirt was lifted, askew and higher on one side than the other, exposing his lean torso. That wasn’t nearly so scandalous though, as even further down.

He sat nude from the waist down, his pants and belt pooled around his ankles. His cock stood prominently between his splayed legs, a flushed tone to match the rosy tint in cheeks and leaking pre-cum. As if walking on Izaya with his pants literally down wasn’t mortifying enough, one hand was wrapped leisurely around his cock. Obviously he had been in the process of jerking off, and still was, having not bothered to stop even once you had caught him in the act.

What you were looking at hit you all at once, and a stream of half-finished sentences exploded out. “I’I’m sorry, I-- But what are you--? Why would let me come in if that’s what you’re busy doing?! You began in an apologetic voice, though your apology quickly turned to indignation at the fact Izaya’d had plenty of time to put himself away before you came in. Before he invited you, for example, and then before he greeted you.

“Well, I did warn you.” Izaya’s speech held no hint of apology. The shameless, steady stroke of his hand up and down confirmed he was not bothered whatsoever. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to show up early and be nosy, darling.”

At last you recognized the tone in his voice you hadn’t been able to place before. Something husky and thick, a silky accent to his already smooth voice. You felt stupid not being able to put two-and-two together from his voice and face.

“I’m not early! I-it’s not my fault you told me the wrong time,” you tried to hide the shakiness in your voice with anger, though you knew Izaya was a master at seeing through masks.

You wanted to turn, to look away, but you found yours glued to the sight of him, stunned like a deer in headlights. Maybe it was his audacity that was truly so stunning. I’m just gonna go and come back later,” you ground out through teeth after you tore your eyes away from the enticingly lewd scene.

“Oh? But like I said, I’ll only be a little bit.” You nearly choked again from Izaya’s boldness. He really expected you to just wait around while he jacked off like it was nothing? For someone who claimed to love humans and all their emotions and behaviors so much, you really wondered how much he really understood them sometimes. “You know, if you wanted to lend a hand, it might be even sooner.”

You made another embarrassing noise, your eyes snapping back around and fixing on his own. The expression in his sharp brown eyes told you he wasn’t just you or making some inappropriate joke, not completely. Izaya was dead serious suggesting you ‘lend him a hand’ with his current ‘business’. You should have been mad. You should have been uncomfortable. You should have walked away then. But something else was creeping up and up, suppressing what you should have done, leaving behind the sense that you didn’t quite hate the idea.

You weren’t ready to give in completely, though, not yet. “Was that your plan when you invited me over?” You tried to deflect once more, but your angry speech was half-hearted.

He gave a small shrug, still languorously pumping his hand up and down, smearing a new bead of pre-cum along the head of his dick. You licked your lips, and you weren’t sure whether it was from nerves or hunger. “Who knows? Maybe, maybe not.” Of course Izaya would give you a nonsense answered that told you nothing.

“Can you just put your pants on, please?” You tried weakly, a last ditch effort to squish down the hot feeling suffusing you and to call his bluff. But Izaya wouldn’t be moved.

“Weren’t you leaving though?” He questioned calmly. “So why should I? Then I can’t take care of this.” You groaned mentally at his ‘logic’ that amounted to his typical games. “So, what’s stopping you?”

You didn’t speak, listening only to the slick sound of Izaya stroking himself, as if trying to come up with an appropriate excuse. But there was none. You were still there because you wanted to be. You sputtered some nonsense at first, before sighing in defeat.

“I...I just… fine,” you mumbled, unable to meet his cutting gaze when you agreed.

He didn’t seem bothered or surprised by your admission, and when you looked back up, he was smirking widely, as if he had expected you to crumble and play right into his hands. “Well, what are you waiting for then?”

You nearly scowled at the impatience of the question, but shook your head. You approached quickly, stopping once you stood in front of him. You licked your lips again and swallowed thickly, kneeling between his legs. Up close and personal with his cock, it you for real the favor you had submitted yourself to. It made your stomach twist in a way that was pleasantly hot, but with a nervous flutter. But even if he would probably let you, there was no back down now. You had dug your hole and you intended to stay in it.

Feeling Izaya’s eyes burning down onto you, you lifted a hand tentatively, more intimidated than you would have admitted. You nearly jumped when the hand he had been pleasuring himself with seized yours. Your face was on fire as he guided your hand over his shaft, helping you wrap it around the heated skin. He made a small sound in the back of his throat at the contact, his palm lingering over your hand. Gingerly, you shifted your hand up and down, mimicking him, the skin hot and velvety under your fingers.

“There, just like that,” Izaya cooed, his hips rocking up into your touch. His hand left yours to bury itself in the cushion beside him.

You chanced a subtle glance up, past his exposed torso and up his chest. His head lolled back against the sofa back, and his chest rose and fell deeply in more noticeable, pleasured breaths as you stroked. He seemed more than willing to sit back and fully indulge in your touch, apparently a far more exhilarating experience than his own.

“What a good girl,” he praised as your grip tightened you pumped his cock more surely, enjoying the noises that vibrated up his chest. They were low and smooth, containing all the richness of his speaking voice, yet none of the frustrating teasing or condescension. “Mmph, a little hard, don’t be shy,” he coaxed, giving a particularly eager buck of his hips, a new drop of pre-cum beading on the head of his dick.

You did as instructed, and the sound of his breathing deepened more, the small, pleasant sounds morphing into longer, bawdy groans. “How’s that?” you prompted, the confidence from watching him come slowly undone steadying your voice, the sheer arousal in it surprising you.

“Mm, good, keep going.”

You stuck to the steady rhythm you had set, your tongue wetting suddenly dry lips again as you alternated between watching Izaya’s blissful form above you and his throbbing cock in front of you. You moved your idle hand up, cradling his balls in your palm and rubbing gently, rewarded with even more erotic noises. You weren’t sure whether you were more turned on by the eroticism of the sounds themselves, or the fact you were hardly ever heard Izaya sound so unrestrained.

Your gaze stopped, lingering on his cock, and you decided if you were going to help out, you may as well have a little more fun, as well as satisfy the hunger building in you. You bent forward, your breath fanning over the head hotly, and you barely caught a shiver roll through Izaya. You leaned closer, opening your mouth and licking coyly at the flushed head, the bitter taste of pre-cum flooding your senses.

“ Oh .” The word was surprised, excited almost, made even more so by the breathiness that carried it. “I didn’t even have to ask you to do that.” Your faced burned with embarrassment you fought to ignore, letting your lips wrap around the head, swirling your tongue along the underside. “More eager than you let on, I see. But I’m not complaining.”

Izaya relaxed more limply against the cushions, save for the rhythmic roll of his hips meeting the hot, wet touch of your mouth. You sank down on his cock more, slowly, trying to account for the motion of his hips to not choke yourself on his length. Fortunately, though it was steady, his pace was languid, letting you adjust easily. You took as much as you could without inciting your gag reflex, shifting between dancing your tongue along his skin or pressing flat against the underside or teasing the head where it connected to his shaft.

Above you, Izaya’s dulcet chorus of groans and mumbled words escalated and his fingers met the top of your head. They curled loosely, massaging methodically, neither forcing you down or adjust to a new pace.

“Hmm, and they say I’ve got a talented tongue,” Izaya hummed huskily and you couldn’t stifle a low moan in answer, the sound shooting through Izaya and making his hips stutter. “Sure seems like you know to use yours though,” he praised again, and you could make out the teasing tone you were so used to among his lusty, strained voice.

Izaya fell silent for a time, or at least he fell wordless, panting and groaning his pleasure, the sounds accentuated by the wet noises you made while you sucked him off. But Izaya’s was a mouth that couldn’t stand staying silent for long. “You can take a little more, can’t you?” He asked insistently, his fingers tightening their loose hold. He thrust his hips more roughly into your mouth as you sank down again, as if punctuating his question.

Tears stung at your eyes for an instant as the tip of his dick touched your throat and you inhaled deeply to relax it. You took in even more of his cock, noticing the roll of his hips slow, as if accommodating you to take his length more easily. When you pulled back, his hand only let you go so far, effectively keeping you from pulling away. You indulged him, satisfied with the even more ragged breaths replacing his words and more of the salty fluid leaking from him.

Your jaw was beginning to ache, but you ached elsewhere as well, and it urged you to continue. With your mouth wrapped around him so intimately, you could tell Izaya was getting very close to cumming, from the increasing cant of his hips to the harsh pitch of his breath to the way his cock twitched, even more hard.

“Mm, that’s it. Almost there.” Izaya confirmed your suspicions, the lustiness of his tone adding to the urgency. “If you don’t want a mouthful, you might want to stop,” he warned you, surprisingly considerate in the moment.

Your eyes flickered up, but you didn’t stop, trying to hum your acknowledgement around a mouthful of his dick, working him even more eagerly.

“Oh, shit, you’re more obscene than I thought. If that’s how you want it,” His excitement pierced his arousal again, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so wrapped up in servicing him.

Thrusting into your mouth more desperately, his hips finally stuttered as he finished, filling your mouth with hot ropes of thick that you swallowed as soon as the bitter taste swept over your tongue. Several especially long, feral moans drifted from Izaya’s lips as you drank him down, until at last he was spent and there was nothing left for you to swallow. You drew away, wiping a smear of drool and some stray cum from your mouth with the back of your hand and resting back on your knees.

“There, that’s taken care of,” you said, your attempt to sound level and collected ruined by your own arousal making your voice overly breathy. “Now did you actually have a reason for inviting me over?”

Izaya laughed breathlessly, as if amused by your change of pace, lying boneless against the sectional. “Of course, my dear,” he answered when his laughter died, tipping his head forward to look at you. “I wouldn’t lie to your like that. Though, if you’d like, I can return the favor. It sounds like you need it.”

[ratchedspeach]

What about Lana Winters reminiscing on Wendy?

Oh so you’re looking for pain tonight, are you little nonnie? Nevertheless, here you are! Also thought you should know I listened to A Burning Hill by Mitski while writing this. Give it a listen, I think it will inform my headspace (-:

I’ll Love The Littler Things

The stairway stands before Lana like a goddamned funeral procession. Dead leaves are strewn across the front porch, and where they do not cover the once whitewashed deck, she can see month’s worth of dirt and grime greying the surface. Wendy hates that. Lana sucks her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the bits of dried skin she finds until she’s breathing somewhat evenly again.

She’s not able to speak about her in the past tense - not yet. She’s been free of Briarcliff for less than a full day. She’s talked to police officers, doctors, and more nuns than she’d ever cared to encounter. She’s told her story, told Wendy’s story. Still, she can’t speak it into existence for herself, because if she can just preserve that for herself, then the body on Thredson’s floor that she’d wept over and been forced to degrade remains anonymous. If she can talk about it like she’s still here, then maybe when she opens the front door, she’ll be met with the scent of pot trickling through the living room, with The Everly Brothets brother blasting over the record player, and Wendy’s smile that makes her black eyes crinkle.

She isn’t, of course. Stretched before her is the familiarity of a space she no longer recognizes. A chair at the dining table has been knocked over, dried blood and glass litter the hardwood floor, and a curtain has been ripped beyond repair. She fought hard. Lana blinks at a black box on the dining table. She approaches it with bated breath and slow steps until she’s within arm’s reach. Her fingers trace a line in the dust she finds settled atop it, and she clicks the latch.

Inside is a matchbox, some paper, and a distinct plastic bag of green. The weed’s scent is dull with time, and dry to the touch. It crumbles between her fingers, and with it goes Lana’s resolve. Tears push to the forefront of her vision, blearing her sight and mixing with the fine sheen of sweat permeating her cheeks and lower lip. She sucks in a breath and let’s it go too quickly, and then again, and again, until she can’t stop herself from seeing every moment that they had spent in this house; every Christmas they’d spent, every shower they’d shared, every dance they’d danced.

“God, Wendy. Ih-I’m sorry.” She wails, collapsing into a chair. The weed is held tight in her white knuckled grasp, and she clutches it to her chest, buckling at the middle so her forehead is practically touching her knees. Lana doesn’t know how long she cries for, only that it’s dark when she is able to break away from the rememberances.

Wind whips through the shattered glass of a window, and Lana shivers, the hair on her arms prickling. She pockets the baggie deep into her coat. She doesn’t move, not right away. Her time at Briarcliff has made her frail from malnutrition and sheer trauma, and she’s learned the hard way that standing too quickly usually sends her toppling over again. When she finally does stand, she’s not sure what for. She can’t bring herself to go to the living room for fear of seeing a photograph of them, can’t even fathom entering their bedroom for obvious reasons. Her fingers tap the cool metal of Wendy’s box, and she pulls it towards herself. It’s left a square spot of clean varnish on the table where it was protected from debris.

Something slams shut as another gust of wind bothers the broken window. Lana yelps, eyes screwing shut as her mind twists reality with the icebox in the basement that was once her prison. She drops Wendy’s box with a clamor, backing against a wall and letting her fingers scrape the wallpaper. Lana finds a light switch before she can allow the darkness permeating the space to play any further tricks on her mind. Warm light pools through the kitchen, accenting the dish left uncleaned in the sink, and the half empty bottle of wine on the counter.

This is all wrong. She shakes her head. All fucking wrong. She shouldn’t be here, not without Wendy. It feels like she’s trespassing on abandoned property; Lana supposes she is to some extent. The place had sat vacant for so long, a sort of limbo between the love and destruction that had taken place here. She wonders what she had been doing when Bloody Face found her. If she had died here, or if he’d waited until he had her in the basement. If he’d touched her here, if he’d -

“No.” She commands, electricity buzzing in her ears. She will not think of this, not here, not now. Not until she can bury Wendy, and give her the dignity she deserves. Thredson had taken enough from her, he would not take up any more space in her mind.

Exhaustion rattles through Lana’s system. She realizes she hasn’t eaten all day, but she can’t bring herself to open the fridge (she doubts there’s anything edible after so many months, anyway).

Everything reminds her of Wendy, but nothing makes her feel close to her. With the understanding that she is stuck living with the pain crackling through her chest, she makes her way up the stairs to the bedroom they once shared. There’s a set of pajamas draped on Wendy’s side of the bed. Lana perches next to them, fingers hovering just above the clover green material. She lies on her side, and her palm rests against the silk. The bed doesn’t smell like her anymore. Lana feels a damp spot forming on the comfertor beneath her.

When she wakes up, she’s still clutching Wendy’s pajamas like it’s a child’s security blanket. Lana rubs the last of the sleep from her eyes and cringes when her back protests as she sits up. Her head throbs, her muscles ache, Lana hasn’t looked in a mirror for months; she’s not sure exactly how long. She had caught glimpses of herself in the treys at Briarcliff’s bakery, or the various metal surfaces in Therdson’s factory of death, but nothing more. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she pushes off the bed towards the bathroom.

The mirror presents her with a person she does not recognize. The rose of her cheeks is gone, replaced by gaunt cheekbones and a protruding jawline. Bruises and cuts litter her face and neck - some new, some fading. Her eyes are dull, her hair is brittle, her lips are chapped. Something catches the corner of her vision in the mirror, a flash of jet black hair.

“Wendy.” She breaths, spinning fast enough to create specks of black in her vision. Lana blinks hard, bracing herself against the bathroom sink. As her eyes refocus, she realizes the folly of her error. “You better get used to this.” I won’t. I can’t.

It’s just barely dawn. The sun rises against the brisk fall weather in hues of orange and yellow. Clouds streak the sky, and it reminds her of fire and smoke.

They used to lie out in the grass naming the shapes of clouds. Lana had always found it juvenile, but Wendy loved it. She would lie with her legs crossed, squeezing her hand and pointing whenever she saw something in one of them. Lana remembered spending more time looking at Wendy than the sky. There, hidden by the shrubbery on the perimeter of their property, they were secluded from the rest of the world. She could kiss Wendy in the grass, trace her cheek, and rest her head atop her chest.

Lana doesn’t know she’s outside until the last of the memory fades behind her eyes. She sits down, fingers tracing the dead grass. The dry earth tickles the back of her neck and head when she lies down. She watched the clouds and tries to name a few, ignoring the tears streaking freely down her cheeks in rivulettes.

She hears Wendy’s voice in the wind, feels her presence in the grass next to her, and she aches.

[mystrangerfics]

Testing the Limits

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader 

Description: @jasonscotttrash Requested:  34.“Are you testing me?” with Billy please, my love <3

Work Count: 2571

Complete Story Warnings: Language & Smut. 18+

__ __ 

You sat perched in Billy’s lap as you glanced around the party, it was the usual crowd and the usual party, you were bored. You tipped the half empty cup in your hand back and forth with a small sigh before sipping it. You felt a gentle nudge against your thigh before a squeeze and looked down to see Billy looking at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“You could at least act like you want to be here,” he mumbled against your ear. His warm breath ran over your skin and you closed your eyes for a moment. 

“Well, you know what I wanted to do tonight,” you retorted before taking another sip from your cup and shrugging. “But you’d rather be here getting your ego stroked by all your fans.” You felt another squeeze on your thigh but a little harder this time and rolled your eyes. 

“Are you giving me an attitude right now?” Billy hissed in your ear and your back tensed in a pleasant way. 

“Are you going to do something about it?” You challenged with a little smirk before you went to take another sip of your drink. Billy grabbed your wrist and stopped you from taking your sip and you looked at him. 

“Are you testing me?” He asked and his tone made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“So what if I am? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked and looked down at him, your whole stare daring him to do something. 

“Get up and go to my car. I’ll be there in a minute,” Billy said with a stern voice that made you shake a little. You went to say something but he pinched your thigh again. “I didn’t say talk,” Billy snapped in your ear and grabbed your cup from your hand. “Go,” he hissed. 

You got up from the couch and turned, leaving from the living room and trying to avoid anyone you knew on the way out. You managed to get to Billy’s car and dared to climb into the backseat. You shifted on the seat so that you could slide your panties down over your legs. Once you had them off you sat them in the driver's seat and slipped down in the seat, relaxing a bit and kicking off your heels.

About an hour passed and you did your best not to grow irritated with Billy. You looked around in his backseat until you found a bottle of whisky crammed under the passenger side. You unscrewed the lid and tipped it back, sipping from the bottle until the burning became too much and you put the cover back on. 

Another hour went by and you were laid across the backseat, the now empty bottle of whisky was discarded on the floor. You heard the drivers side door creak open and shifted a bit. “Look who finally showed up,” you said before giggling drunkenly. “You done getting your ass kissed?” You went to lean forward in your seat but Billy hit the gas and slammed you back in the seat. “Ass!” 

“I can’t believe you came out here and got drunk,” Billy snapped and glanced back at you in his rearview mirror. 

“I can’t believe you left me waiting for two hours to get fucked,” you said bluntly. You leaned forward in the seat a bit and saw Billy had your panties in his pocket, you smirked a little. “Don’t you know I’ve been out here waiting for your dick,” you mumbled in his ear before you gently nibbled on his earlobe. 

Billy’s resolve started to diminish a little and he let his eyes slip shut to enjoy your burning mouth on his skin. He couldn’t wait any longer and when he got to a wooded area he pulled over onto the side of the road. “I can’t believe your fucking mouth.” Billy pulled you into the front seat with him and you straddled him happily. He watched your head fall back and you seemed to sigh just from the friction. “Jesus, babe. How fucking horny are you?” He asked before laughing a little. Billy softened his dominant demeanor a little, seeing how drunk you were. He never liked to do anything forceful with you when you were too drunk. He made a note to punish you properly another night.

You smiled at him and went to speak before a light shined on your face. You and Billy both squinted before turning your heads and seeing a bright light shining out of a passenger side window. 

“You ain’t doing it here, kids,” you heard the voice of Officer Callahan and smirked.

“Hey, Phil! Hey, Calvin!” You cheered and leaned out the window with a smile and wave. 

“(Y/N), you know it’s Officer Callahan and Officer Powell,” the voice droned. “Billy, take your girl home please?”

You snorted before you lifted off Billy and crawled back into the backseat. Billy held up his hand to block your backside when you skirt rode up as you got into the back and forced a smile as he shook his head, glancing over to the two cops. “You all have a great night,” Billy said as you giggled in the back. The light clicked off and they pulled away, letting Billy pull back out. “You do realize you just let two cops see your ass, right?” Billy said, glancing at you in the rearview mirror again. 

“Maybe we could have Phil join us? Little threesome?” Billy glanced back upon hearing your words only to see you with a teasing face and smiled, looking away from you. 

“No. Phil isn’t joining us,” Billy said. “Are your parents at home?” 

Billy looked back to see you nod mindlessly. You had tipped your head back and your hand slipped between your legs before you let out a soft sigh. “Hey, wait for me!” He said before nudging your foot that was on his armrest. “Where can we go?”

You climbed back up into the passenger seat and looked around a little with a sigh. “Is your dad home?” Billy nodded and you nibbled at your lip. “Just find somewhere to park,” you suggested before you crawled over him a little. 

“What are you doing?” Billy asked before he felt you undo his belt and messily unbutton his pants and pull down the zip. “Are you seriously going to-? Okay, yep,” Billy breathed when your burning mouth found its place on his dick. “Shit,” he hissed before he let one hand fall from the steering wheel to rest on the back of your head. He felt you gag on him a bit and held your mouth down on him for a moment, letting his eyes slip shut and a moan slip from his lips. 

Billy had all he could do to keep his eyes on the road and his hand on the wheel. He wanted to grab your head in his hands and guide you over his dick. You were doing a good enough job of making him come undone but he wanted to make you pay for your attitude at the party. He gripped your hair tight in his fist and lifted you from his dick. He bit his lip as he saw your face come up, your eyes blown with lust and you mouth still parted. He looked at your lips all slick with spit and felt himself pulse against his own stomach. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed before he pulled your mouth to his and kissed you hard. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” you said and pulled back, making Billy frown at you. “You better watch the road,” you whispered as you leaned over, placing your mouth beside his ear. “Keep driving,” you whispered before you straddled him and slid your skirt up to your waist. 

“Baby,” Billy said with almost a warning tone but you continued sliding down onto his dick with a sigh. Billy’s own head tipped back before he breathed out with a throaty moan. “Fuck,” he ripped out from his throat. He heard gravel under his tires and opened his eyes again, getting his car back on the road. 

“You’re being so fucking, bad,” Billy mumbled against your neck as you started grinding on him. He brought one hand down from the wheel to rest on your ass, gripping it firmly in his hand before he slapped it roughly. 

You moaned at his hand on you and started bouncing a little harder. “You’re dick feels so fucking good,” you hissed and mouthed at his neck. You had wanted Billy all day and finally having him inside of you was driving you to the edge quickly. 

Billy found his eyes on the road but his mind somewhere completely different. He groaned when you started hitting the perfect rhythm and panted a little with his head rested back on his headrest. “That’s it, baby,” he hissed and honestly couldn’t believe what was happening. You had always been wild but this had been your craziest move yet. Billy found a little smirk on his face as he thought about it and placed a sloppy kiss on the side of your head as your face was still buried in his neck. 

“I’m so fucking close,” you whined and your voice was high and breathy and it left Billy’s head light. “Are you close, baby?” You asked before pulling back and looking into his eyes, your hips still rolling and bouncing at the perfect pace. 

Billy looked into your eyes for a moment before he moved his free hand to the back of your head and pulled you into a heated, messy kiss. You moaned against Billy’s needy mouth and when he pulled back you went right back to the perfect motion. You heard Billy’s car revving and picking up speed as you neared your high. The sound of his car, the smell of him and the moans spilling from his mouth made your whole body tense. 

You felt Billy’s hand on your lower back, moving with the motion of your rolling hips. “You’re so fucking hot,” Billy grit out before you felt him press up into you a bit, his car revving up with each buck of his hips. Billy realized you didn’t notice or you didn’t care. You were wrapped up in your orgasm that hit you suddenly and Billy watched you beautifully arch and whine his name, pushing him beyond his own point. “Fuck!” He grunted hard and his mouth fell open in a silent moan as he rolled his hips up into you, easing through the rest of his peak. 

Billy panted for a moment as you were collapsed against him, your head rested on his shoulder and your hot breath hitting the side of his neck. He kept his hand on your lower back, holding you against him for a moment. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned over and placed a kiss against your hair. He breathed out heavily through his nose and slowly rested his foot on the break, bringing down his speed. 

“You’re fucking nuts,” he told you after a moment as you lifted your head with a content smile on your features. 

You hummed an agreeing sound before carefully easing off Billy and getting into the passenger seat. You gently cleaned off his dick with your mouth before fixing him in his pants. He glanced over to see you crawling into the backseat again. You laid lazily over the seat and Billy felt cold suddenly without your body close to him. It was only a second later that he felt your hand sneak up beside his seat and rest against his side. He smiled a little before bringing his hand up to rest on yours. 

“I guess you have to go home?” You said hazily after a few minutes, seeing that Billy was heading back towards town. 

“Yeah, my dad told me he wanted me back tonight,” Billy said with a sigh. He frowned and glanced into the rearview, hoping you wouldn’t look mad. Your expression only made him feel worse though as he saw the disappointment in your eyes. “But I can come pick you up in the morning? Go get some breakfast or something?” Billy tried. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly before you dug around in the back, finding your shoes. Billy felt a tightness in his chest as you still seemed disappointed. Your happy personality had diminished and you just seemed down. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said after a moment, making you look up. He saw you glance to the side of his face and your expression softened a little. 

“I’m not mad at you, babe,” you told him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his seat. “I’ll just miss you tonight when I fall asleep,” you explained, making a small smile come to Billy’s face. “All alone,” you breathed against his ear. “Naked,” you added, making one of Billy’s eyebrows quirk up. “Horny,” you whispered and couldn’t help the grin on your face when Billy cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

“You’re not very fair to me,” he tried as he glanced a little to the side, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“You know I get an attitude when I don’t get to fall asleep with you,” you said with a small smile. 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Billy asked as he checked the street before pulling onto your road. 

“Because then I don’t get to fall asleep on your chest. Where I can feel all warm because you’re basically a furnace. Where you wrap your arm around my waist and kiss my forehead right before you fall asleep. Then you mumble your sleepy, ‘Sweet dreams, baby’ and I remember Billy Hargrove is the only man who can give me butterflies,” you whispered. 

Billy had parked in front of your house and sat staring forward for a moment before turning in his seat to look at you. “You really think about all that?” He asked sincerely and you nodded, making a sweet smile appear on his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“Especially if we keep fucking in your car like tonight,” you said before giggling and he shook his head at you with a smile. You leaned back and set the passenger seat forward before opening the door. “Goodnight, Billy,” you said with this cute little smile that left Billy gazing at you. You leaned over and kissed him once more, breaking his daze. 

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he said when you had closed the passenger side door and pressed the seat back, looking through the rolled down, window at him. 

“Tell Neil I said, ‘Hey,’” you joked and he rolled his eyes at you. You swayed your way up your driveway until you got to the door. Billy watched you bend over to get the spare key under you doormat, flashing your backside to him. Billy smirked at you when you turned around and winked at him before going in. 

Billy sighed quietly with a small smile on his lips as he turned back in his seat. “I’m gonna marry that damn girl.” He shifted his Camaro and took off down the road, revving the engine just loud enough for you to hear it. 

__ __ 

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[patriciasage]

the tune of coffee

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairings: Joyce Byers / Jim “Chief” Hopper / Bob Newby

Summary: 

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well.

[posted in full under the break, or you could read on AO3]

Hopper fights through quicksand into consciousness. His thoughts are sluggish, and his mouth is dry. Slowly, he becomes aware of his body. There’s sun warming the back of his head and the sheets are soft. Not his place. He hears soft snoring behind him. Not alone.

The first sight that greets his eyes is Darth Vader. A Star Wars poster hangs above the dresser. There’s a ‘fun fact’ daily calendar on the bedside table. There’s faint clattering in the kitchen and a low voice humming. He knows where he is.

Hopper is grateful for his police training when he does not immediately leap out of the bed and wake the person sleeping behind him. Instead, he lays still and tries to think of an escape route.

His bleary headache flares as he slowly rolls over to face the ceiling. His arm touches the other person’s back. Joyce doesn’t stir. Hopper can’t help but smile a little as she continues to snore quietly. Her dark hair rests on the white pillowcase like ink.

Moving under the sheets makes Hopper acutely aware of his nakedness. Joyce seems to have put on pajamas before sleeping, but he had not. He rubs his free hand over his eyes as hazy memories of last night arrive. He chuckles quietly and then looks for his pants.

He expects them to be crumpled on the floor but instead he sees his clothes folded on a stool across the room, his hat perched on top. He carefully sits up.

Joyce wakes at the movement with a little snort. She mumbles a question and turns to face him at the same time that the bedroom door opens.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake,” Bob says. He enters the room with a radiant smile, holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.

Joyce pushes herself up to rest against the headboard while Hopper remains frozen. She reaches out for the coffee with an insistent groan. “How are you so –” She gestures to Bob’s general state. Bob chuckles.

“I didn’t have nearly as much as you two wild things. I get dizzy after a few drinks.”

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well. The press of his lips sends flashes of memories behind his eyes of Bob’s soft body beneath him and Joyce’s breath in his ear. His skin feels cold when Bob removes his hand from Hopper’s bare chest.

“I made pancakes, come and get ‘em!” he says jovially and leaves the door open when he exits the room.

Joyce offers her coffee mug and Hopper automatically touches them together in a toast. She follows her boyfriend out into the kitchen. Music from the radio travels down the hallway and Hopper assumes they’re dancing from the way they laugh.  

Breakfast isn’t awkward, to Hopper’s surprise. He leaves the Byers-Newby house with his stomach full of food and his head full of thoughts.

*****

The next time they hook up, they’re much more sober.

The kids are out, sleeping over in a tent in the Wheeler’s backyard. Hopper is flipping through channels trying to find a movie to watch. He considers some of El’s favourite programs, but it wouldn’t feel right to watch without her.  Hopper is no longer used to being alone. He tries not to consider how it will feel when she grows up and moves out.

His phone rings.

“Can we come over?” Joyce asks.

He doesn’t think before answering. “Sure.”

Hopper doesn’t have wine at his place, so he offers Joyce and Bob a beer. They get through about half of their drinks, chatting about the kids and town gossip. Then Joyce climbs into his lap and Bob walks around the couch to rub his shoulders.

This time is infinitely better without whisky coursing through his system. They’re more precise, better at communicating, more responsive. Hopper has slept with women and men in the past, but never both at once. And never with people who somehow manage to make him laugh during sex without ruining the mood. It’s exhilarating and satiating in a way he’s never experienced. It feels right.

*****

They begin to go on dates, but it takes Hopper a while to realize this.

The three of them would often spend time together as friends and as parents of kids who are pretty much inseparable. But since they’ve started sleeping together it’s been different. Joyce sneaks fries from his plate and Bob puts his hand on Hopper’s thigh when he tells him stories.

Often, Joyce and Bob invite him back to their house afterward. Sometimes they mess around. Other times, Joyce and Hopper agree to let Bob kick their asses at his brain teaser games and Hopper leaves with a kiss for each of them.

Any time he thinks to define it, he pushes the thought away. It doesn’t matter. They’re adults. They’re having fun.

*****

Everything falls apart when Mike Wheeler sees something he shouldn’t have seen.

“Cheating!” El says forcefully, slamming the front door. Hopper looks up from the stove.

“What now?”

She stomps up to him, brow furrowed. “You are cheating.”

The hamburgers are done frying. He takes them off the burner. “It’s kind of hard to cheat at scrabble, kid, and you kicked my ass, anyway –”

“No, not games cheating. Relationship cheating. Mike told me.”

Hopper sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He had not expected to have this conversation with his daughter today. “You can’t cheat if you’re not in a relationship. And why does Mike have somethin’ to say about me, anyway?”

“He saw you kissing Mrs. Byers!”

Hopper’s hands still in the middle of putting hamburger patties into buns. He takes a breath. “I don’t know what Mike thought he saw – hey!” El pokes his arm forcefully. He doesn’t need her to speak to know what she’s going to say. He sees it in her eyes. Friends don’t lie.

“Look, kid. It’s complicated. Adult stuff.” Her mouth tightens and he puts up a hand. “Which I will explain to you in the amount of detail you need to know. Just not now, alright? Can we eat first?”

She looks over at the hamburgers, then nods. They have their meal in silence.

El finishes eating before him. She pushes her plate away and stares expectantly. Hopper rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth, chewing. “Okay. So what, exactly, did Mike tell you about…cheating?”

“When a person is in a romantic relationship with someone and then kisses someone else.”

“I mean, sure, that’s usually the gist of it. But he’s missing a key detail. Cheating is a secret that those people keep from the other person.”

She shrugs. “Okay. It’s secret. And it’s bad.”

“You’re right. But.” He sighs. “Listen, me kissing Joyce is not cheating because it’s not a secret to Bob. He is okay with it. So, it’s not bad.”

El looks confused. Hopper wishes this conversation wasn’t happening. “Adult relationships are complicated –” He’s saved by the telephone ringing. He gets up from the table gratefully.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Hop. It’s Joyce.”

“Hey.”

“So…Will told me that Mike saw us kiss.”

Hopper rolls his eyes. Great, all of the kids know.

“Yeah, I’ve got a similar situation happenin’ over here.”

“I- Look, can we meet up tonight and talk? The three of us?”

Hopper glances over at El, who looks like she’s trying to solve a very difficult math problem. “Yeah. Let’s clear things up before I confuse my daughter any more than I already have.”

*****

Hopper is talking before he sits down on the porch steps. “Alright, so, we tell them that it was a mistake. Maybe that you just wanted to see what it was like to kiss me and Bob gave you permission. One kiss. That’s it. A mistake. I know it’s still a little unconventional, but –”

Bob interrupts him. “But it’s not a mistake.”

“What?” Hopper looks over at the two of them. Their expressions are illuminated by the porch light, Joyce nervous and Bob resolute. “I mean, of course it wasn’t a mistake. It was fun. But that’s probably our best explanation.”

Joyce takes Bob’s hand and offers, “What if we tell them the truth?”

“The truth?”

“That we’re dating.”

“We are?”

There’s nothing but hope emanating from Joyce and Bob. Hopper feels something warm in his chest at the thought. His brain tries to push it down. It fails.

“Fuck,” Hopper says, “This is going to be front page news.”

*****

Hawkins already thought that they were a little strange. You can’t go through multiple alien attacks without appearing a little suspicious. Seeing the three of them publicly dating is prime gossip for a few months, but eventually it gets boring to most people. It’s just Joyce Byers, Bob Newby, and Jim Hopper spending a lot of time together. It takes Hopper’s coworkers much longer to stop teasing him.

The kids eventually get used to it, too. El and Will begin to act like siblings. Jonathan overcomes his embarrassment when he realizes how happy his mom is.

They’ve always been a bit of an unconventional family.