#power would be probably a pretty decent showing. and then shoo everyone away from the tower and encourage them to find their freedom

[iamthescalesofjustice]

do not have the focus rn to write the whole post in a satisfying way, but know that if i was in dragon age they would try to put me in a circle and make me tranquil, bc of my Symptoms and Behaviors. but that making me tranquil would not work out the way they want, bc 

1) it wouldnt even do that much about my symptoms and behaviors, bc many of them have little to nothing to do with emotions

1b) it wouldnt even severely impede me, bc i have decades of experience functioning through extreme depressive episodes, dissociative states, executive functioning problems, etc and i have been in extremely bad and toxic and punishing environments without chance of escape before and if it didnt make me compromise my principles then, neither would the tower

1c) if anything, and i am speaking from experience with my own altered states here, being unable to feel shame or fear or sorrow, would consequently dramatically reduce my capacity for things like hesitation and doubt, which are fueled partially by emotions but which are not quite emotions themselves. this would actually reduce my impulse control a lot, with only stuff like the fact that anger and annoyance and restlessness and excitement and giddiness and bloodlust not being there either to help balance it out. 

2) the fact that ‘everyone knows’ the tranquil are ‘incapable of using magic’ and ‘basically just soulless automatons’ would be possibly the most effective shield ever. their own brainrot from their own ingrained propaganda would make them blind to my schemes

2b) see the fact that people commonly think the tranquil cannot feel pain despite being outright told, by tranquil, that they can

2c) or the fact that mages can be made tranquil for using, or being suspected of  using, blood magic. obviously some of these mages get killed rather than made tranquil, but mages can and do get killed over anything and everything regardless of the reason. if it was commonly realized that tranquil mages can use blood magic, it wouldnt be used in these cases and they would all be killed instead. 

2cii) yes, tranquil mages can use blood magic. this should be obvious to anyone who thinks about it for a second, but apparently its not. 

2ciib) tranquil can also use runes btw. obviously. if those needed a connection to the fade to use then dwarves would not have invented them or be able to use them. 

2ciic) i also think dwarves could probably use blood magic if they had the chance to learn. possibly there is a subsection of the dwarven population that would be equivalent to mages, and they could do it but not the others, but nobody knows exactly because this kind of stuff just isnt being explored yet. 

2ciid) i also think that across all species ability to use magic is more of a spectrum than a solid yes/no and there probably a lot of people whose capacity for magic falls below the flashier threshold of what most of southern thedas seems to think of as ‘mage’ or manifests in a different way. this includes the people who get approved to become templars because there apparently is some kind of innate trait they look for in the people they are willing to train to use templar abilities, which are definitely a form of magic. 

2d) aside from the sheer stigma, the biggest practical downside of blood magic is that it can dampen the casters connection to the fade, making their ability to use the normal sort of magic weaker or less reliable. for someone whose connection to the fade is already shut down, this is a nonissue. 

2dii) the second biggest issue with blood magic is the need to draw on a source, typically either the caster themself or other living beings. personally, i dont think theres any real ethical problem with using yourself for blood magic, and the problem of using others is far less pressing when you have, say, a bunch of templars around to drain instead. 

3) they literally have books you can learn blood magic from without ever needing to talk to a denizen of the fade. the tower top brass put those books in their own fucking library. as a plant to get unwary mages. 

3b) i am excellent at learning from books. 

3c) if pressed about why i am reading a book about blood magic, i can answer that theres no reason for me not to. now that i ‘cant use magic’, theres no danger in me learning the theory. knowledge is valuable for its own sake. 

3cii) this has the benefit of being mostly true, even. and not feeling smugness or excitement or anger means i would be more easily able to say things with a straight face and not have roiling emotions give me away. 

4) if i were a tranquil who could do blood magic and i saw a templar menacing a mage in an otherwise-empty corner of a tower i would puppet that asshole over to the stairs and make them trip themself down it so their death looked like an accident

4b) and then when the mage looked at me like something other than a piece of creepy walking furniture for the first time in maybe years i would simply say “youre welcome. also, neither of us were here, and no one will ever believe you” and calmly walk away

[mercy-burning]

A Fire I Can’t Put Out (Songbird Chapter 2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: One week later, a chance encounter leads Reader and Spencer to each other once again. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (exhibitionism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex - male and female receiving, multiple orgasms), Language Word Count: 10k (I got really carried away lol)

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each chapter)

NOTE: Alas! Our first inkling of fluff! While this chapter is very spicy (you get 2 smut scenes 😉), there’s also a very cute, fluffy moment at the piano that I hope you all enjoy! (Just thinking about it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside...) See you on Valentine’s Day for Chapter 3! 🥰

(Also, everyone should listen to the song I added to the end, it’s BEAUTIFUL and I changed the song/title of the chapter to match it last minute, because I just discovered it and it was too perfect not to use lol)

***

The note felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. It may have one time been a crumpled receipt, but now it was a searing reminder of the one time in my life that I'd broken my own rule and allowed a man to stay. It hummed ferociously, screaming at me to do everything in my power to find him again and finally learn his name at the very least.

Because that was the thing that bugged me the most. I thought that by refusing to learn his name that night, I would save myself the potential attachment, but it turns out all that did was make me even more attached to him.

I tried to convince myself over and over that it was just because he fucked me so good I thought I hurdled through space and time, and not because he was incredibly gorgeous, respectful, and pretty much downright perfect. Maybe it was all of those things rolled into one perfect, blissful night that was meant to be just that—a one-night stand. The one-night stand, if you will.

But no matter what I tried to tell myself, my thoughts always drifted back to him. S...

What could his name be? Steven? Sam? Scott? Sonny? Saxon?

I didn't want to think about it anymore. Maybe his name didn't even start with S... Maybe he meant it to mean Stranger. That was possible, right?

That was probably it. That had to be it, otherwise I was going to lose my mind trying to figure it out when there was a high chance I was never even going to see him again.

My fingers drifted over the piano keys and tried to play anything, anything from memory, anything from scratch? God, just play something... And when I finally did feel my fingers press down into the keys, I didn't register what the song was until I was singing the words.

"Say you'll remember me..."

"No!" I slammed my hands on the keys and then leaned forward on my elbows, resting my head in my hands as the loud array of notes faded into the bright, morning air. I took a deep breath and started to laugh to myself. "What the hell, Y/N..."

He wanted to be remembered, right? He wanted me to remember him. And by leaving the first letter of his name—and a note in the first place—that surely meant that he hoped I'd see him again, right? Or that I'd try to find him? Maybe that was his subtle way of telling me he'd be at the bar for the next open mic night, just in case I decided to show up again.

Or, maybe he was just being a decent human being, Y/N, you know shit like that doesn't happen in real life. Don't fucking fall for it.

I sighed and hit random keys on the piano again before getting up and deciding to take a drive.

When even music didn't take my mind off anything—which was almost never—driving always seemed to do the trick. Sure, there was usually more room for thinking when it came to driving, but for me, it was almost panic-inducing if I wasn't giving the road my full, undivided attention. It's not that I was bad at driving, but I certainly wasn't great at paying attention unless I was fully committed. Since I didn't want to seriously injure myself or die in a car wreck, I found that the best option to get my mind off of anything that was troubling me was to just drive.

It hadn't failed me yet, but maybe this would be the thing that finally sent me flying off a bridge and into a river.

I promptly decided not to think about that.

While I was going out I figured I'd stop by the coffee shop on my way out of town, that way I'd at least have a nice iced coffee to indulge in while I just wandered around. I made sure my driving playlist was downloaded to my phone before also grabbing my bag and keys, and then leaving the apartment.

***

"Hi, I'll take a large vanilla iced coffee, please."

"Will that be all?"

I smiled at the barista, whose nametag read Reyna. "Yes."

"Okay, your total is $3.50."

After handing her a five-dollar bill and putting the change in the tip jar, I stood on the other side of the counter to wait for my order and scrolled through my phone as the next person came up and ordered. It didn't take long, which I was more or less thankful for, but when I turned around, I ran right into someone's back and almost dropped my coffee.

"Whoa! I'm so sorry!"

I instinctively looked down to make sure I didn't spill anything, or that the person I ran into didn't spill anything, and when I finally looked up to apologize to their face, I froze and almost dropped my coffee anyway.

There was no fucking way.

"Hey, Stranger," he said almost nervously, his cheeks flushed.

I wasn't sure when I actually answered, but it seemed like forever because I was just so shocked that I actually fucking saw him again. I truly didn't think in a million years I would live in a moment like this, but there I was, taking in this man in all his beautiful glory.

He was more dressed up than the last time I saw him, maybe for work, or maybe that's just how he dressed sometimes. Whatever the case, I didn't give a shit because it was hot as hell. The color of his corduroy jacket was the same as his eyes, which now that I could see him in better lighting were lighter than I remembered. Under it was a white dress shirt and some type of olive green vest. His hair was still messy and downright tug-able, light curls framing parts of his face. Which was currently in the process of taking me in as well.

I smiled at him, though I wasn't sure if it was coming off as too excited, revealing myself to him, or if it was underwhelming. Or maybe it was just right?

Oh, who cares, Y/N, just fucking say something back!

"Hey, yourself. I... can't believe I ran into you again."

My stomach flipped at the way he smiled back at me, like he was almost nervous to be in my presence. Like I would have shooed him away rather than acknowledge him. He was fucking nervous and I found it incredibly endearing. It was such a contrast to... that night. Once he gained confidence, he was really something... But even now he still was really something, just in a different way, as he visibly tried to find the right words to say.

Finally, he settled on, "Yeah, I... I didn't think I'd see you again. It's... a nice surprise."

Understatement of the century, I thought as I waited for him to speak again. His voice was so... I didn't know how to describe it, other than to say it was so fitting for him, and therefore it was perfect.

Was that weird? Was I being weird?

"Do, um... Do you want to sit down?" I offered, gesturing to the tables on the other side of the café.

"Oh, I don't want to keep you if you're busy, I—"

"Nah, I had nothing going on today, trust me." I gave him a wink as we started making our way to the sitting area. "Besides, Stranger, if we're gonna keep meeting like this, I'm gonna need to at least know your name, don't you think?"

He laughed a little before shrugging, waiting until we sat down across from each other to respond. "I don't know, I... I think I like hearing you call me Stranger. It has a nice ring to it."

We both took a sip from our drinks, our eyes never losing their contact. By the way his face turned even redder, I would have thought he'd look away first, but he didn't. I had to wonder if he didn't look away because he didn't want to, or if he couldn't. Either way, I liked it.

"So, Stranger, tell me..." I said, setting my drink down and folding my hands over the table. "You been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you lately?"

I could tell he hadn't been expecting that question, because for a second it looked like he was choking on his drink. He coughed before setting it down, though his hand never left the cup. "I— Y—you've been thinking about me?"

Suddenly remembering the note in my pocket, I scrambled to get it out. And as he looked at me, still shocked but a little puzzled now, too, I started to wonder if maybe it was a stupid idea. But there was no stopping it, now, because that would have been even more puzzling, not to mention embarrassing on my part.

I un-crumpled the note and held it in my hands, outward so he could see his handwriting. "I've been staring at this thing and carrying it around with me everywhere in my pocket for the past week, dude."

It looked like he was trying to hide a smile, and failing miserably at it. "So... Leaving the note was a good idea, then, huh?"

I smiled, though trying to hide it wasn't even an option. "Well, it certainly got me thinking about putting a name to the face... and the body... But in all honesty I think I would have been thinking about you regardless."

He studied me for a moment, and an unfamiliar feeling in my stomach just about sucker-punched me at the way he did it, his face softening and just getting lost in thought. Or me, though I didn't want to flatter myself. Even still, the thought of him being completely lost in my presence, in my just being here, discussing our brief past, was enough to tighten the knot in my stomach.

I couldn't tell if I liked that feeling or not.

Because while my body certainly seemed to like this uncharted territory, something tugged at the pant leg of my brain like a small child, looking up at me and saying with sad eyes that they wanted to leave and go home, back to the comfort and safety of what they already knew. And who was I to deny that?

But at the same time, I couldn't for the life of me let this man go. I wanted, ached to know more about him.

I was intoxicated, and it scared the ever-loving fuck out of me.

"Can I tell you my name?" His voice almost made me jump.

I considered it for a moment, before ultimately deciding that it would be a good small step to take. "Yes."

"Will you tell me your name?"

"Maybe."

We both smiled at each other for a few seconds before an idea came to my mind. He was about to tell me his name right then I think, but I held up my hand and leaned forward, tilting my chin up a little. "You know what... Before you tell me, I wanna know something... Have you ever fucked anyone in a public restroom?"

If he'd had any coffee in his mouth, it surely would have been all over the place right then. Instantly his eyes widened and he looked around the room as his cheeks flushed redder than I'd ever seen them. "What are you doing?" he gushed out really fast, almost refusing to look me in the eye.

"Giving you a deal. No one uses the restrooms here because people are always rushing in and out to grab coffee, or there's hardly anyone here to use them anyway. Bottom line is: we can easily be inconspicuous. So here's what I'm offering."

"This isn't a good idea—"

"You don't have to agree, obviously, but hear me out."

I waited for further resistance, but he just blinked at me, and I took that as my cue. "I'm gonna get up and walk to the women's room. You'll follow me after about a minute, and if you can make me cum twice then we can exchange names and numbers."

"We... We can do that without the exhibitionism, though, you know that, right?" He spoke as if anyone would be able to hear him if he wasn't quiet enough.

"Of course. But... I really haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and judging by the way you're shifting in your seat I can tell you're strongly considering taking me up on my offer. Because you haven't been able to stop thinking about me, either. And you really want to fuck me again, probably almost as much as I want to fuck you again. So what do you say?"

He still didn't speak, only stared at me, which left me to wonder what he was thinking. If anything, he almost looked a little petrified, so last minute I decided to take a little pity on him.

"Okay, new plan. I'm still going to go into the bathroom and wait a minute for you, two tops. I am gonna give you this, though..." I grabbed a napkin, a pen from my bag, and wrote my number down on it before sliding it to his side of the table. "I'll wait for you. If you don't want to go through with this, you can leave. But then you're gonna call me later, and we'll set a date to meet up if you want. How's that sound?"

I think he was completely overwhelmed by my ultimatum, because he still didn't say anything. Though this time he seemed... awed. Not necessarily as embarrassed as he was before, but more enchanted with the idea of what I was offering, the way I presented everything to him.

Figuring that was a good sign, I winked at him and made it a point to walk to the bathroom as seductively as I could without being too obvious.

Though, the further I got, and the longer I waited in the bathroom, the more I wondered if he'd already left the café. And then it started to dawn on me that I might have acted like an asshole, giving ultimatums to a man who was just trying to tell me his name. Why couldn't I have just let him tell me? We were right there, and I had to go ahead and turn it into a fucking game... And for what? So I could get laid? The thing is, I was so sure he liked me enough that after he told me his name we probably could have gone somewhere private and—

The door opened, and I was about to yell at whoever it was that someone was in the room already, but then I saw his face and felt myself relax.

"Hey, I'm... I'm sorry if I pressured you into doing this," I said sincerely, as he locked the door behind him. "We really don't have to if you don't want, I was... I was just trying to... I don't know, be mysterious or something? Which, I guess I can be, but I promise I'm not usually like this, and—"

"Hey, it's alright. I promise. Now... I don't mean to change the subject so quickly, but I do believe I owe you two orgasms. And I don't want us to get caught, so I'd like to get to it if you don't mind."

Holy fucking shit..

"You really know how to get a girl to shut up, Stranger," I said, grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him to me. I looked up into his eyes and smirked, walking us backwards until I hit the counter, just beside the sink. "How fast do you think you can get me there?"

A small smirk twitched at his lips before he surprisingly lifted me up and promptly sat me on the counter. "Depends... You gonna keep talking or are you going to let me do my job?"

The low tone in his voice was unlike anything I'd heard from him thus far, and it lit this fire in me that I didn't know I had. With a small, involuntary moan, I spread my legs wide and let him stand between them. He pulled me in for a long, hot kiss before dropping to the ground and wiggling me out of my pants. He ended up taking off my shoes, too, so he could slip my pants and underwear off my body completely. No sooner than they hit the floor did he get to work, his hands coming up to spread my legs once again, propping my heels up on his shoulders.

Unfortunately I couldn't keep myself from moaning out as he worked my pussy with his mouth, each long, wet drag of his tongue adding fuel to the fire he'd already kindled within me. I tried to bite my fist, hoping it would muffle some of the sounds, but it wasn't working.

I was thinking about calling the whole thing off and going somewhere we wouldn't get in trouble, when he seemed to have another idea.

Before I knew what was happening, my panties were shoved in my mouth, and my eyes were rolling to the back of my head as he slipped a finger inside of me with ease. In no time I felt my orgasm creeping up on me, every pump of his fingers and every quick, meticulous flick of his tongue on my clit getting faster and faster with each passing second. I shrieked into the ball of fabric as quietly as I could manage as I started to fall, clenching and shaking around him in record time.

Once I relaxed, he pulled himself away from me and stood up, licking his fingers clean and working at his belt as I stared at him with pleading eyes. I wanted to take the panties out of my mouth, but I knew that if I did I probably wouldn't be able to keep quiet. And the fact that he'd put them there in the first place, after so clearly being flustered at my suggestion to go have a quick fuck in a public restroom, completely turned me on and made me want him even more.

I did manage a pretty decent moan when he finally came forward and lined himself up with my waiting pussy. He smiled a little before leaning forward, never entering me but running his dick over it, coating himself with my arousal. He leaned his head in and brushed my hair from my neck before kissing it, and even softly biting me. If it was going to leave bruises, I didn't care. I welcomed every kiss, every lick and bite, and every slow, excruciating drag of his cock along my pussy.

He slid the tip of himself into me for a second before pulling out and moving my face with his hand, gripping my jaw and making me look at him. I whimpered at the loss of contact where I was clenching around nothing, patiently waiting for him, and also at the gain of our eye contact. I genuinely had no idea what he was going to do next, but I hoped it involved some semblance of a repeat of last time.

But once again, he surprised me, leaning forward and bringing his mouth to mine, ripping the panties from my mouth using his own. He leaned back, the pale blue fabric hanging from his teeth, and the sight drove me absolutely wild. It didn't help that he kept them in his mouth as he slapped my clit with his dick, and it took everything I had not to moan obscenely. He could tell, too, because he brought a hand to cover my mouth right as he pushed into me and held himself there.

He tossed his head to the side and dropped my panties on the ground, then ran his hands along the insides of my legs and rested them on my thighs. "I'll keep going as long as you keep quiet."

"You probably should have kept the panties in my mouth, then," I breathed, clenching myself around him and feeling him grip my skin tighter.

"Guess you'll just have to try and be quiet like a good girl, then, won't you?"

The whimper that escaped me was utterly pathetic. And I loved it.

Needing this to get going now, I reached forward and grabbed his hips, urging him to start moving, and thankfully he did. It was slow at first as we both just savored the feeling of being together like this again.

But in a matter of seconds all pleasantries were thrown out the window, and he slid his hands up to grip my waist as he pounded into me as quietly as he could. To ensure the skin-on-skin slapping wasn't too loud, he kept his thrusts short and staccato, but incredibly deep, setting my insides on fire and making me clutch onto the back of his ass for dear life. I tried so hard not to yell out that I was pretty sure my nails broke through his skin. He hissed out sharply, confirming that I was hurting him, so I let him go and opted to for gripping his shirt instead. I drew him closer, that way I could kiss him and feel all of him at once.

I might have also needed to find some way to keep myself quiet.

I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me back, every swipe of his tongue somehow managing to perfectly find a rhythm in tandem with his thrusts, despite how rushed and sloppy we were being.

It wasn't long before I felt myself start to fall apart, my hands clutching onto his jacket for dear life as my stomach started to knot. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," I murmured into his mouth, and he pulled away to kiss my neck.

My arms wrapped around him and pulled him as close to me as room would allow, right as my eyes squeezed shut and I saw stars, my second orgasm quick and intense. I mumbled little 'uh-huh's into his mouth as he fucked me through it, and when I was done, he pulled out, leaving me dazed but also confused.

It looked like it pained him to pull his pants up and tuck his still-hard dick away, so I reached out. "Why didn't you finish? We're in a bathroom, I can clean up just fine..."

"My orgasm wasn't part of the deal," he stated simply, straightening his clothes and trying to get comfortable.

"So, what, you're just going to walk around town with a boner?"

"No. It'll go away soon, I'll be fine." Once his clothes were all the way on, he reached into his jacket pocket, handed me a slip of paper—a business card it looked like—and kissed me quickly one more time. "Besides, the next time I cum inside you, I'd like to hear you saying my name."

And then he walked out of the bathroom without another word, grabbing my panties and shoving them in his jacket pocket as an afterthought before he disappeared.

I don't think I moved for a good minute or two before I finally looked down at the card and read his note. He must have written it down before he came in here.

Y/N, I heard them call your name at open mic night, and that's when I knew. I'm free tomorrow night. I hope you'll call. —Stranger

I turned the card over and saw his number, followed by his name.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

The second I got home, I ran to the bathroom and fixed my... problem... I wanted so badly back in the café to finish what I started, but I'd meant what I told her. I'd sighed her name out as I touched myself the few times since I'd met her, and I could only imagine what it would finally sound like to hear her say my name. I knew she could already tear me apart at her touch, but I wanted desperately to know if my name on her tongue would have the same effect.

I was almost positive it would, but I just needed to know.

It surprisingly didn't take long for me to finish, just the mere thought of her face and the way she looked at me as I shoved her underwear in her mouth enough to take me to the edge. And finally, when I felt them practically bruning a hole in my pocket, I tensed and sighed out her name, cum spilling out over my hand and into the toilet.

The orgasm should have calmed me down, should have relaxed me, but instead, as I cleaned up and changed into different clothes, I wondered if she would actually call me.

First of all, it was a wonder I'd ran into her at all. Truthfully, I didn't think I was ever going to see her again, and when I heard her voice call out an apology for bumping into me, I really thought I was dreaming. And yet, there she was, right in front of me in all her beautiful glory.

So when she offered to sit down with me, I couldn't say no. And when she asked, You been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you lately? ... I was pretty sure I couldn't breathe. I didn't tend to think of myself as the type of guy who would leave that good of an impression, so hearing her of all people say that sent my heart—and stomach—into a mess of flutters.

And though the confidence I had in my ability to flirt with women in any capacity was very slim, I must have done something right. Because when I picked up the phone later that night and heard a low, "Hey, Stranger," through the speaker, I couldn't stop smiling. "Or should I call you Doctor?"

***

"YN... I'm really glad you called."

Hearing him say my name for the first time did something to me I couldn't explain. The way he said it was innocent enough, but it still made me beam with excitement.

I was curled up on my couch, wrapped in a robe after my shower and having been contemplating whether or not to call all afternoon.

I didn't want to wait too long in case he ended up making other plans or something, but I was also apprehensive. Because as much as I wanted to keep seeing Spencer, I wasn't sure I could handle breaking his heart. That's what always happened, didn't it? I started seeing someone, things would be great for the first few months, and then as they fell more in love with me I fell more out of love with them. But even then I wasn't sure I could call it that, because I never fell in love with them in the first place. Not even gotten close to it.

Would... Spencer be different? It was hard to tell. He'd already made me feel things I'd never felt before, so maybe this time would be different.

Or maybe that would just make it hurt even more when I inevitably pushed him away.

But I didn't want to think about that. All I knew in the moment was that he intrigued me, and for the first time in my life I actually wanted to to be near him almost every second of the day. Even when I wasn't thinking about him, my body was buzzing with the aftermath of him. His entire being was so magnetic that I couldn't help but be drawn to him. Even if, ultimately, I knew it would end with one or both of us in shambles, I wanted it. I wanted him more than anything, to be with him, to see him smile, to hear him talk...

That little kid that was tugging on my pant leg earlier, warning me that it was time to go home, was screaming now. Scared for its life and begging for me to turn back.

And for some reason, against my better judgement, I ignored it.

"You really knew my name the whole time and didn't tell me?"

From the pause on the other end of the line, I could tell he must have been nervous. I could see him in my head, looking down at his twitching hands as he tried to find some explanation. "Um... Well, you said you didn't want to know names, so I... thought I'd keep quiet. I hope you're not mad about that..."

I smiled. "No, I'm not mad. It was nice of you." I paused a beat before changing the subject. "So, uh... Tomorrow night..."

"Oh... Yeah, I travel quite a bit for work, and I don't get many days off, but tomorrow night is the only time I'm free for a while. So I guess it was a good thing I ran into you when I did."

"Hmm... I guess you're right. In that case, I should probably take it easy on you. Wouldn't want to wear you out or anything."

He laughed a little, and warmth bloomed in my chest at the sound. I imagined seeing him smile, which made it fully blossom. "No need. You... You could wear me out any day."

"Careful what you wish for, Stranger. Time and place?"

"I can be by your place at 6? I'll even bring food if you want."

I paused, suddenly reminded of the screaming child again. This time it was yelling, "It's not safe! Don't let him in, please!"

But God damn it, I wanted to so bad...

"Uh, sure," I finally answered, playing with the hem of my robe anxiously. "You... remember where it is? As I recall, you were pretty nervous the last time you were here, and kind of occupied with... other things."

"Oh, I—I remember everything, pretty much. I know where to go, it's okay."

He didn't elaborate. I kind of wanted him to, but figured the less I knew about him the better. I was invested in him enough already, and knowing more would just plunge me in deeper than I was comfortable with. So, I told him, "Alright. If you need directions or anything though, let me know. Should I be... wearing anything in particular when you get here, Doctor?"

The line was silent, and I could picture that little shocked expression on his face, the one he got every time I said something suggestive that he wasn't expecting. It was cute. "A—Anything you want will be fine..."

I laughed and bit my lip, leaning back into the couch. "Okay... See you later then. Tomorrow night, 6PM."

"Tomorrow night. 6PM. Goodnight, Y/N."

My face felt warm and my stomach fluttered as I curled into myself and smiled into the phone. "Goodnight, Spencer."

What surprised me most about that night was that I didn't hang up right after. I waited. And waited, until he hung up, just in case he said anything else. And I think he was in the same mindset, because we sat in silence for a good fifteen seconds before I finally hung up, shaking my head and wondering if he thought that was weird.

As it turns out, he didn't.

About ten minutes later, as I was getting into bed, I got a text message that read: I hope you know that I always have your song stuck in my head. The one from the bar. I hope you'll sing to me again one day.

I promptly sent back: If you're a good boy for me tomorrow, I just might, and set my phone on my dresser, ignoring the way my heart swelled at his sentiment.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. And when I did finally drift off, my dreams were about Spencer.

***

Usually I was decently confident when it came to my 'date' outfits. I knew what looked good on me, and I knew what made other people go, "Holy shit," under their breath when they saw me, so it should have been easy. And to some degree it was, but with all these weird feelings I was having lately, I was second-guessing myself.

But no matter how badly I second-guessed my decision, I stuck with what I knew best, wearing a thin black long-sleeved shirt with a low neckline and form-fitting jeans that flared at the bottom. A necklace with a silver diamond that matched my belly-button ring sat nicely at my chest, right above my cleavage. I opted to leave my hair down in long, loose curls that curled away from my face, and framed my eyes with simple black eyeliner and mascara, leaving my lips alone with a peppermint chap stick. Remembering how Spencer had complimented and basically worshipped my hands, I accented them with a deep purple nail polish that almost looked black if there wasn't any light shining on them. I put on a few rings that matched my other body jewelry and wore a thin, braided rope bracelet that my sister made me for my thirteenth birthday. Since I didn't think we were going anywhere, I only wore black ankle-length socks, but kept a pair of simple black heeled boots by the door in case we did decide to leave.

As for my... undergarments, I chose a nice black lace set that I only brought out on rare occasions, and I felt like it fit. The material was sheer and lacy, and that was about it. It was simple, but sexy, and that's what I loved about it. And if I knew Spencer's taste as well as I thought I did, I was pretty sure he would love it, too.

And that fact alone was enough to snap me out of my worry.

Kind of. I mean, he was still coming to my apartment, and I was almost certain that he was going to look around and probably ask some questions about things. Which, normally wouldn't be a bad thing, and in a way it really wasn't, but it still made me nervous...

I just hoped that I could keep him occupied enough so that I wouldn't have to deal with it too much.

There was a knock at my door, and I was thankful, finally pulled out of my head and into the world around me. I got up and opened the door with a smile, leaning against it slightly and taking him in.

"Hey, Stranger," I drawled, giving him a wink as I stepped aside to let him in.

But he didn't come in. Not until he was done taking me in, of course. "You... Wow, uh, hi," he stammered, holding out a bag that had to be takeout. "You look great."

As he walked in, I shut the door behind him and looked at his backside before he turned around. "Speak for yourself."

He took off his shoes, which revealed one red striped sock and one purple and blue polkadotted one, which made me smile. He wore simple grey corduroy pants and a purple sweater that matched my nail polish almost perfectly. His hair was just as perfect as it was the last two times I saw him, rightfully messy and curly that made me want to skip dinner all together and get right to dessert.

I even told him as much.

"You're kinda making me want to skip dinner."

"Oh, we... We can eat after if you want to, I don't mind," he offered kindly. It was sweet.

I laughed and walked up to him, bringing my right hand up to run my fingers through his hair. Then I leaned up and kissed him hotly on the lips for a few seconds before pulling away and letting out a low 'hmmm'. "Probably a good idea, but I'm starving."

I turned and started to the kitchen, throwing back over my shoulder, "That okay with you?"

"Y—Yeah, of course."

I turned on the light above the table before pulling out a chair for him with a smile. "I didn't really eat much today, so takeout sounded really good. I hope you didn't have to go too far out of your way to grab it, otherwise I could have made something here."

He sat down and I went to the other side of the kitchen to grab forks and plates. "Oh! No, it was alright, it was on the way over. Plus, I guess I don't really mind the travel, since I already do so much of it."

"Right, you mentioned that," I confirmed, taking a seat across from him. My dining room table was small, since my apartment wasn't that big. Even sitting across from one another, if Spencer and I reached our arms out across the table, we would have been able to reach each other's shoulders.

"Hey, do you want anything to drink?" I asked. "I've got some white whine in the fridge, otherwise I also have water, milk, and I think some Sprite."

"Oh, uh... Water is fine, thank you."

As I got up to get it, he got out the food. "Not a drinker?" I wondered aloud, grabbing glasses and the pitcher of water from the fridge.

"Not really. I'll have one on occasion, but if I'm driving I like to steer clear."

So, he wasn't planning on staying the night, then... Ultimately that was a good thing, but a small part of me admittedly felt disappointed. Regardless, I didn't let it show. "Makes sense. I don't drink a lot either, but I've been known to have a good time occasionally. And I always need white wine in the house, that's a rule of mine."

I didn't see his smile, but I could feel it. Was that weird? Feeling a smile? I'd never been able to tell, never noticed that before, but right then I just knew it was there.

But maybe it was just the way he said, "Fair enough," that made me certain.

Whatever the case, I shook the feeling and made my way back to the table with full glasses of water.

We ate with few words between us, though occasionally Spencer would throw out a random fact about the origins of the food we ate, or we exchanged small stories of both of our inabilities to use chopsticks. It was nice, being able to eat with him and not have to talk about where I was from or what my family was like. I never liked sharing that much of myself with someone that soon, let alone at all, so I was thankful for the ease our conversation carried.

Though, at one point he asked, "So, you're a musician? Is it full-time?" And it stopped me in my tracks a little. I loved music, and I was definitely passionate about it, but again, it was so personal to me that for some reason my brain kept sending me signals to turn around and change the subject.

But it was an innocent question. And I used music to my advantage all the time, it wasn't a secret that I was good at it, so I could give him an answer. And I knew that I didn't have to tell him anything I didn't want to, so I just needed to get my shit together and stop worrying. I had to remind myself that not everyone was going to use the things I tell them to hurt me. Truthfully I don't know why I was so paranoid by that, because it never happened, but I chalked it up to just looking for any excuse to keep myself closed off.

I brushed off all the discomfort and doubt I had, and took a drink of water before answering truthfully. "It's not full-time, but I think I'd like it to be. I definitely love it enough, but whether I could handle the stress of being a full-time musician or not is... well, it has yet to be seen."

"Do you write your own songs?"

"Mhm. Have been since I could talk, really. But whenever I perform it's usually covers that everyone knows. Easier to get them excited, anyway."

Spencer smiled, leaning forward a little. "You know, actually I'd never heard the song you sang at the bar that night... That was a cover?"

"Yeah. You don't listen to the radio?"

"Not really. If it all sounds like that, I may have to start, though I'm pretty sure it's not."

I laughed a little. "You'd be right about that... Still, the radio has its merits. I'm a fan of more independent stuff myself, but I keep up to date with what's new. Kinda have to."

"Why's that?"

I chewed my lip for a moment before answering. "Well, I don't do it full-time since I have a day job, but on the side I've helped with writing and producing other peoples' stuff, and a lot of it is what you hear on the radio, so..."

"Oh, that's really cool," he mused, and his eyes gave away that he genuinely seemed impressed. I almost blushed at the sight. "Y'know, I'm sure if you did decide that you could handle the stress of being a full-time musician, everyone would love you."

I laughed again. "You've never even heard my stuff."

"I don't need to," he answered truthfully. "I've heard you sing, you're incredible. And you know how to produce and write music. And, if it's good enough to be on the radio, then I know you've got nothing to worry about."

He could have just been saying that to be nice, and if it wasn't so clearly written on his face that he really believed what he was telling me, I would have thought so. Heat crept up to my cheeks, and I smiled, telling him, "Thank you," before taking another drink of water to cool myself off.

We spent the rest of the meal talking about some of our favorite music, which was a nice way to end it. We had a decent discussion about classical music (He was surprised and I think a little turned on by the fact that I knew a lot of what he was talking about in that department), and as we cleaned up the dishes he happily told me about the story behind one of my favorite classical pieces (which I didn't know and was more than glad to learn).

And while we were on the subject of music, I took him over to my piano when we finished cleaning up, which sat under the only window in the main room of the apartment. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the sleek black of the piano. Since it was a small apartment, I couldn't have a 'fancy' piano like I wanted, so it was an electric one with a few settings to change the sound. I never messed around with it though, unless I was working on something for someone else. But even then, I did that work with other people in the studio, and not at home.

"Here, sit next to me," I said, patting the small space on the bench.

We barely fit together, but it gave us an excuse to be close to each other, which I think he liked. I know I liked it, at least.

"Are you gonna play something?" he asked. "I mean, you don't have to of course, I don't want to make you or put pressure on you or anything, but..."

"I wouldn't have brought you here if I wasn't going to play you something, Stranger," I said with a laugh, turning the piano on and nudging him with my shoulder. "Though, if you don't want me to, I can think of a few other things I could do for you instead..."

I looked up at him to see his face in a flush, and I smiled, my stomach knotting in that unfamiliar way again.

"Um... Maybe when you're done playing," he said finally, reaching out to ghost over the keys with his fingers.

"Do you play?" I asked, suddenly very warm, and turned on at the idea of watching his hands work around a piano.

"A little. I... I don't know much, but I'm a fast learner."

With a small smile, I grabbed his hand and placed his fingers over certain keys to make a chord. "There. Press all of those together," I told him.

He did, and a smile broke out on his face.

"C Minor," I said. "My favorite chord."

"You have a favorite chord?"

"What, you don't?"

"I... never really thought about it."

We laughed together for a few seconds before he played the chord again, this time tapping the pedal underneath to make it ring out longer. I looked up at him with a smile, right as he looked down at me with an even bigger one. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say we got closer, even though that was impossible unless I'd sat on him. Which I didn't do. Not right then at least.

No, I cleared my throat and messed around with a few keys, trying to decide what to play. Spencer removed his hands from the keyboard as I did it, and I could feel his eyes watching my movements. The thought sent more warmth through me, and I decided to go with something familiar.

My fingers settled on the right keys and started playing the chords to Wildest Dreams. And when I started singing, I swear I felt him melt beside me. It was different from the guitar performance, because at the piano I made it sweeter. My vocals weren't as strong, and I slowed it down to make sure I got everything perfect, but made it a point to look over to him occasionally, winking as I sang some rather sultry lyrics.

When I was done, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He looked down at me, his eyes studying my face like he was going to kiss me, but he leaned away from me, like he was deciding against it. Finally though, he spoke.

"While I appreciate the performance, it completely juxtaposes the text you sent me last night."

I really didn't know what to say, mostly because I was having a hard time remembering what I texted. I would have been able to remember any other time, but in the moment I was just too entranced by his presence and the way he was staring at me. "W—What did I say?"

My hand was still on the piano, but I felt his reach out and lightly brush over it, caressing the lengths of my fingers. "You said you might sing for me if I was good for you... We haven't done anything yet, and you still sang for me anyway."

Oh, that...

I smiled, sliding my hand out from under his and dragging my middle finger along his own, up and then back down, over and over again. "Didn't you know that I can see the future?"

He looked amused. "Oh, really?"

"Mhmm..." I kept drawing lines up his middle finger, but leaned in closer to him. "And just before you got here, I saw that you made me cum three times."

He took a moment before leaning in closer and responding, his voice barely above a whisper. "You and your ultimatums..."

"It wasn't an ultimatum. It was the future."

Our faces got closer...

"Oh, okay. I believe you."

...And closer...

"Good."

My eyes fluttered closed as he kissed me, gently and with a care that was practically butterfly-inducing. I leaned into him further, finally moving my hand up his arm and snaking up to grab his hair. As his lips parted and his tongue gently swiped over my bottom lip, I climbed up onto his lap, placing my hands around his head to anchor myself to him. He used his to grab the piano in front of him, pushing us forward a little so we wouldn't fall off the bench. The mess of notes rung out loudly in the air, much like they had the day before, right before I went to the café and ran into him.

The coincidence of it all almost made me laugh, but the humor quickly dissipated before I could, because Spencer brought one of his hands to my lower back and groaned softly into my mouth.

I moaned right back, shifting my hips slightly so that I was straddling one of his legs. He spread them wider to give me more room, and I settled nicely, grinding down and almost whining at how little friction there was between the corduroy that adorned his leg and the denim that adorned mine. That didn't stop me, though. I rode his thigh as well as I could, relishing in the way his hand pushed me further into him and his kisses got deeper and more desperate.

Eventually, though, I had enough. I pulled my mouth away from his and clumsily got off of him, standing up and unbuttoning my jeans. He turned around and reached out to help, but I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Stay right there. I'm gonna finish what I started, but I need to get these damn pants off first."

He didn't argue. I held eye contact with him up until I slowly tugged my pants down and stepped out of them, lifting up my shirt a little so he could see the underwear I was wearing. As expected, his eyes wandered south, and I could have sworn I saw his pupils dilate.

But I didn't give him a lot of time to take them in. I made good on my promise and climbed up on his lap again, wrapping my arms around his neck and biting my lip as I started to ride his thigh once more. I started off slow, pressing my forehead to his and enjoying how it felt when his hands firmly grabbed onto my ass. Our lips met again, slowly and yet, also just as desperate as they had before. And with each antagonizing slow roll of my hips, his kisses got bolder, and his hands kneaded my ass, urging me to go faster.

Thankfully for him, I was feeling just as desperate as he was. So I quickened my movements on his thigh and kissed him harder, taking his bottom lip in between my teeth and tugging it before tilting my head to the other side and kissing him again. Meanwhile I could feel that burning in my lower stomach that signaled a fast-approaching orgasm. So I ground myself onto him even harder and whined in his mouth, just before pulling away to speak.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum already," I breathed, pressing small kisses to his jaw.

Spencer squeezed my ass and leaned into my touch. "Go ahead, Y/N..."

It wasn't like he was giving me permission, but just hearing him say my name regardless sent me over the edge, and in no time I was shaking around his leg, clenching my own around him and clinging to his neck for dear life.

Once I came down, I sighed and smiled into his neck, kissing it and moving up to his ear. "Two more to go."

What he said next threw me completely off guard.

"No."

It wasn't a command, or a threat. It was a matter-of-fact statement. I pulled away and looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

He only smirked. "You said I was going to make you cum three times... You did that one all on your own."

The sultry, cocky way he said it made me melt, and I knew then that I was in some serious trouble.

The first time he made me cum was right there on the piano bench. He insisted that I sit down while he eat me out, and I wasn't one to complain. However, he did drag it out so long that by the time I actually came, it felt like I'd done it a thousand times over.

So, to give myself a little break, I returned the favor, and we made it to the kitchen before I couldn't wait any longer and promptly decided to suck him off while he leaned back against the counter. I took the same courtesy he had in dragging it out, pulling off of him completely right as he was about to cum, and I absolutely melted into a pile of nothing upon hearing how he whined and panted while I did it.

I did that in about five long, excruciating cycles before he told me it was my turn and dragged me into my bedroom.

The second time I came, he fucked me against the door, one of my legs standing on the ground while the other lifted and rested on my dresser. He didn't waste any time, just pushing my panties aside and fucking me hard and fast. And fast it was. It only took about a minute before I was convulsing around him, every nerve I had set on fire.

He let me have one more break, laying me down on the bed and taking his time stripping off the rest of my clothes. He must have spent a solid half hour just licking, biting, and teasing my breasts, his hand occasionally reaching down to graze my clit for a few strokes before returning to touch the rest of me. All the while, he slowly rutted against my thigh, moaning into my skin when he got close and stopping his movements all together for about a minute before continuing.

But I was growing impatient and squirmy. So I grabbed his face, pulled him up to kiss me, and wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Fuck me, Spencer, please," I begged, kissing his jaw and shivering at the way he whimpered hearing his name fall from my lips.

He adjusted us for a moment before sliding into me slowly, and we both let out some of the most filthy sounds I'd ever heard. Every movement and sound we made from then on was frantic, desperate, and so full of need that I was almost positive I wasn't even alive anymore. Was I even ever alive at all? Did life exist?

"I can't... I'm go—gonna..."

Spencer suddenly coming to a halt and coming inside me was all I could feel, and it brought me back to my senses. I breathed out his name as he continued emptying everything he had into me, just like he'd admitted to me that he wanted back in the coffee shop. I was close myself, but with his halted movements, I didn't get there.

As I moved one of my hands down to rub my clit, he grabbed my wrist and pinned it above my head, pulling out and then plunging back into me, causing me to gasp.

"That's my job, angel," he murmured sweetly, just as he began slowly fucking his cum into me.

If I wasn't already in trouble, that would have destroyed me.

It didn't take long before I was crying out his name and orgasming for the fourth time that night. It was the most powerful one I'd had... well, ever, if I was being honest. My back gradually lifted off the bed and my eyes were screwed so tightly it felt like they were bruising.

But God be damned if I didn't want to experience that whole feeling over and over again for the rest of my life.

He stayed there for a moment, leaning over me and brushing the softest kisses to my temple as we caught our breaths. Eventually, though, and I wasn't sure how long exactly we'd been wrapped up in each other, he pulled out and laid beside me. And if it wasn't for his cum dripping out of me, I would have probably fallen asleep right there and been happy.

As if he was able to read my mind, Spencer sat up and brushed some of the hair from my face. "I'll go get something to clean you up real quick. Don't move."

I giggled, feeling light-headed and completely blissful as I caught him in our afterglow, taking in his beauty and basking in it like the sun. "I wouldn't go anywhere even if I could."

It wasn't until he came back and started cleaning between my legs with a warm washcloth that I realized what I said.

It took even longer for me to realize that he'd grabbed and put back on his underwear and pants.

As he tossed the washcloth into the laundry basket in the corner of my room, I sat up and reached for his sweater, slipping it on before he could say otherwise. It smelled like him and fit just right, which made me feel all warm and happy.

"Did you, um... want me to stay?" he asked softly not stepping any closer.

Yes.

"It, uh... would probably be better if you left. But... You can stay for an hour or two before you go home?"

Of course it was only a suggestion, because I couldn't make him do anything. But I asked it like a question, because I really wanted him to stay, just for a little bit longer if he couldn't stay the whole night.

Spencer nodded, smiling, and looking a little relieved if I was reading him right. "You should try to go to the bathroom first. Urination after sex is essential to prevent UTIs."

Smiling, I got up from the bed and kissed him on the cheek before grabbing a pair of clean underwear from my drawer and walking to the bathroom.

When I came back with a freshly washed face, my jewelry discarded, and feeling refreshed and ready to fall asleep, he was laying on my bed with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his bare chest. Thinking better of it, I took off his sweater and threw it at him before rummaging through my drawers for a night shirt of my own.

"You could have kept it on," he said quietly, even as he put the shirt back on himself.

I shrugged, slipping on a large brown tee-shirt and climbing into bed under the covers. "You can't go home without a shirt."

"Right..." He sounded a little sad, but maybe I was just imagining it.

I rolled over on my side and looked at him, already feeling myself start to drift off. But I forced my eyes open and reached out to brush my fingertips through his hair. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," was all he said, a small smile adorning his lips.

I hummed and nestled in closer to him, and his hand came down to rub the inside of my arm.

And as much as I tried to stay awake, just so he would stay longer, inevitably I fell asleep, hearing Spencer humming the melody to my favorite classical piece.

***

My arms stretched out, seeking his warmth even though I knew it wouldn't be there. I told him, made it a point to make sure he knew he had to leave after I fell asleep.

So why did I feel saddened by his disappearance?

I groaned into my pillow and stretched my body, already feeling it ache from all that... strenuous activity from the night before. When I opened my eyes and turned my head, I saw just a glimpse of the sun peeking through the curtains in my bedroom, illuminating what looked like a piece of paper on the other pillow next to me.

I slowly sat up and grabbed it, rubbing my eyes to will myself to read it. I already figured it would be another note from Spencer, but my hear fluttered when I read it nonetheless.

Not sure when I'll be free to meet again, but I'd like to keep in touch— As much as I love when you call me Stranger, I'd prefer to be anything but.

Sweet dreams, — Stranger Spencer

Yeah. I was definitely in trouble.

***

“All my pleasure choked by pain Since I let you get away. I should’ve tied you to the bed When I had you in the flesh. Now I’m chained to the memories.

How the music played loud. How my hair came down. How you kissed my mouth With a fire I can’t put out.

Why does it feel like torture Not to have your skin on mine?”

—Liz Longley, Torture

SERIES TAGLIST: @bluesunrise02 @meowiemari​ @teenwolfgirl90

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[peculiarmindset]

Can you do a prompt where Draco accidentally farts infront of Harry for the first time

***Sorry for the long wait- I really liked this prompt and wanted to write it out properly. And this will probably be the last prompt I write for anybody for while (unless I REALLY like it). I have something planned and hopefully it’ll be ready by this weekend *crosses fingers* Hope you enjoy anon! 🤗

The Bunbuster Fart - Sounds like a Beefy One, except much more sudden and much much more powerful. Generally smells eggy or beefy. Leaves your asshole smarting. You really feel these babies.

“How about an after dinner game of Quidditch?”

“You’re on!”

Draco and Hermione exchanged an exasperated but fond look as they watched the Weasleys running out the door, with Ron pulling a laughing Harry along with him.

If someone told Draco a few years ago that he’d be at one of the Weasley’s Sunday Dinners as a welcomed guest and actually find himself enjoying the company of redheads, he would have laughed himself silly before hexing that poor sod for good measure.

But here he was.

And he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but the Burrow at that moment.

“Well, let’s go after them, shall we?” Hermione sighed, as she stood up from her seat.

Draco nodded as he also made his way up, looking behind to see the Weasley matriarch putting away the dishes with some help from Fleur. “Would you like some help, Mrs. Weasley?”

Molly looked up, one of the empty gravy boats in hand, as she grinned and made a shooing gesture at them. “Thank you dear, but you can leave it to me and Fleur here.” Molly gave him a wink. “And it’s Molly to you, remember? Now you all have fun!”

Draco chuckled. “Alright. We’ll see you after the game, Molly.”

“There’ll be some dessert waiting for you all when you return!” She called out to them as the two left.

Draco followed Hermione as they headed to the field, seeing Ginny and Ron already in some sort of argument.

“You ALWAYS get Harry!” Ginny yelled at her brother, throwing her arms up in the air.

“Mens before hens, little sister!” Ron crowed, shielding Harry behind him as if afraid she would physically drag his best friend to her team.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” She argued. She opened her mouth to add something before catching a glimpse at Draco and Hermione in a conversation as they made their way towards them. She paused and a sly grin grew on her face.

“Fine- you can keep the used goods.” Ignoring Harry’s offended “Hey!”, Ginny quickly made her way to the approaching pair and grabbed both their hands, startling the two.

“I get both your better halves on my team then!” She called out.

Ron snorted. “Sure. Malfoy has never once won against Harry and Mione’s never played at all.”

Ginny just smirked at her brother, as she pulled them away and formed a huddle with her team.

“Ok, so today is kind of like the grand championship of all games. Me and Ron are at a dead tie and today is the day we find out who is superior.” Ginny explained to Draco and Hermione. George already knew the rivalry his two youngest siblings had when it came to their family matches.

“I don’t think me playing is a good idea.” Hermione bit her lip, looking her ‘team’ that consisted of Draco, George, her and captained by Ginny. The other team had Harry, Bill, George’s girlfriend, Angelina and was captained by Ron. The referees were Percy and Arthur.

Ginny gave a dark laugh. “No, today will be utterly brilliant.” They came together as Ginny told them of her plan.

“My little sister has gone absolutely bonkers…let do it.” George grinned widely, grabbing his broom.

Even Hermione was smiling.

Draco looked at his boyfriend’s ex with an shocked and impressed look. “And how are you not in Slytherin?”

Ginny lips curved upward. “And break the Weasley tradition? Would’ve given my brothers a heart attack.” She gave a laugh and winked at the wide-eyed look Draco gave her. “What? Harry’s not the only one who can talk a hat into doing what they want.”

(=^w^=)**************************

This had to be one of the most bizarre but downright most fun quidditch games Draco ever played in.

Harry and he were of course the seekers, with Ginny and Angelina as chasers, George and Bill as beaters, and Ron and Hermione as the keepers.

At first, the game went alright, with Ron’s team gaining a lead in the first half.

Which was of course, all according to Ginny’s plan- to give her brother a false sense of security.

And then the second half is where everything went mad.

Draco trailed after his boyfriend and whenever he got too close, he would give accidental brushes here and there, a lingering touch and smile that darkened with barely concealed want that made his beau pause and shiver, completely distracting him from searching for the snitch.

Ron wasn’t faring any better neither. Although he and his girlfriend were on other sides of the field as they protected their respective goals, Hermione would flash him flirty looks and overly praise him with compliments whenever he stopped a goal, distracting her boyfriend and making his face as red as his hair.

Hermione and Draco had asked if their method would have been considered cheating, but Ginny assured them that after the Weasley Halloween match of 91’ where it ended with Percy’s arm twisted like a pretzel and Fred somehow turned into a gnome and lost in their garden for 3 days, everything was fair game during the Weasley Quidditch Matches.

George had also done the same game plan to Angelina, but his girlfriend had eventually caught on what he was up to.

But unfortunately, Ginny had predicted for that to happen and helped George make offensive attacks instead towards Angelina and Bill (who Ginny was originally targeting).

Draco flew his broom higher, trying to get a good view of the whole field and also for one other personal reason.

As he hovered above and watched Ginny hitting the quaffle through the hoop, barely missing Ron’s head, he felt a burst hot air slowly hiss out of his bottom.

Pssssssstttttt….

Draco hoped his blush wasn’t showing as his indiscreetly tried to shift his broom, fanning the stench away.

In actuality, the blonde’s stomach started to act up a few minutes after their game began.

Draco had eaten a lot during dinner, almost the same amount as Ron, which was quite an impressive feat.

Not only was this the first time he has tasted the Weasley matriarch’s cooking (whom he quickly agreed made the best Sunday dinner he ever ate) but he had also wanted to make a good impression on his boyfriend’s ‘adopted’ family as well.

Luckily, Molly had pretty much taken to Draco almost immediately anyway since anyone who made Harry happy as he was now, was pretty much welcomed as part of her family. But seeing the blonde enjoy her food as much as he had was like the cherry on the top.

Draco bit his lip, as another fart let him, the embarrassing sound audible to his ears making him grimace.

He should have never had that second helping of pot roast, let alone a third helping. Or any extra helpings he had of whatever was on that table.

Bbbbrrrrttttt….

Draco huffed as he ignored his lower half and tried to focus back on the game.

To everyone’s surprise, Hermione actually made a decent keeper. When she wasn’t distracting Ron, she was able to guard her goalpost and prevent any quaffle from entering.

Who knew that underneath that bushy haired bookworm lied a decent keeper?

Pffffffttttt….

Draco bit his lip as more air expelled from his bumcheeks. Thankfully, they were out in the open and he was far away from the others so no one would know about the symphony of farts his arsehole was playing right now.

Draco suddenly shot up, a loud fart boomed out of him when he did so, when he finally spotted the snitch.

Ignoring his rumbling belly, he zoomed right towards the snitch just at the same time that Harry had also caught sight of it.

They flew side by side, a few feet apart, both exchanging grins before focusing their sole attention on capturing the snitch.

The blonde wasn’t even aware of all the farts that was shooting out of his bum at that moment (they were too quiet for Harry to hear anyway and the speed of which they flew blew away the smells his farts may have had and cause it to dissipate in the wind).

After a few more twists and turns, both boys finally reached out their hands as they made to caught the snitch.

The snitch entered his hand.

And it was over.

Ginny’s team won.

“I got it!” Draco yelled triumphantly, holding up the snitch proudly in his hand.

“HELL YESSSSSS!” Ginny’s scream echoed throughout the field, loud enough to scare the flock of passing birds away.

Draco could hear his boyfriend laughing but his thoughts were too focused on the fact that he finally won against Harry Potter.

He, Draco Malfoy, finally caught the snitch.

The boys flew their brooms towards the ground, to a patch of high grass that was a little away from everyone and hidden the pair a bit, but they were too tired from their earlier chase to fly anymore.

As soon as they landed, Harry grinned at Draco and gave the blonde a loud smack on the lips. “Congratulations, love.”

Draco’s eyes were sparkling as he held up the snitch to the other. “Finally beat you, Potter.”

Harry chuckled as he nodded his head. “Right you did. I’m proud of you, although I kinda feel bad for Ron- Ginny will never let him live this down.” He tilted his head to the right and they both watched Ginny and George, arms crossed as they danced in circles and crowed loudly to their victory.

The boyfriends snorted when they saw Hermione trying to console her defeated boyfriend- although she wasn’t doing a very good job as she herself was laughing too much.

Harry shook his head as he gave the other a soft smile and pulled his boyfriend to him for a big hug and another kiss.

Right then, Draco’s gut reminded him of his earlier gas problems and before he could do anything, Harry gave his middle a tight saueeze, making Draco let out a huge and very loud fart right then.

BRRRRTTTTTT!

They both froze at Draco’s fart.

Mortified, Draco tried to push the other away, unable to believe that he had just farted in front of his boyfriend.

He wanted to die.

And that fart just now wasn’t only one of the loudest and smelliest one yet, but it exited his arsehole with a burn- he had to swallow the whimper at the sting it left.

Not knowing what to do, Draco became confused when he suddenly heard a snort that was quickly followed by loud laughter as he was once again gathered up in his lover’s arms.

“I guess your bum wanted to congratulate you as well, love.” Harry giggled, holding the other close to him, wanting to make sure the blonde knew he didn’t mind at all so his boyfriend wouldn’t feel bad.

Draco blushed, but stopped trying to escape as he let himself be held. “Oh, shut up Harry. I ate too much earlier.” He grumbled, relieved that his boyfriend wasn’t grossed out by Draco breaking wind.

Harry guffawed. “I’ll say, never thought you could put away all that food- I was impressed. Made Molly very happy.” Harry paused before giving a loud sniff, making a face. “But maybe next time, you might want to skip the extra helping of pot roast, love. It really stinks right now.” The air around them had a foul stench which was strangely meaty.

“Shut up.” Draco’s face reddened even more. “Unfortunately, my flatulence doesn’t come off as roses, oh mighty savior.”

Harry snorted. “Flatulence. So posh, you prat. Just say fart like the rest of us.” He then grinned. “But who knew this lovely thing would let out such a manly ‘burp’.” He patted his boyfriends bum before giving it a teasing squeeze.

Although Draco’s face was still red, he was glad that his boyfriend wasn’t disgusted or turned off by his emission of gas.

As he was still riding off the high from his first quidditch win against his lover, when he felt his boyfriend give his buttocks another squeeze, the blonde mustered up all the courage he had and shoved his bum hard against the other’s hand and forced out a very noisy and quite wet sounding fart right onto his unsuspecting lover.

BRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP!

Draco burst out laughing as Harry gasped. “And that was my bum’s way of also saying I won and you lost, Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort back but he ended up coughing as the powerful stench of rotten meat filled the air just then.

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Draco giggled as he quickly dodged his lover’s hands as the other made to grab him and he ran as fast as he could back to the others.

Draco couldn’t wait to come back again for next week’s Weasley Sunday Dinners and hopefully have another after-dinner game of Quidditch.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Hey, it’s me again! ^_^ I hope I don’t bother you too much with my requests, but your posts are so cool I just can’t help it. Upon completing Yakuza 4 I’ve had a lot of thoughts and feels about Daigo and how his character was handled across the series. To be honest, at first I didn’t like him much, because he seemed pretty bland (and his screen time leaves much to be desired), but soon enough he’s really grown on me. What is your opinion on him if you don’t mind me asking?

I definitely do not mind requests! Meta is my bread and butter c: I’ve just been busy for a few days, sorry ^^; And... my opinions on Daigo are not going to be as mindblowing or exciting as my opinions on Kiryu, I’ll be real ^^; And there’s a big advantage in Kiryu being the protag, All of the content is about him ^^; I do love Daigo, I think he’s a super interesting character, but his tragedy is just what you pointed out, he’s underutilized. And he isn’t set up very well to have the position he holds. 

But, so saying, let’s get into my essay on Daigo ^^; 

So, we meet Daigo properly in game 2. There’s little side stories with baby Daigo in Zero which helps build Daigo’s and Kiryu’s relationship and set up for what would later happen, but we don’t really know him until game 2. And game 2 is a LOT about Daigo and his arc and what he’s meant to be! There’s a tumblr text post meme somewhere with a pic of Daigo depressed in his little puffy white coat that says “And I’ll probably become the next chairman of the Tojo Clan. Things like that just happens to guys like me.” and that is totally accurate! Like, it’s a funny thing to complain about, but that’s obviously the struggle Daigo’s having, understanding from a young age that it was obviously his destiny to succeed Sohei, the only problem is uh... well... Kiryu. 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dojima Sohei never became chairman of the Tojo Clan. And that’s really wild thinking back to Zero and how powerful he was, he was all but a shoo in for chairman. But then, uh... Kiryu. Kiryu happened. Kiryu, and Majima I should say, are the reason Sera becomes chairman, not Sohei. Forever upsetting the wheels of fate. Given where we see Sohei next, I can’t imagine that he ever really recovered from that upset ^^; And I’m SURE it made him bitter towards Kiryu the rest of his life. And considering, again, where we see him next, I think the canon supports this ^^; 

So what becomes of Daigo’s destiny then? His father had victory snatched away, destiny denied, and everything he had slowly crumbles over time, leaving his son with less and less to inherit, but still with the ideology that he should take this over. That’s an awkward position to be in. 

And then Sera dies. Ooh, golly, I wonder who the next chairman’s gonna- it’s Kiryu. Of course it’s fucking Kiryu, how could it not be? It OBVIOUSLY should be Kiryu. He’s the strongest, the bravest, and who inspires the most loyalty. It doesn’t matter that Kiryu’s never been in leadership before, he TURNS people. Kiryu could get anyone on his side through sheer force of personality, which is hilarious to say about a guy with maybe 3 facial expressions. But tell me I’m wrong. I cannot count the number of part-time antagonists who turned on a dime because Kiryu beat their ass. And anyone who can do that can rule the world. Kiryu was absolutely the best pick for chairman and I will fight the world on this.

(Abbreviated for length, this is a LONG post)

But... then Kiryu makes the stupidest decision of his entire fucking life and renounces the chairmanship. And he has his reasons, feeling unworthy, traumatized from the events of Kiwami 1, unsure if he even wants to stay in the yakuza or if there’s maybe something else he wants to do with his life... he’s going through a lot of intense self-reflection and self-doubt and, I hate to harp on it, but fucking trauma. His brother blew himself up in front of him in a bid for redemption after all but telling Kiryu that all of his mistakes are Kiryu’s fault. Yeah, no, I’m sure Kiryu’s doing FINE with that. So, like, I can see why Kiryu said no, but it was still... fucking nuts. And it irrevocably changed the trajectory of everyone in this universe. Which Kiwami 2 goes out of its way to explore. Kiryu’s leaving? Majima fucking retires, Terada’s suspect, there aren’t any old, loyal hands left to lead the families, and we see how vulnerable the Tojo clan is on every side because Kiryu just up and fucked off. 

(I have A LOT of feelings about Kiryu being chairman and someday I will have the strength to write the AU we all deserve where Kiryu stays as chairman)

So... the wheel of fate turns and oh yeah remember Daigo? Dojima Sohei’s son Daigo? The kid who’s been raised his whole life to take over the clan only to be denied at every turn? How’s he doing? Not great! It turns out, not great! Kiryu, his father figure, killed his ACTUAL father, but didn’t really, took the blame for some other weird guy, leaving Daigo with one badass mother and very little direction in life. Daigo’s been brought up thinking he’ll take over a great kingdom but all that’s left now is a broken wreck about to be demolished and picked apart by scavengers. Great, yeah, just what any kid wants to inherit. And he wasn’t trained to fix this, it’s kinda shitty to saddle him with destiny and then not train him for the thing that actually has to be done and then do it anyway. It’s real shitty actually. And not many people help Daigo. 

Daigo couldn’t have taken the chairmanship directly from Sera, he was still just a teenager then. But it probably would have been nice if Kiryu checked in with him even fucking once since getting out of jail. But no, we never explain on screen to Daigo what happened as far as I can remember. Which, I feel, is a pretty fucking big oversight. How the fuck is Daigo supposed to trust you Kiryu? Or we’re supposed to believe he just figured it out off screen and holds no grudges? Like, I’m sure knowing Kiryu didn’t kill Sohei helps, but he couldn’t fucking tell you that himself? He couldn’t trust you with that information or that conversation? Fuck this. Very understandably, Daigo has his own crisis of faith about the yakuza, very much in parallel to Kiryu’s. Why the fuck SHOULD he go to bat for a crumbling organization that has only proven itself to be a dog chasing its own tail, willing to devour itself at the slightest provocation? It took his father, both his fathers, and he didn’t really get either of them back. Why the fuck should he try to fix that? 

And to its credit, Kiwami 2 does a decent job of articulating Daigo’s motivations there. I could have done with even more, but I think they do him credit in showing him as disenfranchised and lost. And I think it’s refreshing to see someone have to confront the consequences of what’s happened since Kiryu left. Because the games don’t do a good job of showing that this is Kiryu’s direct fault. They never like to make Kiryu’s decisions have consequence, which is poor use of a protag. Rightly or wrongly, their decisions ALWAYS have consequence, or they’re not the protag. You can’t have it both ways. If this person is going to matter then, guess what, their consequences matter. Kiryu turned away. Rightly or wrongly, he did that. Daigo will never get that opportunity. Child of destiny. Not only was he bred and raised for this, he doesn’t know how to do anything else either. He doesn’t have other options the way Kiryu does. And we’re in a terrible vacuum of power. Terada’s namely in charge, but no one’s loyal to him. Even if he wasn’t deliberately fostering this, the Tojo Clan can’t survive without faith in their leader. Daigo, by fact of being his fathers’ son, can bind what’s left. And he has to because Kiryu won’t. Which is... really shitty. So either Daigo does this, or we all hang. And we never quite articulate that this is on Kiryu’s say so. Kiryu could still take over now and fix it he just... won’t.

And on top of this already comfortably stressful situation... we set Daigo up to come into a stable situation of power, where his transition would be smooth. We didn’t give him the tools to know how to salvage. He’s not practiced negotiating with hostile entities or even just people who will resent him because he’s young. And he’s lost a lot of faith, without even charisma and willpower on his side, this is a massively uphill battle. If he doesn’t believe, who else will believe him? Daigo knows this. And we watch that struggle go on, all while Kiryu just cheerleads. He hasn’t decided yet if he’s gonna stay in the yakuza either and he’s lowkey depressed after Kiwami 1. Lowkey he’s just suffering depression and can’t do as much as he normally would. Not an excuse, but I think an important way to read how tired and reluctant he is. Some therapy would really fucking help. 

Anyway, we manage to get through Kiwami 2 and install Daigo as chairman, at which point Kiryu fucks off for good. Now, he kinda/sorta leaves some supports for Daigo, in Majima specifically, but also in Kashiwagi and I wanna believe in Daigo’s mom too. She was so cool and then we just... never talked about her again ^^; Laaaame *sigh* So, I guess, Kiryu did try to fulfill his remaining responsibilities as Daigo’s living father, but mostly it was just an excuse for him to leave and not feel guilty. Mostly it was him foisting off his duties onto someone else. He didn’t stay to teach Daigo everything he knew about the people Daigo would have to control. He didn’t teach Daigo and Majima how to talk to each other, a thing which REPEATEDLY comes back to bite us in the ass. He’s not there for Daigo to ask advice and help. Kiryu is full of confidence for Daigo, he’s not TRYING to make him fail, but Kiryu’s so caught up in his own need to leave, he neglects to people who need him. 

And Daigo, to his everlasting credit, does his best to get by without Kiryu’s help. As much as possible, he never calls to ask Kiryu for help. And he does grow into a quite competent chairman! He does successfully rehabilitate the Tojo Clan, he makes them profitable again, he insists on respect and people don’t run amok under him. He does it, he salvages a dying organization. And he may not even really believe in it, but he has such a sense of responsibility, he does it anyway. He knows there’s no one else. He knows if he goes to Kiryu and says I don’t want this, Kiryu won’t help him. Kiryu didn’t mean for it to happen this way, he didn’t mean to be selfish and put others in a bad position. But he wasn’t there to listen. And I think Kiryu eventually comes to rue that. 

The very unfortunate thing about Kiryu is... he is a dragon. Even though he is kind and generous and not greedy in a conventional sense, he is greedy. As much as Kiryu is a powerhouse because come hell or high water, he does what he thinks is right... this also makes him extremely selfish. He can be blind to other people’s needs and refused to be tied down. Again, for the best of reasons, because he’s trying to raise a family, because this environment is triggering for him, but he just hauls off and does things instead of talking to anyone which... makes him impossible to have a working relationship with. He has to learn to talk and to listen and that he can’t make all of the decisions by himself. The great irony being, Kiryu never wants to, but he doesn’t know how to ask for help. He’s so used to have everything put on him, he doesn’t realize it doesn’t have to be that way... but anyway, I’m getting caught up ^^; The point is, he thinks because he ditched the Tojo Clan they no longer care about him. Which is... naive at best. Of course people still care about you dumbass. Which makes Kiryu a massive vulnerability to the Tojo. In 3 and 4, Daigo makes stupid calls trying to protect Kiryu and trying to protect his interests. And because Kiryu hasn’t left open an avenue for them to talk, Daigo has to make these decisions on his own with bad information and he does his fucking best. But... he doesn’t know how to make the best of what he has, not like Kiryu would, and he fucks up sometimes. 

I really, really love game 4 for that reason. Daigo’s fuck up is SO understandable, SO reasonable. It sounded like a good idea, it sounded like peace and harmony. And he was left without a leg to stand on before he knew it. In many ways, it wasn’t his fault. Kiryu himself says as much. And I may never forgive the end of 4 for letting Kiryu REALIZE he defaulted on his responsibilities but then, instead of changing his behavior in any way, he fucks off back to Okinawa. God... *siiiigh* ANYWAY. 

And this struggle, this lack of communication, but unstated loyalty, comes full circle in game 5. When Daigo is literally drowning, literally knows he’s going to fail this time and there’s nothing he can do, and even when he’s with Kiryu, he can’t bring himself to ask for help. He knows Kiryu won’t or can’t. Instead he asks for absolution. He tries to tell his dad he’s just been doing his best and... he’s sorry for the terrible things that are about to happen. How gutting that Daigo can only see himself as a failure because... he’s not Kiryu. No one’s Kiryu. Even Kiryu refuses to be Kiryu. But Daigo knows if he was just Kiryu, things would be better. He’s not a legend. He’s not a god. He’s not all-powerful or crazy or impossible. He’s just a guy, doing his best because he had to. Because there was no one else. And some days Daigo does great, but a lot of days, he doesn’t measure up. And that eats at Daigo like mold. Kiryu would NEVER look at Daigo this way. Heck, most people at that point would never compare them. It’s in Daigo’s head, but it still hurts. He’s still, even now, looking up to Kiryu and he’ll just... never quite get there. 

This is the only good thing I will ever say about game 6, and it was still 2 or 3 games too late, but Kiryu finally acknowledging Daigo as his son was good. Kiryu saying he was proud and saying he was grateful was good. Again, several games late, but... it still mattered. It still mattered that, in the end, Kiryu recognized his legacy in Daigo. That he understood so much of what Daigo did and does and is and was is for him. That mattered. 

Daigo is a great chairman who takes care of his clan. But he was robbed of his relationship with his father. The games never work on the relationships that exist, strong relationships, for reasons I will never understand. Games 3, 4, and 5 would have been SO much more interesting if we had just like Kiryu talk to his fucking friends. Two would have been SO much easier if Kiryu had just been fucking chairman like he was fucking supposed to be and the transition of power to Daigo came later and smoother, with Kiryu helping to make it. Daigo tries his hardest every day and he’s an incredible negotiator and savior after all the shit he’s had to pull the Tojo Clan through, kicking and screaming and fighting to tear itself apart every damn day. The generation above him is all legends, Majima and Saejima and Kiryu. Daigo isn’t one of them. But he’s better because he was here and because he tries and because he succeeds. We need Daigo. We deserve him. 

[helpinghanikan]

Public Enemy

X-men x Reader

Sum:  Powers don’t always obey their masters. Sometimes they have their own minds, making problems and causing destruction that you’re left to deal with. When that happens, you’re going to need some help finding a sanctuary. 

an: It’s not specified what Reader’s power is but I was thinking force-fields. I just think Force-field powers are neat. 

Charles Xavier:

Charles’s office, specifically the couch, has been your home for some time. Although it has only been a few days, two at most, but it felt like years. Hours spent sitting specifically in the couch’s corner where anyone entering wouldn’t notice you right away. Reading and taking your place as secretary more seriously makes time move in a slower fashion.

“Would you grab that book for me?” Charles asks, slapping you out of whatever deep thought you were currently drowning in.

At first these little tasks he asks you to do seem to come randomly. As if he just remembered you were there and felt bad. In reality he’s probably been in the outer layer of your mind for longer then you’ve been in the office.

Ignoring these facts, you focused on your work. It had spread quickly through the school that you were open and able to grade anyone’s homework or papers. Like the rest of your current life, these were taken care in Charles’s office. A place you’ve been bent over for hours until a phone call held your attention.

Charles is a pretty decent liar. Between his history with authority and with children, he speaks with enough confidence that it’s not worth thinking about. Obviously he still had his tells, even if the person he was lying wasn’t in front of him, he still looked down and go quiet for a second.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t heard from her.” When he starts his lie, his tells are typically gone. “Yes, we will absolutely contact you if she comes here. And, in the event of that happening, I ask that consider our relationship before deciding anything.”

You don’t say anything when he hangs up. Instead deciding that to grab that book before he asks you to.

Erik Lehnsherr:

Erik was nice enough not to say or ask anything at first. Your few items in a bag, and all your savings spent on bribing a boat captain to take you here. All this was written on your face, practically screaming that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Is anyone going to be coming?” was the only thing he asked.

Instead of a verbal answer you shrugged with a shake of your head. Maybe…

Erik uses the excuse of an escort to keep a hand on your back, around your shoulders. Even gently on the back of your neck to ask his question in a whisper. Although Genosha was supposedly a sanctuary to all mutants, you were still an outsider. An outsider who had, not only, caused destruction but just might bring down the anger of the world onto them.

“You came here quickly, then.” Erik says, in leadership mode. Sitting across from you, elbows on his knees, looking almost into you.

“You guys aren’t exactly hiding,” It wasn’t a good joke but still you blow air out of your nose, trying to force a tiny laugh.

“Then why come here to hide?” He asks.

When the answer you give is another shrug (I don’t know…) he sighs. Standing and returning with a hot cup of beverage. A kettle had either been set before he stepped out to greet you, or one was constantly kept a little warm. Either way it was somewhere between tea and coffee, but definitely not both.

“What did you do?” he asks.

It took some time to tell the entire story. Skipping too many details about the fear and anger that all came at you at once. Erik has heard it all before in much worse amounts. Only admitting that you were wanted, so many were hurt or completely destroyed by a lapse of control.

He doesn’t interrupt or ask any other questions. He just listens and keeps an ear out for helicopters.

Raven/ Mystique:

At some point you were taken to the hospital with the other survivors. The journey was hard to remember; being placed on a bed and tossed around in the back of an ambulance. Pretending to be just as out of it as the others, really just avoiding eye contact with the paramedics.

It’s nice to think that you had a plan for when you got to the hospital, and you kinda did. With all the people coming in at once there was the chance you’d be left in the hallway or an open area to wait for a bed. In the event of that happening you could just roll over and walk out. Just walk with confidence and make it out the door.

That you were now restrained in a bed in your own room meant that plan was out the window. Laying back and letting the nurses check you out with shaking hands. Just enough to check you over but not enough to pretend to be doing their job.

“It’s fine,” The nurse says, practically slamming the room door shut behind him. It wasn’t a thick door; you could still hear through it. “Please don’t make me go near it again.” He says to someone in the hallway, probably a doctor or some other superior.

It isn’t until their talking has mostly stopped that you bother trying to escape. Your restraints were soft but also tight, something that you couldn’t slide out of easily. Rocking the bed, trying to tip it over, would just leave you dangling off the side. Still strapped in but with bruises and staring at the floor.

While thinking of another dashing escape plan the door opens again. A nurse steps and gently closes the door behind her. This one was a woman nurse, so far you’ve only been dealing with males. It was likely because of the threat you posed that it had only been men. Specifically, the biggest nurses and orderlies that were available.

Because of this you watch the woman as she walks over. She was a small woman with brown hair in a bob cut, the white uniform and a smile she held while pulling the curtain around. You were smart enough not to say anything until she did. Or until she shifts entirely from white uniform into blue skin, immediately pulling at your restraints.

“Hey, Hi. Babe, I’m sorry…” You have a million things to say at once.

All the words fighting to be the first to be said. All ignored by your girl, who just places a gentle hand over your mouth and whispers a shhh. Going back to the restraints and whispering:

“Don’t say anything,” She says, opening the first and reaching over to get the next. “Let’s just get out of here.”

You quickly pulled the faded green scrubs over your clothes. Raven placing a surgical hat on your head and mask over your face was the best she could do. Raven quickly becoming the bobbed hair nurse again. She nods at you, as if to say, “everything will be fine.”

Peter Maximoff:

So much energy coming out at once has to take it out form somewhere. What was a splitting headache a second ago became a massive weight. One that dragged you down from the standing position and towards the floor. Only to be caught by arms that were not there a second ago.

It wasn’t that Peter was “harboring a fugitive,” or was “obstructing justice” he was just helping out his girlfriend. Something that he has argued about with several people.

“I don’t believe this was done on purpose, Ser.” Professor Xavier says into the phone, staring at Peter as he did. “No, she still has yet to reach out to us. To any of us. The moment she does we will tell you.”

Peter makes a face and shrugs when the phone is hung up. “I don’t see why they need her. It’s was an accident, she said sorry, I don’t see what else there is.”

Professor Xavier doesn’t seem to bother asking where you are. Peter wouldn’t tell him, and he could easily find you with cerebro.

“Is she safe?” He asks, wanting whatever truth Peter was willing to give.

“I mean, I don’t know where she is, but she safe. I think, yeah, she’s safe.” He says. Smart enough to help you vanish but not enough to know better then to lie to a telepath.

Hank McCoy:

Like a little kid you’ve chosen the staircase banister to hide behind. Either hand holding onto a separate bar, looking out between them. Your spot was strategically placed far enough away from the door that they wouldn’t see your details through the banister. As far as they were concerned you were just a curious kid. A very big curious kid.

“They” were the people Hank was currently handling at the door. It had been only two days since the incident and it’s amazing it took them this long to reach your door. Three men in suits and a woman in a white coat knocked at your door just after lunch.

Sending the students from the hall Hank took control of the situation. Never outright telling you to leave the main hall but did make a similar “shoo” gesture that he gave the kids while telling them to make their exit.

Although the distance gave you an advantage it also kept you from hearing what was being said. The men on the other side weren’t giving enough body language to tell if they were upset or not. Only one seemed to be talking, the others were moving side to side on their feet. If Hank were to move too far to one side or the other they’d try and make their way inside.

“They don’t have a right to take you, not legally or in anyway.” Hank had reassured you hours earlier.

It started to get tense on the other side of the room. One of the men giving up on waiting for an opening and trying to make one himself.

Hank’s change can happen slow or it can happen so fast you don’t even realize it. The friendly approach of a regular human at the door was abandoned the moment they showed aggression. Blue arms and baring teeth made all three jump, reaching for their hips. The woman in white, the seeming bravest of the group, steps forward. A hand reached out, but the door is slammed in her face.

Jean Gray:

Life is confusing and everyone is screaming.

At first their screams were sympathetic; they were screams of fear and pain. But after hearing them non-stop for several minutes it’s hard to feel bad. It was almost like they were doing it on purpose. Like, if they just shut up for one second you could figure what was happening.

They didn’t, though, they wouldn’t shut up. Distracting you from the indestructible bubbles creating and growing in the walls, machines and skin. Expanding and tearing everything apart.

There’s two other voices among the screaming that stands out: the first is the loudest. It’s the purest form of anger and fear that could ever be made. It was also the most annoying, if that one person would just shut-the-fuck-up you could probably think. The other voice is the only one not screaming. It wasn’t sweet or kind like it was before, it was harsh and stern. Power behind the voice making it louder then a scream ever could be.  

It was pretty obvious whose voice was yours and who’s belonged to Jean.

Jean’s voice was like that. It was powerful, it was a strict father’s and a commanding mother’s combined. If she wanted to, she could make it impossible to escape her voice. She uses this power of voice now: Where your ears can’t take any information, but your mind was burst open and unprotected.

You never understood what she was saying completely. Only that it was nice, and that it made everything go black.

Logan/ Wolverine:

More than half the population of earth is smarter than Logan. He’s more than willing to admit that, but what he did know was not to poke an already agitated bear. That’s all you were in that moment. A very pissed off bear sitting in the corner of a glass square.

It honestly wouldn’t have been that bad if Peter hadn’t compared it to the cages Magneto had been in. That was when everything seemed to become real for you.

This was only way that there wouldn’t be an absolute hunt for mutants. Your containment in exchange for a lie told by the Secretary of Defense to the entire world. That, no, there was not “mutant attack”, this was an unexplained, isolated incident. One that was now being held in the basement of a government building until your fate is decided.

“Are you allowed to smoke in here?” You ask, picking at the bottom of your white scrubs.

“I didn’t see the signs.” He says, waiting for someone to dare and yell at him about the cigar.

Instead of asking for the cigar verbally you raise a hand towards one of the small breathing holes. He slides it towards you, butt first. Only giving a little direction on how to puff the thing instead of straight up inhale it.

Smoking anything while stressed was a good way to start a bad habit. Something Logan tried to keep you from. Given the situation, he allowed the nicotine high you were gonna get from working on the thing. It was another test for this place. A test to see just how long or how many little rules he could break before someone yelled at him.

Not that he would ever use this knowledge for selfish means. It was just good to know when things would start to go south. Not that the Professor gave him permission, he just didn’t tell him not to.

Kurt Wagner:

Any pictures or footage taken of you during the incident were stolen straight from hell. That was the only aspect anyone cared about; the ones where you were wild and there was nothing in your eyes except for uncontrolled power.

No one thought about the few seconds after the incident. That instead of power there was confusion and fear. Staring at your hands and into the world looking for answers.

That scene only lasted a few seconds. Long enough for the blue devil to match your hell appear and disappear with you.

Like a child you went to bed without dinner. Although it was by choice, and this wasn’t your bed. It was a hiding place in the same building that your seekers were searching. But with a protective layer of blankets, and an extra layer of your boy sitting in front of the door, you could enjoy these last few minutes before your life goes to hell.

[i-read-good-books]

So I’ve just read all of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown , and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Every word the characters speak seems to have meaning, and it’s very easy to realize the author has been planning the story for a long time. I urge everyone to check it out!

Because I’m trash, I’ve written some fanfiction. Because of course I have. It’s awful, please dont’ judge the webcomic on it!

@velocesmells I hope it’s not too terrible? It’s supposed to be an AU so I’m justifying how OOC they are in this with that O.O

There’s never anyone that eats with Lillium, but he makes a second plate anyways. You know, just in case.

…

Lillium’s place is dark.

Iris glances at it as he walks down the city streets, his bag slung over his shoulder, and furrows his brow slightly, biting his lower lip. Usually, the guy’s up and running by this time of the day, no matter how late it may be, the kitchen lights turned on until Iris can barely guess if it’s night or day. He doesn’t even have his obnoxious hipster music blasting from the house, which would be a welcome relief, if it weren’t so utterly bizarre.

Iris hesitates. He should be getting to centre soon, there’s a curfew he’s supposed to make on weekdays, regardless of how much he complains about it. It’s just… Lillium doesn’t do quiet evenings in the house. He spends the whole day working his arse off, switching from shitty job to shittier job, so he can come back to the house and cook the whole night, bragging about his omelette magic. Iris has scolded him about it enough times not to know that.

With the hollow, dull feeling in his chest from being perfectly aware that he’s going to regret this, Iris turns and marches up to the battered old house in the worst part of the neighbourhood, his footsteps echoing in the narrow alley. He makes a face at the stench, but powers on through.

There’s not much to Lillium’s that constitutes as a proper house; he’s being nice by not calling it a shack. It’s only one storey, of course (as if the guy could afford anything more than that), and it’s been sitting there, in between two tall apartment buildings, since the beginning of time, dwarfed by the growing urbanization of the landscape around it. Iris has told Lillium a thousand times that it seems more like an abandoned  cabin in a horror movie than anything, given the way the wooden walls are slowly rotting, the random spurts of paint on the walls without any order to them.

Iris fumbles to open the door with his key, swearing when he accidentally pokes his finger, and pushes it open without much trouble. He steps into the kitchen, glancing around for any sign of Lillium.

The place only has three rooms: the bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The bathroom is pretty terrible, which explains why Iris makes sure he’s done his business back at the centre before coming here, and the bedroom has been offered to him so many times (eyes twinkling, a smirk curling Lillium’s lips) that it’s become unthinkable to even go in. It’s not surprising that it’s the kitchen that’s the heart of the house (Lillium lives here), but he has to admit that it’s gotten pretty nice over the years, as more money has come in. Most of the appliances are decent, and it’s always kept pristine when Lillium’s not cooking, although all bets are off the moment he cracks some eggs. He’s also got all of his pictures and stuff there; his books cluttering the shaky shelves, dozens of volumes filled with recipes, his stupid teddy bear reclined against the wall. It makes it seem extremely more personal than his own room, much more intimate.

“Iris?” the familiar voice startles him, and he turns around towards where it’s coming from, tightening his grip on his bag. Lillium’s standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screams ‘unsure’ rather than ‘defensive’, slightly hunched over. He’s frowning. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a curfew?”

“I…,” Iris swallows, before lifting his chin, determined, “Oh, shush, White, leave it alone. Why aren’t you cooking? Did you finally realize everything you make tastes like ash sprinkled with ketchup?”

Lillium doesn’t laugh.

Iris’s heartbeat is faster than it should be. They’re just talking, after all. It’s just… Lillium isn’t smiling, joking around, or teasing him. He’s not even even offering him food, for Christ’s sake. Iris bites his lip again, lowering his gaze.

“You should go back to the centre,” Lillium murmurs, facing away from him. His bleached roots are starting to show amidst all the pink. His voice sounds forcibly light when he adds, “I know you want to be a bad boy and all, but don’t be stupid.”

Something’s wrong.

Iris looks down at the kitchen table. There’s some papers piled up on top of it, smudges of dirt on the corners of them from carrying them around with greasy fingers; besides that, his #1 Chef cup is resting on the table, half-empty. He narrows his eyes…

His apron is missing. In fact, it wasn’t at the rusty hanger Lillium uses to put all his coats up in the corridor. Where’s his apron from the café?

“You got fired,” he realizes, feeling a bit dumb for not noticing earlier, and watches his friend’s shoulders go down. “The café place you liked.”

“10 points for Gryffindor,” Lillium sighs, finally meeting his eyes again, a self-deprecating smile  on his lips. “Guess it wasn’t just meant to be, eh? Alas, they probably knew that, deep in my heart, I belong to you.”

Lillium used to tell him about the café. He was so excited when he got the job, prancing around the house and making Iris stand up to have a ‘happy dance’ in celebration of the first time he actually worked at a place near food. “Just you wait,” he told him, in a sing-song. “Soon I’ll be in the kitchens instead of wiping tables.”

Iris isn’t good at comforting people. Hell, he’s not even good at being around people, the centre’s made sure of that. Mostly he just broods around Lillium and the guy feeds him, takes him out to the park and puts flowers in his hair, snapping pictures of an old Nokia that smells like cat piss. They’re friends because Lillium likes him, not because he’s actually made any effort to keep in touch.

It’s… it’s strange, that his heart shrinks when he thinks of how Lillium’s incandescent smile must have faded today, in front of his boss. It pulls at his insides, the thought of him very quietly leaving through the back instead of spending the day at work.

Iris swallows hard, fidgeting, and chokes out, “Could I get an omelette?”

Lillium raises his eyebrows, “You’re actually asking me for an omelette? Have I died and gone to Heaven?” His eyes twinkle, “Are you my angel?”

Please never die, he thinks, with a terrifying sense of alarm, please.

He’s bad with people, yeah, but Lillium always makes it so that he never has to try. He’s rude and pushes him around, gives him stuff he’s too embarrassed to ask for, and doesn’t care at all that he’s dating both of the twins at the centre at the same time. Lillium’s kind of an older brother, in that way, except he’s constantly offering sex.

“It’s just not right, seeing you mope around like this,” Iris mutters, pursing his lips, “You’re supposed to be cooking or something, you weirdo. And don’t make any angel jokes, those are just old.”

Lillium pouts, taking a step closer to him, “Oh, honeybun.”

“Honeybun,” Iris repeats, faintly amused despite himself. “You do know there are knives in the kitchen, right?”

It takes a little while, but Lillium gives in, pushes Iris aside (“This omelette is supposed to taste good, Iris, shoo.”), and turns on the lights before starting to cook. The smell of bacon slowly being fried  fills the room, and Iris sits down on the chair, letting his bag fall to the floor with a soft thump. He takes his sketchbook out, shoving the papers on the table away and starting to draw absently, wrinkling his nose at his sloppy sketch. Meh, it’s late, anyway.

After some time, the sound of a plate being set on the table startle him, making him look up. The omelette smells heavenly, and it’s a rich, warm colour; between gold and a murky brown from the mushrooms.

“Here you go, my lord,” Lillium sighs, sitting across from him and holding his head up with his bandaged hands, smiling softly. “Enjoy.”

Wordlessly, Iris glares, fuming, and divides the omelette in two.

Lillium raises his eyebrows.

“We’re supposed to share, idiot,” Iris mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat. “I won’t be the only one eating here.”

“Ooh,” he smirks, “Is this a date, perhaps?”

“I’m leaving - “

“Aw, c’mon, c’mon, stay,” Lillium whines, holding out one of his hands to grab his wrist as he tries to rise from his seat, flushing furiously.

He sits back down, breath coming out in small huffs, “...You’ll get another job, Lillium, okay? Soon you can be the #1 Chef and Begonia will throw a party or something.”

Lillium sticks a forkful of omelette in his mouth, chewing for a moment before answering, “It’s not kind to lie to people who care about you.”

Iris looks at him, slightly annoyed, “I’m not a liar. You won’t be winning any beauty competitions, Mr. White, but you can cook, alright? Stop being all emo, it’s creeping me out.”

“Says the ultimate emo,” Lillium bites back, but his smile seems a little more honest.

“Have you seen your clothes?”

“Have you seen your hair?”

Lillium snorts, “Rude, my hair is fabulous.”

It’s getting late; so much that he’s guaranteed a scolding from the people at the centre, if not being grounded for this weekend. He should really, really go, before they get truly mad and take his sketchbook away. Living alone is much lonelier without his sketchbook.

But, after a short while, when there’s only small bites of the omelette on the plate and Iris has already given up trying to finish it, Lillium’s hand settles over his hesitantly, trembling a little. He says, “Thank you.”

Iris stays.

…

They end up in the bedroom; and it’s one of the few times Iris has ever been inside the place. Despite the fact that Lillium’s lived alone ever since he met him, he’s still got a double bed “for overnight visitors”, or that’s what he claims.

Lillium rests his back against the headboard, and Iris lies down next to him, leaning his head on his shoulder and looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t protest when Lillium links their hands together, or when he gently nudges closer to him, in a move so terribly unsubtle and telling that it’s almost cute that he seems so nervous.

It’s weird, knowing that Lillium wants him there. Iris can barely manage to cover up his scars with his clothes, he’s a mess in school in almost every subject, he’s dry and sarcastic with people he doesn’t know very well and he’s a guy who likes other guys, possibly at the same time. At first, he thought maybe Lillium wanted to have hook up with him, but, even though the guy can’t have five minutes without an innuendo, he’s never made any move to touch him in a way that’s not reassuring or affectionate, instead of sexual.

“You’re going to regret this so much tomorrow,” Lillium whispers into his hair, his voice giddy. “But I’m milking it.”

Iris sighs dramatically, mock-offended, and moves his head up to kiss his cheek, so quickly he’s not quite sure he’s actually done it. Next to him, Lillium freezes.

“Now, I’m dead,”  he murmurs, and the touch of his lips against his scalp makes him shiver.

“Shut up,” Iris pokes him in the shoulder. “I’m the one who’s going to die when I get back to the fostering centre. If I’m not out in three days, you’ll know I’m not coming back.”

“I’ll have an omelette made in honour of your death,” Lillium teases, and Iris shuts his eyes.

Fin.

[recentanimenews]

THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Gets Caught In A Sticky Web In Episodes 113-119

Welcome back to the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! I'm Carolyn Burke, and I'll be your host this week as we make our way through all 220 episodes of the original Naruto. Last week, we covered Episodes 106 - 112, where we slogged through the conclusion the Land Of Tea arc and watched Sasuke abandon his team in favor of Orochimaru (boo, Sasuke, boo) even while Sakura poured her heart out to try to get him to change his mind and stay.

  We continue our rewatch this week with Episodes 113 - 119 in which Naruto, Shikamaru, and the rest of the gang attempt to recover Sasuke from the clutches of evil while simultaneously further discovering each other's (and their own) individual jutsu and fighting styles, along with their uniquely important roles on the battlefield. And there's no better time for it, either. Because this go-around, these kids could very well be in the most danger they've ever had to face. Will they step up and survive, or crumble under the pressure? 

    We've got character development, spiders, and a stunningly fancy underground bathroom coming at ya this week! We'll dig into a few of our own introspective revelations and find out what each Crunchyroll Features team member brings to the table. We'll dig into our favorite jutsus, as well as singling out our favorite comedic Naruto moments.

  Let's check in with the Crunchyroll Features team and see what they thought about this week's batch of episodes.

    Shikamaru acknowledges that Choji thinks he is the weakest link. Others agree with this line of thinking, but Shikamaru seems to see Choji's worth. What do you think Shikamaru would see in you that your teammates might miss?

  Paul: I'm 33% social anxiety, 33% depression, and 33% Impostor Syndrome, so I don't really know what Shikamaru would see in me that I don't already see in myself. If sent on an important ninja mission, such as rescuing Sasuke from the clutches of a gang of super-powered weirdos, my first response would probably be to hide in a ditch and let the Earth reclaim me.

  Kevin: That I view myself as a pawn. As long as the leader has something for me to do, I will never give up and will follow any whatever order they give me, even if I don't necessarily understand the reasoning.

  Joseph: That's a tough question. I guess he might see that I'm really stubborn and won't back down from something once I've committed to it, which means I'm really likely to end up like Choji whether it has to do with this fight in particular or snatching the last chip from the bottom of the bag.

  David: That I'm most motivated and do my best work when given specific directives and goals.

  Noelle: This is a little tricky to answer, to tell the truth. If I had to think about it, I like to think I have good analytical skills, and I am very determined when I put my mind to something.

  Jared: I guess that I can be stubborn and not give up despite things looking bad, so that might work for him.

  Kara: This is a very clever way to get writers to say something nice about themselves. Also probably why it's so hard for most of us! He'd probably notice that I will risk wasting my time to salvage at least a tiny victory from the jaws of defeat... though "defeat" in my line of work is a lot more to do with missing files than actual death.

  Danni: This is literally the hardest question anyone has ever asked me.

    Neji is stepping up and showing he can keep a calm head and strategize in the middle of danger. Shikamaru is definitely noticing and rewards Neji with a leadership position because of it. What do you think about the dynamics of the students, how they interact with each when the chips are down? Would you have made the same decision or would you have appointed someone else?

Paul: I appreciate how all of the members of rival teams from Hidden Leaf Village pull together during this crisis, and I'm glad that they accept Shikamaru's planning without a bunch of egos getting in the way. It was especially gratifying to see that Neji has internalized the lessons he learned from being defeated by Naruto during the Chunin Exams. If I were put in Shikamaru's leadership position, it would be Hide in a Ditch City, 24/7, 365, though.

  Kevin: Honestly, I more think that Shikamaru appointed Neji as vice-leader because he was the obvious best choice. Both Naruto and Kiba are too hot-headed to think in tense situations, let alone lead, and Choji had already been left behind. As for the Genin interactions, I like that they are actually somewhat nuanced and call on each person's history with the others. Shikamaru has more inherent trust in Choji's abilities than anyone else, while Naruto believes in Neji because of their fight in the Chunin Exam.

  Joseph: It seems obvious since Neji is considered a genius, but I really love the introspection that came about with each individual student in these episodes. For Neji, who we've mostly seen as someone who falls right into the genius role, he actually seems somewhat burdened by it. He's surprised that people see someone as average as him as a genius. I just thought that was interesting. Shikamaru made wise decisions all around.

  David: It's an astute decision, and in combination with his choices and reasoning in the previous set of episodes, Shikamaru is finally proving there actually was something worth admiring in him. So much development all at once for these characters makes it kind of wash over me, but overall I'm enjoying how the show manages to wring these characters for all they're worth.

  Noelle: It's a logical choice, and I think it makes a fair amount of sense. Neji has clearly learned from his mistakes, and has the ability to keep a cool head during a crisis situation. For kids as young as them, that's not an ability many people have. Being able to recognize that during a pinch was a solid call.

  Jared: Neji makes the most sense to be the de facto second in command. He's supposed to be a genius and despite his loss to Naruto in the Chunin Exams, I don't think that's necessarily knocked that moniker away from him. Naruto has probably had more experience recently in circumstances like they're in, but his tactical prowess and ability to make calm and collected decisions is questionable at times which would knock him down a bit. So yeah, it was the right call to make.

  Kara: This goes back to why I thought Shikamaru was a shoo-in for Chunin rank. Everyone's aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses, but Shikamaru doesn't have the baggage of ego or anything to prove to go with it. Considering I tend to be a lot more like Naruto when it comes to being fighty and having something to prove, I would probably not in the heat of the moment have made the same decision. And I would have been wrong.

  Danni: I think Neji was the most obvious choice for the role. His ability to remain calm under pressure is pretty comparable to Shikamaru's, especially in the wake of the lessons he learned from fighting Naruto. I have a lot more respect for him now after that fight than before. Also, I'm glad Choji got some time in the spotlight finally.

    Neji seemed to have some very close calls in this episode. Do you feel like stakes are being raised? Are these ninjas-in-training in more danger than when we first started watching? How do you think they're handling that?

Paul: I keep seeing pictures of most of the main cast as grown-ups in various social media posts related to Boruto, so I know that no matter how thickly they lay on the "this kid just died heroically for the sake of his friends" paint, none of them are actually in mortal danger. Plot armor aside, seeing Neji and Choji get beaten to within an inch of their life still evokes a strong emotional reaction from me. Aside from that, I think the show has done a good job amping up the drama.

  Kevin: They're definitely in more danger than early on, simply by not expecting any backup and not having a Jonin around to save them. If they are outclassed, it's up to them to figure out how to not die. As for how they're handling it, in some ways I wish they were more frazzled. Everyone is just taking it in stride that they may die, and two of them have already finished their fights near death at best. Even if they've been on a bunch of missions before, this is the first time we've seen them as just Genin with a Chunin leader. Seeing a bit more psychological strain of realizing how high the stakes are would be a nice bit of realism.

  Joseph: I kind of wish Choji and Neji's fights didn't end so similarly. Obviously, the emotions within were different, and Choji's was particularly poignant, but they both survived by the skin of their teeth and were more or less presumed dead in the same way.

  David: It's weird, because I very much love how Choji's little arc was handled and felt like the emotion at the end was earned. On the other hand, Neji's is also good but it feels like the show is trying way too hard to convince us he might actually die here. It never feels like it would actually happen, at least this early with so much left unexplored, but the scenes where he's on the brink feel like they last forever. So, it's a mixed bag.

  Noelle: As a kid, I was more concerned, but as an adult, I know the drill. Shows like these rarely commit to killing off their characters, and I remember Neji being decently popular at the time. It's too risky a move to kill people off. While I do think that comparatively, the stakes are absolutely being raised, with kids going out on a life-threatening mission, I know it's not going to end that badly. Bad, but not the worst possible outcome.

  Jared: The stakes are much much higher for most of these characters since we haven't really seen them in this kind of danger before. Everyone outside of Naruto hasn't had to deal with these kinds of enemies yet within the context of what the show has presented us. So, it makes sense that even someone like Neji is struggling with a much tougher opponent compared to what he's used to. Although it was kind of odd how they seemed to structure both Choji and Neji's fights to be very similar with how they'd get the upper hand, their enemy would recapture momentum, here's a second form, and then both were spent by the end of it.

  Kara: The stakes are higher for sure. But to revisit what Paul said, I'm not sure how I feel about the dramatic "death" scenes. Even if we didn't have Boruto now telling us who grows up and has kids and stuff, I don't think I like those scenes playing out only for a "just kidding" later. I love seeing the characters grow and realize what they value in what they think are their last moments, but now every time I see a sad death scene and hear that flute music I'm just gonna be like "Ah, it's fine, they'll wake up in the hospital."

  Danni: Listen, it's a shonen anime. Is anyone really ever dead in a shonen anime?

    Spiderwebs! We've seen some interesting jutsu on this show, but spiderwebs seems icky and sticky enough. What did you think of this scene? Has your favorite jutsu changed since we started rewatching the show?

Paul: As far as Ninjutsu go, "Literally Spider-Man" is pretty powerful. I'm not terribly arachnophobic, but between the sound effects and the visuals of Kidomaru spitting up his silk, I got pretty grossed out, although it made for a thrilling fight. My favorite Jutsu so far is still Kakashi's Sharingan-enhanced Jutsu copying skills.

  Kevin: I'm not very arachnophobic, but throughout the first half of Neji's fight, I was continuously thinking "that's WAY too many spiders!" As for a favorite jutsu, if we're including all jutsu from all disciplines I really like he Eight Inner Gates. Something that theoretically everyone can obtain and which has an inherent progression system that lets you throttle the power. If we are restricted to ninjutsu, then probably the Shadow Clone jutsu because of all of the utility that we'll find out about later.

  Joseph: Gosh, I can't even think of my favorite jutsu right now. There've been so many, but I guess I still prefer the earlier bugs to these bugs. I was kind of bored by the Neji fight, to be honest, and I didn't see the sudden appearance of a giant spider as much of a threat. I actually thought it might have just been an illusion at first.

  David: I don't think anything can faze me after Shino's brand of bug jutsu, that's Peak Yikes.

  Noelle: I love spiders! Spiders are cute! So no, there's no creep-out factor for me. I still think Gaara's sand is still a fave of mine though.

  Jared: I'm so glad I'm not Neji when he had so many spiders raining down on him as I would've just noped the heck out of there immediately.

  Kara: I thought the spiderwebs would be my biggest "Nope," but Kidomaru just horking up golden arrows like some sort of weird Mary Poppins carpetbag thing got me worse.

  Danni: It's gotten weird. I honestly can't understand why that guy had six arms and the ability to secrete spiderwebs. That can't just be a chakra thing, right? Seriously, they're really glossing over the fact that guy somehow has six arms.

    Shikamaru saying it would be dumb to rush into confrontation and being cut off by Naruto's "Hey jerk!" is completely hilarious. What are some other comedic beats you've been a fan of? Do you think putting these one-liners in the middle of intense scenes works? Or does it ruin the flow of a battle arc?

Paul: I'm still a fan of Naruto getting caught in a snare trap, freeing himself, then getting caught again immediately in another snare trap, and I suspect we haven't seen the last of the dreaded One Thousand Years of Death attack. The moments of levity (even in high-stakes situations) are nice because they give the audience breathing room. I personally don't want my shonen shows to be dark and depressing all of the time.

  Kevin: Naruto including both funny and touching moments in the middle of tense situations is one of the parts of the franchise that I really like. The timing isn't always perfect, but it stops the show from staying too dark for long, or adding extra context to give weight to the situation. It becomes a problem when that weight takes an entire mini-arc in the middle of something much more important, but for one-liners or short flashback scenes, it's generally pretty effective.

  Joseph: Naruto's comedy is at its best when it's mixed in with the action. When an entire episode relies on it, it totally falls flat, but I love moments like this. They're what makes Naruto Naruto! I wish I could remember more specific comedic beats throughout the series but I'm old and we're over 100 episodes in.

  David: Comedy is important to keeping the tone of a show like this in check. It's especially important here exactly because of moments like the one mentioned; Naruto himself is a hothead and frequently bad at reading the room, but that part of his personality absolutely has to land for the big story beats to work, too. In that sense, I don't just like the jokes, but find them vital to the show's success.

  Noelle: I think it works just fine. The issue with a lot of comedy in action scenes is that it detracts from the situation at hand, lowering the tension. Most of the time, that's usually not a good thing. In this case, you need comedy because the scenes are so serious- being overly serious hurts a show equally so. While the jokes can be hit or miss, that they exist I don't think is much of an issue.

  Jared: It's interesting because moments like that absolutely work as this brief instance of comic relief, without it taking away from the seriousness of the situation. Sometimes the show can get a bit overboard when it's trying to do comedy for a whole episode and that doesn't work, but when it's utilized in situations like here where we know Naruto would totally do something like this, it can help as a nice little breather in between everything being super tense.

  Kara: When it's good, it's very very good. When they go for a completely wacky episode/set of episodes it's A Lot, but when they sprinkle the humor in amidst the action it's just excellent. I'm still a fan of Naruto showing up triumphantly during the second stage of the Chunin Exam forgetting the password just as predicted. More recently, I love the little song he sings as he swoops over Tayuya's head in this last set of episodes.

  Danni: If nothing else, it's a clear and concise summary of his entire character. I can 100% believe someone who shouts "Hey jerk!" in that situation is also someone who makes a diversion attack only to completely negate the purpose of the diversion by shouting "Above you!" before attacking from above. Also, my favorite comedic beat is still Sasuke finding out Itachi is back because some grunt runs into the room shouting about Itachi. It probably wasn't supposed to be funny, but it still makes me laugh.

    And, of course, what were your high and low points for the week?

Paul: My high point was Akimichi Choji stomping a mudhole in Jirobo, because Choji's my favorite supporting lad and this is his first real moment in the spotlight. My low point was Orochimaru's arms going fully necrotic. They really leaned into the body horror elements in these episodes. I'm not super squeamish, but I wasn't mentally prepared for that.

  Kevin: High - Choji's fight. As the fat kid who was never picked first for any sport (and only not picked last because I would literally stand in front of someone running at me to stop them), Choji's entire backstory and moment of triumph really struck a chord with me, both when I was a kid and even now. Low - The start of Tayuya and Shikamaru's fight. Naruto, don't just stand there, run away so she can't stop you! Shikamaru, why did you wait so long to try to Shadow Possess Tayuya? Tayuya, why did you take so long to react to literally everything that happened in that moment? I'm sure that it was just a quick cutaway in the manga, but if it was it didn't translate to animation well.

  Joseph: High: I really enjoyed Choji's fight, and the end to it--regardless of how permanent it really ends up being--was beautiful. Low: My dude Orochimaru is living in a series of interconnected caves. Forget the ninja closed-circuit TV, I'm more baffled by the fact that he had someone come in and grout and tile a custom shower for his bony ass.

  David: Agreed on Choji's fight being the best part this week. Similarly, though, my low point was the Neji fight in general, because it felt like the same sort of fight but with a lot less punch.

  Noelle: High point: Choji getting some screentime and owning it. He needed his time in the limelight. Low point: I'm enjoying the Neji fight a lot less than I used to, which is a shame.

  Jared: My high point would probably be like everyone else so far in seeing Choji finally get his moment to shine. Orochimaru's lavish underground bunker was hilarious given how furnished it looked with a very nice bathroom, a technologically sound lab, and then a random prison in there as well. Low point might be just how the Neji fight was a bit too similar to the Choji fight in terms of structure which led it to not feel as impactful.

  Kara: Ordering the same as everyone else at this table. Choji's fight was intense and definitely the high point of the week. It was cool seeing what he could do beyond Fat Kid from Hook no Jutsu. Low point is just knowing how weird it's gonna feel watching any dramatic alleged death scene going forward and wondering if they're just gonna be fine in five minutes.

  Danni: High point is a tie between Choji's final punch and Neji showing off he has the coolest fighting style in the entire show. There wasn't really a singular low point for me, just a feeling of sluggishness in every episode that dragged down this whole batch of episodes for me. They just felt too slow.

    COUNTERS:

Bowls of Ramen: 0 bowls

“I'm Gonna be Hokage!”: 0

Shadow Clones Created: 9 + 1 uncountable scene

  Total so far:

Bowls of Ramen: 42 bowls, 3 cups

“I'm Gonna be Hokage!”: 52

Shadow Clones Created: 352

  And that's everything for this week! Remember that you're always welcome to join us for this rewatch, especially if you haven't watched the original Naruto! Watch Naruto today!

  Here's our upcoming schedule:

- May 17th, we'll visit the Valley of the End with JARED CLEMONS.

- May 24th, NICOLE MEJIAS plays referee for Naruto vs. Sasuke, Round 2!

-May 31st, NOELLE OGAWA will start us off on a journey back into the land of filler.

  CATCH UP ON THE REWATCH!

Episodes 106-112: Sasuke Goes Rogue

Episodes 99-105: Trouble in the Land of Tea

Episodes 92-98: Clash of the Sannin

Episodes 85-91: A Life-Changing Decision

Episodes 78-84: The Fall of a Legend

Episodes 71-77: Sands of Sorrow

Episodes 64-70: Crashing the Chunin Exam

Episodes 57-63: Family Feud

Episodes 50-56: Rock Lee Rally

Episodes 43-49: The Gate

Episodes 36-42: Through the Woods

Episodes 29-35: Sakura Unleashed

Episodes 22-28: Chunin Exams Kickoff

Episodes 15-21: Leaving the Land of Waves

Episodes 8-14: Beginners' Battle

Episodes 1-7: I'm Gonna Be the Hokage!

Thank you for joining us for the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! Have a great weekend, and we'll see you all next time!

Have anything to say about our thoughts on Episodes 113-119? Let us know in the comments! Don't forget, we're also accepting questions and comments for next week, so don't be shy and feel free to ask away!

----

Carolyn Burke also writes for Bunny Ears and Cracked. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[thrashermaxey]

Top 10 Biggest Fantasy Hockey Disappointments of 2018-19

  Expectations. That one word sums up everything to do with fantasy hockey.

Did the players you drafted/traded for live up to your expectations? If the majority of them did, you are probably celebrating a championship right now. If they didn’t, odds are you are in draft lottery.

Listed below are 10 players that didn’t live up to expectations. First, a little background. Last year, I compared projections of almost 300 players from 13 different prognosticators. To figure out who was the most disappointing, I looked at the average of all 13 predictions and compared them to the final point numbers of this season.

A total of 26 players finished at least 20 points lower than their average projection.

Also remember projections are not created equal. One list of projections was based on every single player playing all 82 games, while the majority of projections still listed Erik Karlsson in Ottawa. 

For the list below, I eliminated players that were only disappointing because they missed too much time to injuries (so no Taylor Hall). However, injuries can still be an influence, just not the sole factor (think Max Pacioretty).

  10. James Neal

My brother is a huge Flames fan, and at one point this season, I texted him asking if James Neal was the worst free agent signing of last summer, or the worst of the past 10 years? Neal has been an utter disappointment and is certainly not worth the five-year deal that sees him being paid almost $6 million a year. It’s not like fantasy general managers were expecting a 70-point season, but many were hopeful that he could flirt with 50 points. Instead, Neal had just 19 points (29 less than the projected average), played less than 15 minutes a game and was stuck in the bottom six.

  9. Vincent Trocheck

Part of Trocheck’s issues this past year are related to his broken ankle, but even when he was in the lineup, he wasn’t producing as many expected. After he finished as the Panthers second-leading point producer in 2017-18, many prognosticators thought he was going to hit the 70-point mark (that was his average point projection). Instead, he wound up with 34. Just to show it’s not just the lack of games, his 0.62 points-per-game (51 points over 82 games) is his lowest in four seasons.

  8. Jaden Schwartz

Let’s be honest. No one thought Schwartz was going to repeat his 2017-18 season, when he put up basically a point-per-game with 59 points in 62 games. However, most experts thought he would be able to reach the 60-point plateau. That obviously didn’t happen, as Schwartz finished with 36 points. However, it took a while for him to struggle. Schwartz had 14 points in his first 19 games, but the Blues were a mess. Eventually, the Blues started rolling, but Schwartz cooled off, with 22 points in his last 50 games.

  7. Ryan Getzlaf

Almost everything about the Ducks was awful this year, and Getzlaf’s production of 48 points was a big disappointment. Sure, he missed 15 games, but he’s been injured many times throughout his career and he still managed to perform when in the lineup. His 0.72 points-per-game this year is the lowest since 2011-12 and the third lowest of his last 12 seasons. Projections for Getzlaf were pretty consistent with an average prediction of 69 points.

  6. William Nylander

Starting the season as a holdout made it tough on projections (although the projections averaged 67 points), but many figured he would only be out a couple of days to a couple of weeks. Instead, he missed two months of action. Then when he did sign, it was assumed he was going to get back onto the Auston Matthews line. That didn’t happen with any frequency and Nylander struggled to put up points. His ice time (15:31) and points-per-game (0.5) are the lowest of his career, and he wound up playing more five-on-five minutes with Nazem Kadri instead of Matthews.

  5. P.K. Subban

Nashville somehow got to 100 points while only one player cracked 60 points. It was a down year for many Preds, and Subban is easily the most disappointing of the group (although Filip Forsberg’s 50 points comes awfully close). Subban was injured for 19 games, but even when in the lineup, he only managed 0.49 points per game, his worst since 2011-12. His ice time was down 1:20 per game, and his power-play time was down 30 seconds per game. He wound up with 31 points, much lower than the 54 that was the average prediction.

  4. Clayton Keller

Not much went right for the Coyotes this season. Max Domi was awesome in Montreal while Alex Galchenyuk was 16 points below his average projection. Nick Schmaltz was 29 points below his average projection but missed most of the season with a lower-body injury. Antti Raanta struggled at the start of the year and eventually missed most of the season due to injury. Then there’s Keller, the second-year player that took a major step back, finishing with 47 points, 25 points below his average projection. Much of his issues may have been that the team had trouble keeping a regular lineup of players, but one power-play goal from the Coyotes star isn’t going to cut it.

  3. Shayne Gostisbehere

The Flyers top defenseman surely didn’t look like it this year. While it’s still early in his career, he has all the makings of a Vinny Prospal: Great one season and awful the next. This year was an awful season. Most thought he would see a slight decrease from his 65 points last year, but everyone was still bullish on him with an average points projection of 59. Just to break down how far he fell, in 2017-18, he had 33 power-play points. This year, he had 37 points total.

  2. Jamie Benn

What a kick in the teeth it’s been for Benn owners this year. There’s been nothing redeeming about his fantasy play as he struggled in almost every fantasy category imaginable. His 53 points is his lowest non-lockout season since his rookie campaign in 2009-10 and his ice time was the lowest in eight years. Compared to 2017-18, Benn saw a decrease in goals, assists, plus/minus, power-play goals and power-play assists. His shot total was also ridiculously lower (he went from 241 shots to 189). Several had Benn pegged for 80 points and his average was 77. He’s the perfect buy-low candidate: An elite player that is getting older (he’ll be 30 when the season starts in October), so many will be looking away from Benn and focusing more on younger players.

  1. Patrik Laine

There was a lot of uncertainty in Laine’s game this season. He spent some time on the fourth line. His shooting percentage was down. His plus-minus was an awful minus-24. Worst yet, he hit 50 points exactly, which made him basically droppable in most points-only leagues (seriously, you would have been better off with Phillip Danault). Everyone thought Laine was a shoo-in for at least 70 points, with one guide projecting 90 points. On average, 76 points was expected. His 30 goals looked to be decent, until you remember that he scored 18 of them in a 12-game stretch just before December. After that, he potted nine goals in 58 games. This year’s Dobby Award winner for Second-Half Swoon Award also tops the Biggest Fantasy Disappointment list.

  from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-home/fantasy-hockey-top-10/top-10-biggest-fantasy-hockey-disappointments-of-2018-19/

[kalimarsdreamlog]

Dream 146: Kidnapped From School

Well first of all I'm pretty sure it was heavily influenced by the fanfiction I was reading last night. Which is fine. It's a good story and it gave me more powers than usual.

The dream started right after my family and I moved and I didn't know the new neighborhood very well yet. Despite graduating recently I still had to go to school, and I was paranoid I was going to miss the bus as usual. I couldn't remember what time it was supposed to arrive and I needed to shower. I knew I had gotten up at six something, so I told myself I'd be outside by 7:10 just to be safe. I didn't need to make mom even madder by missing it on the first day. I looked down at my watch to see how much time I had; It was 6:58. Whyyyyyyyyyy?! I brushed my hair and hurriedly threw my backpack on from the previous year and hoped I'd have everything I needed. But I still needed to shower...

The bus arrived at that moment, but I had to go back inside to get something I had forgotten. I eventually realized I had taken too long and the bus had left without me. Oops. So I showered anyway and flew to school so my mom wouldn't notice I had indeed missed it again.

When I got there I saw that I wasn't late after all. Much like graduation, there was a giant line of students outside the building waiting to get schedules. Turns out everyone was behind.

I'm pretty sure that was the only good luck I had the entire time.

When I finally received my schedule I didn't know how to read it. The classes were listed with strange names and big logos and they weren't even in order, so I couldn't find what room I had to be in when.

After roaming the school for who knows how long, I managed to find the front office to ask where I was supposed to be. Before the man I asked could answer one of the ladies I wasn't talking to saw me and was like, "oh yeah! Your mom called ahead and said you'd need all the information expressly detailed! Here it is!" And she gave me a heavy bag full of papers. It was a bit insulting, but at least I could probably find a better organized schedule.

The school had the same floor plan as the hotel from our vacation, so even though I didn't know all the classrooms I did know all the hiding places, exits, and pathways in between.

On top of flight I had intangibility, invisibility, and some creation powers, in order from least to most draining. I also had perfect control over my balance and coordination for a change. My flight powers boosted my jumping abilities. I could jump over counters, tables, people, railings, any of that with little effort. Sometime in the dream I hopped a counter to get out of a restaurant and a mother panicked when it looked like I was going to land on her kid, but I grabbed a window ledge and stopped my momentum easily despite the horrible leverage my arm should have gotten from that angle. The ability proved useful for keeping me out of trouble on multiple occasions.

I was finally getting to class when I was ambushed. My attackers were using classic weapons of course because that's how my dreams are now and they also didn't want to make as much noise. Using the element of surprise they got me in the chest with an arrow, distracting me enough to be unable to use my powers. Before I could gather my thoughts (or regain consciousness) I was already captured and being taken to, ah, wherever they were taking me.

When I next became aware of my surroundings I was tied up outside a barn-like house surrounded by grass as far as the eye could see. Seeing that there was no one around, I turned intangible, letting my bonds just fall away and then went invisible so my captors wouldn't see me fly off. Only the son noticed before I had completely vanished, but I was already too high up for him to do anything about it.

I flew for the next while back to the school. Here, my knowledge of the hotel building's layout came in handy since I needed to find a way in unnoticed. I was trying to conserve the use of my powers so that I wouldn't be recognized by them. Rumors of super powers would flush me out faster than you could say "invisible."

I poked around the outer doors to find a way in. The first floor doors were locked because those were the ones that regular strangers could use to come into the building. On the second floor balconies the first door was locked as well, probably connected to a classroom. My assumption was confirmed when the rattling of the door scared the crap out of the students inside and I heard gasps and a few shrieks and some exclaimed questions.

Before the teacher could investigate I jumped to the next balcony. This door looked to be open just a bit. I peeked in a saw some teachers in a meeting. That wouldn't do. Moving on to the next door I was about ready to screw not using my powers and just go in and hope no one in the hall saw me turn visible again, but this door was unlocked and opened into a weird cafeteria. I figured that it was around my lunchtime anyway. But these kids all looked a lot younger than me and I was getting funny looks from the teacher (it looked like I had been on the balcony since the last class period to her) so I sheepishly scurried out before she could ask any more questions.

Finding my bag where I had dropped it when I was attacked, I took out my schedule to figure out where my next class was. I considered skipping and just running away, but if I had to continue going to school I needed to make a better effort to make more decent impressions than that.

Just as I made it to the right room after getting turned around a few times, (just because the hotel had the same layout doesn't mean I knew the room numbers!) I saw one of the people who had kidnapped me before. I guess going back to the same building they had found me in before wasn't smart, but how had they gotten back so quickly?!

The man was talking to a teacher and asking of my whereabouts. I turned tail and fled the other direction. Flight being my least draining power and my jumping skills being the least suspicious, i switched floors via jumping atrium balconies and stairway railings in several places.

As I was skating past the front entrance, even though I wasn't wearing rollerblades anymore (slippery floors?), I saw my brother come in through the front office holding a box of donuts. Apparently he had remembered that I hadn't eaten breakfast and wanted to give me a better day than my mom was likely to. I took the box and shooed him away before my kidnappers could magically notice that he was connected to me in some way and put him in danger too.

Then the bell rang for passing period and the hallways flooded with students. I saw the man I was running from emerge from the way I had come, so I shoved the donut box in the nearest person's hands and ran.

Hoping I could use the crowd as cover I kept my head down and stayed grounded. Up ahead I saw Savanna entering a bathroom. Ignoring the question of why she was going to this school if I was the one who moved, I ran to catch up and used a bit of intangibility to slip in behind her. She was very confused and baffled as to why I would follow her into a bathroom but I just shushed her and said I was being chased.

We hid in the largest stall. It was embarrassing, but I was hoping my pursuer wouldn't actually look in the girls' bathroom. If he did surely he would be noticed and thrown out of the building. We held our breath as the door opened. I saw eyes peeking above the wall of the stall, and got ready to fight until I realized—seriously?! They were peeping toms! Just a couple of nosy males who wanted to know why we were both in the same stall. Figuring I had caused enough trouble for Savanna and knowing as soon as the rumors started my hiding place would be blown, I muttered an apology and backed intangibly into the next room.

I ran from the classroom I had phased into and re-entered the hallway, acting like a student about the be late for class. Entering the next wing, I saw the closing doors of an elevator and slipped in before they fully closed. Perfect. Now I'd have at least one floor between me and the creep chasing me. I decided to go to the third floor. Then realized I had overshot the room I had stashed some stuff in (I was actually confused and remembering my hotel room instead of the school) and had to go back to the elevator to try to get back to floor two.

Before I got far though something about the idea set alarm bells off in my head, so I followed my instincts and went a different way. By this time the halls were clearing because class was about to start. I was stopped by a hall monitor (let's call him Phil) who asked where I was supposed to be. I showed him my schedule and told him I had no idea, and upon seeing my confusion he kindly offered to walk me to my next class. I didn't have an excuse to decline, so I had no choice but to follow.

He noticed how jumpy I was and when he asked I told him I was hiding from someone. He responded as if it was our inside joke. I felt calm around him. Maybe because he didn't know the seriousness of the situation. I ended up spilling out all the events of the day and he did his part to keep the conversation light. In the short time we were walking I was sure I had made a new friend.

All was going well until my horrible luck intervened once again and the breezeway was blocked by two people wielding long thin stabby things. Of course: the men who had kidnapped me before. Their blades were so thin that they were hard to see, so to any onlooker nothing appeared to be amiss.

Phil was about to give a friendly greeting when I saw them tense slightly, and I knew things were about to get bad. There was a flash and I reacted as quickly as I possibly could, pulling Phil backwards while also turning him intangible. The power took just an instant too long to take effect, so he still got stabbed by the needle-like blade, but it was only about an inch deep instead of all the way through like it was through him intangibly now.

Pulling him behind me, I used my creation powers in a fit of rage to create a thin stabby blade of my own and slashed the one who had attacked Phil across the stomach. "NO ONE hurts my friends in front of me!" I seethed.

The one I attacked screamed and stumbled back, tripping and falling on his butt. He'd live. It wasn't that deep of a cut. The first man I had been running from gritted his teeth in anger, but recognized we were even and didn't retaliate. Instead, he proposed a bargain: if I wanted my friend not to get further injuries then I would come with him without struggle.

Being taken back to the house in the fields, I was kept under better watch and not allowed to flee this time. I don't really know what they wanted with me. The first man was sort of like the head of the house. The second struck me as a family friend and there was also a son and an older girl who was either an older daughter or sister or wife or something. I have no idea what her role was.

I was given a couple kinds of food and permission to use the kitchen to cook for myself. I made myself as difficult as possible of course, combining my flight and creation powers to make some form of telekinesis. Desperate times mean new powers I guess? I would toss objects around at the family and then say I was aiming for the trash (score haha) or didn't have control over my new power yet.

Though their rules were strict and I was being held against my will it was almost like they were trying to be nice to me. The vacation with my real family had been worse than this!

I was planning an escape one day after I had been given a new batch of eggs for the first time. The son, who Megan and I have dubbed Alf, was the one who was supposed to keep an eye on me that day. He was only a couple years older than me and had the best set of morals in the house. If he knew it was wrong then he wouldn't allow it, but living with the family he did he didn't always know when something was wrong. It was probably the only reason he was going along with this whole kidnapping thing.

I knew he would be the easiest one to catch off-guard and the least likely to retaliate, being the youngest and hopefully the most naïve. I forced myself not to feel bad for what I was about to do. This was wrong and I needed out, and he was the enemy and I shouldn't feel bad for doing what i had to. The last thing I needed was Stockholm syndrome.

Using my secretly perfected telekinesis, I tossed two egg yolks at his eyes and an uncracked egg down his throat, hopefully disorienting him enough that he wouldn't be able to follow my escape nor warn his family. I started to run when I saw him trying desperately to cough the egg out of his mouth and I heard a crack. I stopped. I really didn't like the idea of making his throat bleed because that could be fatal and I wasn't trying to kill anyone.

Sigh.

I started trying to use telekinesis to get the pieces of eggshell out of his throat without scraping it, but as soon as Alf felt the pieces move of their own accord he panicked and started clawing at his throat with his hands. His flailing was causing his esophagus to squeeze and move because it was getting pressed on, and at the rate he was going he was going to cause the shell to go all slasher movie regardless of my help.

Uuuuugh I was going to get caught and be in so much trouble for this! I flew back over to him grabbed his arms so he'd quit flailing and told him to stop, explaining that I was going to try to get the egg shells out with the least damage possible and he wouldn't be able to do that without my help. He had his eyes shut tight because of the yolks I had thrown at them earlier, and at first he thought he was getting attacked again until my words finally sunk in.

Letting go of his arms because I needed my hands free to use my powers the best, I slowly got everything out and tossed it down the sink. I gave him a towel to wipe his eyes with. I might as well at this point.

Footsteps were heard coming towards the kitchen. I froze and looked at Alf with wide eyes. If I left now he'd give away what direction I'd gone, but if I stayed and he told any part of this to his father there'd be hell to pay. So far they didn't know anything was wrong because the egg had prevented him from making a sound, but there was no reason to think he wouldn't talk this over with anyone later. Decision made, I grabbed him, covered his mouth, turned us both invisible and intangible and flew away.

I flew in a different direction than the school this time so hopefully his family would be looking in the wrong place for us once they realized we were gone. At this point school no longer mattered to me and returning to my family seemed unlikely at best.

As we flew I let go of the intangibility, opting just to stay invisible to conserve energy. Once we were far enough away I took my hand away from Alf's mouth and was hit with a barrage of questions. My goal was to get as far away as possible, so I had time to tell him the whole story and still make a game plan for when we landed. As I had predicted of his morals, once he found out that I had actually been kidnapped and held against my will rather than apprehended and given a second chance under observation like he'd been told, he was pretty willing to help me out despite going against his own family.

With that worked out we worked together to figure out what to do from there. We settled on finding an empty building in the next city we came upon and opening up a store that his family would never consider shopping at. My creation powers could make the merchandise to start us off and then we'd have an alibi and not look like homeless or runaway adolescents.

Doing just that, we opened up a simple furniture store with a name being something along the lines of Lazy Comfort. Alf's family was pretty old-world, not only using old weapons but old living methods. They liked to build their own furniture, so buying tables and recliners and fancy cushions was highly unlikely. A fish store might have been more fun, but I couldn't create living things.

I filled the front room with tables and then made another wing for the store, one wall covered in pillows, cushions and textiles to choose from and the other walls and floor cluttered with love-seats and couches and cushy chairs in general. I would have done away with the tables as they were somewhat mediocre and random, and had only been so simple in the first place due to my inexperience at creating a whole inventory at once, but customers were starting to walk in and I was out of juice.

After appearifying the last couch I slumped into Alf, informing him that that was all I could make for now. He was decidedly unimpressed, getting the impression from his father that there WERE no limits to my power, but after an incredulous remark he said nothing else about it. (Admittedly, I never had much reason to use my powers to their full extent during my stay with Alf's weird-ass family. Not that he was a saint either, as you can see he was still pretty judgmental)

Not wanting to make our impromptu partnership more uncomfortable than it already was, I mustered the strength to straighten up and went behind the register to lean on the counter, (with a display of charm bracelets for the bored ladies looking for furniture with their husbands) watching the ebb and flow of customers. First day, no prior advertising, and we were already pretty busy. Hopefully our inexperience wouldn't show. Best of all there was no sign of my kidnappers. I was finally in the clear!

End of dream!

Random tidbits:

It took three major waves of my creation powers to fill the store. One for the tables, one for the second wing and one for the merchandise in that wing. 

It's probably a good thing I didn't make beds because I doubted Alf's family could make their own mattresses.

It was a perfect idea to run a store selling couches because it meant we could use them to sleep on at night.

There were more buttons on the elevator than there were floors in the school, including a -4 and -2 button.

My mom was really freaking tired of my creation powers.

I really did have to use the "I got lost" excuse when confronted with some counselors whose back room I had appeared in, which was adjoining to their meeting room. They were not amused.

I finally got the guts to use the ear-pulling thing against one of my attackers. Pretty sure it was the father. (It only takes four pounds of pressure to tear off an ear. Scary, but useful in bad situations)

Creating the store's inventory and extra wing drained me so much that I couldn't even go properly invisible. I freaked out the first two customers who came in (young women) when they saw me semi-transparent and thought I was a ghost.

Okay so in this dream I mentioned a couple of times that my mom was unpleasant. This in no way reflects real life. Just thought I’d make that clear. 

Table of Contents

FAQ

[readbookywooks]

25. When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta. Happiness, of course, is a complete absurdity at this point, since at the rate things are going, I'll be dead in a day. And that's the best-case scenario, if I'm able to eliminate the rest of the field, including myself, and get Peeta crowned as the winner of the Quarter Quell. Still, the sensation's so unexpected and sweet I cling to it, if only for a few moments. Before the gritty sand, the hot sun, and my itching skin demand a return to reality. Everyone's already up and watching the descent of a parachute to the beach. I join them for another delivery of bread. It's identical to the one we received the night before. Twenty-four rolls from District 3. That gives us thirty-three in all. We each take five, leaving eight in reserve. No one says it, but eight will divide up perfectly after the next death. Somehow, in the light of day, joking about who will be around to eat the rolls has lost its humor. How long can we keep this alliance? I don't think anyone expected the number of tributes to drop so quickly. What if I am wrong about the others protecting Peeta? If things were simply coincidental, or it's all been a strategy to win our trust to make us easy prey, or I don't understand what's actually going on? Wait, there's no ifs about that. I don't understand what's going on. And if I don't, it's time for Peeta and me to clear out of here. I sit next to Peeta on the sand to eat my rolls. For some reason, it's difficult to look at him. Maybe it was all that kissing last night, although the two of us kissing isn't anything new. It might not even have felt any different for him. Maybe it's knowing the brief amount of time we have left. And how we're working at such cross-purposes when it comes to who should survive these Games. After we eat, I take his hand and tug him toward the water. "Come on. I'll teach you how to swim." I need to get him away from the others where we can discuss breaking away. It will be tricky, because once they realize we're severing the alliance, we'll be instant targets. If I was really teaching him to swim, I'd make him take off the belt since it keeps him afloat, but what does it matter now? So I just show him the basic stroke and let him practice going back and forth in waist-high water. At first, I notice Johanna keeping a careful eye on us, but eventually she loses interest and goes to take a nap. Finnick's weaving a new net out of vines and Beetee plays with his wire. I know the time has come. While Peeta has been swimming, I've discovered something. My remaining scabs are starting to peel off. By gently rubbing a handful of sand up and down my arm, I clean off the rest of the scales, revealing fresh new skin underneath. I stop Peeta's practice, on the pretext of showing him how to rid himself of the itchy scabs, and as we scrub ourselves, I bring up our escape. "Look, the pool is down to eight. I think it's time we took off," I say under my breath, although I doubt any of the tributes can hear me. Peeta nods, and I can see him considering my proposition. Weighing if the odds will be in our favor. "Tell you what," he says. "Let's stick around until Brutus and Enobaria are dead. I think Beetee's trying to put together some kind of trap for them now. Then, I promise, we'll go." I'm not entirely convinced. But if we leave now, we'll have two sets of adversaries after us. Maybe three, because who knows what Chaff's up to? Plus the clock to contend with. And then there's Beetee to think of. Johanna only brought him for me, and if we leave she'll surely kill him. Then I remember. I can't protect Beetee, too. There can only be one victor and it has to be Peeta. I must accept this. I must make decisions based on his survival only. "All right," I say. "We'll stay until the Careers are dead. But that's the end of it." I turn and wave to Finnick. "Hey, Finnick, come on in! We figured out how to make you pretty again!" The three of us scour all the scabs from our bodies, helping with the others' backs, and come out the same pink as the sky. We apply another round of medicine because the skin seems too delicate for the sunlight, but it doesn't look half as bad on smooth skin and will be good camouflage in the jungle. Beetee calls us over, and it turns out that during all those hours of fiddling with wire, he has indeed come up with a plan. "I think we'll all agree our next job is to kill Brutus and Enobaria," he says mildly. "I doubt they'll attack us openly again, now that they're so outnumbered. We could track them down, I suppose, but it's dangerous, exhausting work." "Do you think they've figured out about the clock?" I ask. "If they haven't, they'll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have. But they must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they're reoccurring in a circular fashion. Also, the fact that our last fight was cut off by Gamemaker intervention will not have gone unnoticed by them. We know it was an attempt to disorient us, but they must be asking themselves why it was done, and this, too, may lead them to the realization that the arena's a clock," says Beetee. "So I think our best bet will be setting our own trap." "Wait, let me get Johanna up," says Finnick. "She'll be rabid if she thinks she missed something this important." "Or not," I mutter, since she's always pretty much rabid, but I don't stop him, because I'd be angry myself if I was excluded from a plan at this point. When she's joined us, Beetee shoos us all back a bit so he can have room to work in the sand. He swiftly draws a circle and divides it into twelve wedges. It's the arena, not rendered in-Peeta's precise strokes but in the rough lines of a man whose mind is occupied by other, far more complex things. "If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?" Beetee asks. There's nothing patronizing in his voice, and yet I can't help thinking he reminds me of a schoolteacher about to ease children into a lesson. Perhaps it's the age difference, or simply that Beetee is probably about a million times smarter than the rest of us. "Where we are now. On the beach," says Peeta. "It's the safest place." "So why aren't they on the beach?" says Beetee. "Because we're here," says Johanna impatiently. "Exactly. We're here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?" says Beetee. I think about the deadly jungle, the occupied beach. "I'd hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us." "Also to eat," Finnick says. "The jungle's full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I'd know the seafood's safe." Beetee smiles at us as if we've exceeded his expectations. "Yes, good. You do see. Now here's what I propose: a twelve o'clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?" "The lightning bolt hits the tree," I say. "Yes. So what I'm suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o'clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted," says Beetee. There's a long pause while we all digest Beetee's plan. It seems a bit fantastical to me, impossible even. But why? I've set thousands of snares. Isn't this just a larger snare with a more scientific component? Could it work? How can we even question it, we tributes trained to gather fish and lumber and coal? What do we know about harnessing power from the sky? Peeta takes a stab at it. "Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, Beetee? It looks so fragile, like it would just burn up." "Oh, it will. But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it," says Beetee. "How do you know?" asks Johanna, clearly not convinced. "Because I invented it," says Beetee, as if slightly surprised. "It's not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn't it?" "Yes," she says glumly. "Don't worry about the wire - it will do just what I say," Beetee assures us. "And where will we be when this happens?" asks Finnick. "Far enough up in the jungle to be safe," Beetee replies. "The Careers will be safe, too, then, unless they're in the vicinity of the water," I point out. "That's right," says Beetee. "But all the seafood will be cooked," says Peeta. "Probably more than cooked," says Beetee. "We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, right, Katniss?" "Yes. Nuts and rats," I say. "And we have sponsors." "Well, then. I don't see that as a problem," says Beetee. "But as we are allies and this will require all our efforts, the decision of whether or not to attempt it is up to you four." We are like schoolchildren. Completely unable to dispute his theory with anything but the most elementary concerns. Most of which don't even have anything to do with his actual plan. I look at the others' disconcerted faces. "Why not?" I say. "If it fails, there's no harm done. If it works, there's a decent chance we'll kill them. And even if we don't and just kill the seafood, Brutus and Enobaria lose it as a food source, too." "I say we try it," says Peeta. "Katniss is right." Finnick looks at Johanna and raises his eyebrows. He will not go forward without her. "All right," she says finally. "It's better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves." Beetee wants to inspect the lightning tree before he has to rig it. Judging by the sun, it's about nine in the morning. We have to leave our beach soon, anyway. So we break camp, walk over to the beach that borders the lightning section, and head into the jungle. Beetee's still too weak to hike up the slope on his own, so Finnick and Peeta take turns carrying him. I let Johanna lead because it's a pretty straight shot up to the tree, and I figure she can't get us too lost. Besides, I can do a lot more damage with a sheath of arrows than she can with two axes, so I'm the best one to bring up the rear. The dense, muggy air weighs on me. There's been no break from it since the Games began. I wish Haymitch would stop sending us that District 3 bread and get us some more of that District 4 stuff, because I've sweated out buckets in the last two days, and even though I've had the fish, I'm craving salt. A piece of ice would be another good idea. Or a cold drink of water. I'm grateful for the fluid from the trees, but it's the same temperature as the seawater and the air and the other tributes and me. We're all just one big, warm stew. As we near the tree, Finnick suggests I take the lead. "Katniss can hear the force field," he explains to Beetee and Johanna. "Hear it?" asks Beetee. "Only with the ear the Capitol reconstructed," I say. Guess who I'm not fooling with that story? Beetee. Because surely he remembers that he showed me how to spot a force field, and probably it's impossible to hear force fields, anyway. But, for whatever reason, he doesn't question my claim. "Then by all means, let Katniss go first," he says, pausing a moment to wipe the steam off his glasses. "Force fields are nothing to play around with." The lightning tree's unmistakable as it towers so high above the others. I find a bunch of nuts and make everybody wait while I move slowly up the slope, tossing the nuts ahead of me. But I see the force field almost immediately, even before a nut hits it, because it's only about fifteen yards away. My eyes, which are sweeping the greenery before me, catch sight of the rippled square high up and to my right. I throw a nut directly in front of me and hear it sizzle in confirmation. "Just stay below the lightning tree," I tell the others. We divide up duties. Finnick guards Beetee while he examines the tree, Johanna taps for water, Peeta gathers nuts, and I hunt nearby. The tree rats don't seem to have any fear of humans, so I take down three easily. The sound of the ten o'clock wave reminds me I should get back, and I return to the others and clean my kill. Then I draw a line in the dirt a few feet from the force field as a reminder to keep back, and Peeta and I settle down to roast nuts and sear cubes of rat. Beetee is still messing around the tree, doing I don't know what, taking measurements and such. At one point he snaps off a sliver of bark, joins us, and throws it against the force field. It bounces back and lands on the ground, glowing. In a few moments it returns to its original color. "Well, that explains a lot," says Beetee. I look at Peeta and can't help biting my lip to keep from laughing since it explains absolutely nothing to anyone but Beetee. About this time we hear the sound of clicks rising from the sector adjacent to us. That means it's eleven o'clock. It's far louder in the jungle than it was on the beach last night. We all listen intently. "It's not mechanical," Beetee says decidedly. "I'd guess insects," I say. "Maybe beetles." "Something with pincers," adds Finnick. The sound swells, as if alerted by our quiet words to the proximity of live flesh. Whatever is making that clicking, I bet it could strip us to the bone in seconds. "We should get out of here, anyway," says Johanna. "There's less than an hour before the lightning starts." We don't go that far, though. Only to the identical tree in the blood-rain section. We have a picnic of sorts, squatting on the ground, eating our jungle food, waiting for the bolt that signals noon. At Beetee's request, I climb up into the canopy as the clicking begins to fade out. When the lightning strikes, it's dazzling, even from here, even in this bright sunlight. It completely encompasses the distant tree, making it glow a hot blue-white and causing the surrounding air to crackle with electricity. I swing down and report my findings to Beetee, who seems satisfied, even if I'm not terribly scientific. We take a circuitous route back to the ten o'clock beach. The sand is smooth and damp, swept clean by the recent wave. Beetee essentially gives us the afternoon off while he works with the wire. Since it's his weapon and the rest of us have to defer to his knowledge so entirely, there's the odd feeling of being let out of school early. At first we take turns having naps in the shadowy edge of the jungle, but by late afternoon everyone is awake and restless. We decide, since this might be our last chance for seafood, to make a sort of feast of it. Under Finnick's guidance we spear fish and gather shellfish, even dive for oysters. I like this last part best, not because I have any great appetite for oysters. I only ever tasted them once, in the Capitol, and I couldn't get around the sliminess. But it's lovely, deep down under the water, like being in a different world. The water's very clear, and schools of bright-hued fish and strange sea flowers decorate the sand floor. Johanna keeps watch while Finnick, Peeta, and I clean and lay out the seafood. Peeta's just pried open an oyster when I hear him give a laugh. "Hey, look at this!" He holds up a glistening, perfect pearl about the size of a pea. "You know, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls," he says earnestly to Finnick. "No, it doesn't," says Finnick dismissively. But I crack up, remembering that's how a clueless Effie Trinket presented us to the people of the Capitol last year, before anyone knew us. As coal pressured into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain. Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. "For you." I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments. "Thanks," I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan. The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it's like they can read my thoughts. "The locket didn't work, did it?" Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. "Katniss?" "It worked," I say. "But not the way I wanted it to," he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters. Just as we're about to eat, a parachute appears bearing two supplements to our meal. A small pot of spicy red sauce and yet another round of rolls from District 3. Finnick, of course, immediately counts them. "Twenty-four again," he says. Thirty-two rolls, then. So we each take five, leaving seven, which will never divide equally. It's bread for only one. The salty fish flesh, the succulent shellfish. Even the oysters seem tasty, vastly improved by the sauce. We gorge ourselves until no one can hold another bite, and even then there are leftovers. They won't keep, though, so we toss all the remaining food back into the water so the Careers won't get it when we leave. No one bothers about the shells. The wave should clear those away. There's nothing to do now but wait. Peeta and I sit at the edge of the water, hand in hand, wordless. He gave his speech last night but it didn't change my mind, and nothing I can say will change his. The time for persuasive gifts is over. I have the pearl, though, secured in a parachute with the spile and the medicine at my waist. I hope it makes it back to District 12. Surely my mother and Prim will know to return it to Peeta before they bury my body.