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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

For the spooky prompts, "Violent Thunderstorms" for Fivan perhaps? 😳

Anonymous asked: Heyyy 2 Vampire for fivan (how to ask for the chapter 2 witout asking for chap 2)

Anonymous asked: Fivan and #2 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Very well, I see what the people want, and that is a sequel to this one-shot. I have thus combined these prompts for reasons.

Fedyor spends the next fortnight attempting – with notably indifferent success – not to think about Ivan Sakharov. The Conclave was less than pleased to hear that Fedyor came back empty-handed, having not even secured a promise for Ivan and the rest of the Black Hand to leave off their mischief-making, and in fact has empowered them in their belief that there is nothing the law can do to them. Considering the earful that Fedyor got on that accord, he saw nothing to be gained from mentioning that not only did Ivan blow him off completely, he did it after he had fed on him. It’s entirely possible that Ivan accessed sensitive thoughts, memories, or plans, any scrap of useful intelligence that Fedyor did not carefully hide away in his mind before that too-distracting bite. In short, he has comprehensively botched the entire situation, the Conclave is well within their rights to be very angry with him, and to demonstrate the extent of their displeasure, they have temporarily revoked Fedyor’s right to enter their territory and feed on their drones – willing humans kept for the purpose, who are hoping to be selected for the transformation in exchange for their service. That means if Fedyor wants to eat, he has to go out and hunt an animal, or bamboozle and beguile an unwitting passerby to let him chomp on their neck. Truly, being a vampire can be such a terrible drag.

Fedyor figures that if he keeps his head down, meekly accepts his punishment, and doesn’t make any trouble, the Conclave will get over their anger and reinstate him sooner rather than later. It’s not like he has many other options. If he wants to stay in Belgrade, he will remain in their good graces, and he has no desire to get mixed up with the Black Hand. The rumor is that they were founded by the Black Heretic himself, who has remained out of sight for many decades but is now said to be active again, and the Black Heretic is the scion of the Conclave’s greatest enemy, the vampire that all other vampires fear. Absolutely no good can come of throwing one’s lot in with that crowd, and Fedyor wonders if he is going to have to find a new home. If a stupid supernatural war blows up this city, he’s out.

Most of the fortnight passes without incident, but the flaw in the plan is the unfortunate fact that Fedyor is very hungry. He’s still a young enough vampire that he can’t go two weeks without feeding, and he really hates the messy business of corralling an unwitting human. Besides, the Conclave’s headquarters and chief place of business are on Knez Mihailova Ulica, the most fashionable downtown district right in the middle of Belgrade, and what with Fedyor’s current banishment from the premises, he can’t go there anyway. Hunting it has to be.

Fedyor waits until it is dark, a soft summer rain pattering on the steep-roofed eaves and glowing streetlamps, and then, having changed into clothing more suitable for getting a lot of bloodstains, he slips out. He moves silently in the shadows, past the well-dressed gentlemen and evening-gowned ladies out at the ball or the opera or the latest society supper-party, and escapes the precincts of Belgrade proper for the low green hills that surround it. This is on the Sava side of the river confluence, to the west, and once Fedyor is out of the city, the trees close in thickly. They are only broken by the occasional tiny village: small churches with square steeples and double-branched Orthodox crosses, red-tiled cottages crowded together along narrow dirt lanes, a lantern burning here and there to keep the monsters away. Fedyor can hear human voices, sense the shadows of people moving around behind the shutters, and it gives him a pang. No wonder he is clinging so closely to the prospect of timely reinstatement to the Conclave. Without them, he would truly be entirely alone.

The rain starts to come down harder as Fedyor climbs through the thick green underbrush, and by the time he reaches the top of the hill, it is slicing into his face with a vehemence that even a vampire finds intensely disagreeable. Squinting and swearing under his breath, Fedyor shields his eyes and takes a deep whiff, searching for the scent of a prey animal. He could always hop a fence and grab a cow, but cows can kick surprisingly hard, a poor farmer doesn’t need the hassle of his one beast of burden keeling over, and maybe it is just the city-boy aesthete in Fedyor, but crouching in a muddy farmyard, doing your damndest not to get murdered by a large and angry bovine while you valiantly attempt to suck its blood, is just fucking terrible. There’s nothing to recommend it. Now that he’s out of the fledgling bloodlust, Fedyor has no intention of ever going back.

Thunder booms overhead, making him jump, and a jagged spear of lightning sears the horizon from sky to ground. A tree not that far away lights up in blinding white, and a scorched scent of ozone drifts through the pounding rain. Fedyor flinches, as he has no desire to be set on fire, and decides that either he raids a farm or he heads back home and waits for better weather. But he can catch another scent just ahead, and he’s hungry enough to risk it. He breaks into a run, almost loses his footing, dodges around an enormous dripping tree, and spots a thin crescent of lights high on the bluff ahead. Wait, is that a house? Some Serbian royal bureaucrat’s elegant country retreat, or – something else? Fedyor doesn’t recall that he has seen it before, although he has not spent much time out here alone. That, or –

He has only a split second of warning, his supernatural senses screaming at him to get the fuck out of here right now, before he realizes two things at once: first, that the scent is very definitely hostile, and second, that something is dive-bombing directly toward him, on the strength of a ferocious leap that is remarkable even for a vampire. The next second, it – he – hits Fedyor like a ton of bricks, and they go crashing down the slope, kicking and thrashing and biting at each other in a flurry of blows too fast for a human eye to see. Another enormous clap of thunder rattles Fedyor’s fangs in his head, he slams down on his back hard enough to break his bones if he was human, and then, in the flash of the succeeding lightning bolt, his eyes confirm what his nose has already told him. Of all the stupid, stupid things, he appears to have unwittingly trespassed onto Black Hand territory and tried to hunt their game, and the angry supernatural soldier determined to beat the unholy tarnation out of him is therefore none other than the one and only –

“Stop!” Fedyor wheezes, although he has no idea why he expects it to make any difference. “It’s me! Fedyor Kaminsky! From Terazije!”

The rain stings his eyes hard enough to make him grimace, just as a third incandescent bolt of lightning rattles across the sky. From what Fedyor can see, which is not very much, Ivan looks almost as startled as he feels. They remain staring at each other, their faces barely an inch apart, Ivan’s fangs bared in a way that it is really not the time to find disturbingly attractive. Then Ivan springs off and barks, “What the fuck are you doing out here, Conclave whore?”

“Sorry.” Fedyor sits up. His dark hair is plastered to his head and getting in his eyes, there is mud all over his clothes, and even for an immortal who technically does not need to breathe, he is winded. Ivan, to nobody’s surprise, really packs a punch. “I was just… hungry.”

“You have your own arrangements.” Ivan eyes him suspiciously, arms folded, rainwater running down that magnificently disdainful Slavic nose as if from a statue in the public square. “If anyone besides me had caught you out here, you would be dead.”

Well, that is (not) encouraging. It does, however, point out the fact that Ivan has already had the chance to murder him and held back, and Fedyor is not about to speculate on why exactly that might be. It’s not a good idea, but he’s wet, hungry, has just had to unexpectedly fight like the dickens, and irritated at Ivan for being the one who got him into this mess in the first place. “The Conclave demanded that I return their visiting card,” he says shortly. “I’m not allowed to feed on their drones for some unspecified length of time – which is, I might add, entirely thanks to you.”

“What? Why is that my fault?”

“In case you’ve forgotten our last meeting,” Fedyor snaps, “it was at the Golden Cross, on the Lumière brothers’ film night. I relayed the Conclave’s warning to stop your illegal behavior and associations, and you completely ignored it. As a result – ”

“What, they cut off your feeding access?” Ivan interrupts. He looks utterly incredulous. “That’s charitable of them. A good way to build loyalty among your people. Besides, what the fuck did they expect? That you would walk up and ask me nicely, and that would solve it?”

He does, Fedyor has to loathingly admit, have a point. The best he can muster is, “The Conclave is accustomed to being obeyed.”

Ivan eyes him up, with an expression on his face as if that riposte is so pathetic, he isn’t going to dignify it with the effort of a reply. He is poised on edge, as if he doesn’t consider this matter to be entirely settled by the previous bout of violence, and Fedyor is equally tense. He very much does not want to scuffle with a Black Hand hardman who looks like that and fights like that, especially in the throes of encroaching frenzy, and the attendant loss of control. His fangs dig into his lower lip, seeking out the nearest blood – his own – and Fedyor clenches his fists. “Do you have an animal I can borrow?” he asks, as politely as he can. “I’ll – pay for it.”

Ivan surveys him up and down, dripping like an undead drowned rat and otherwise looking as miserable as Fedyor generally tries not to look (after all, presentation is everything). Then he jerks up an impatient fist. “Follow me.”

Fedyor is unsure what this might entail, but shamefully – whether it is due to his increasingly desperate hunger, or something else – he is not altogether opposed to it. He trails after Ivan, trying not to slip in the wet grass or fixate on Ivan’s scent; he will just get another smackdown for his trouble, like a horse flicking aside a fly, and he is not in the mood for it. After a climb of a few minutes, they reach the top of the hill and cross a deserted lawn to a manor house, scattered lights flickering in steep gables and pointed turrets. It is otherwise entirely dark, even to Fedyor’s vampire senses, as Ivan unlatches the heavy front door and drags it open with a screech. “In.”

Well aware that this is an even stupider idea than the polite request to knock it off – he is putting himself voluntarily in the power of a Black Hand operative, on enemy territory, where nobody knows where he is or what Ivan intends to do with him. If Fedyor’s drained corpse turns up floating in the Danube tomorrow, a warning to the Conclave never to interfere in their business again, he can’t say that he didn’t expect it. He hesitates at the threshold a moment longer, and then, given permission – it’s not essential, but it does help – steps inside.

The hall looks almost exactly as you would expect a secret vampire mansion to look: dusty suits of armor, glowering paintings, a sweeping grand staircase with a gothic balcony, and a chandelier which struggles to illuminate the cracked black-and-white chessboard flagstones. Still dripping, the thunder dulling to a muted rumble, Fedyor looks warily from side to side. There doesn’t seem to be anyone here except the two of them – or at least, he certainly hopes that there are no unwitting humans asleep upstairs. In the state that he’s in right now, he isn’t sure that he could control himself. Unless Ivan is trying to make some tiresome point about the inherent monstrosity of vampires, the sort that certain factions like to use in order to argue against the Conclave’s attempts to civilize them and make them follow human-like rules and laws. Fedyor hopes not, because that would be deeply irritating, but he’s so hungry that he’s about to bite his own wrist, and it would not be his finest hour.

However, Ivan does not lead them upstairs, but through a dim warren of corridors to a small, curtained study in the back of the house. Sullen embers glimmer in the hearth; vampires don’t need fires for heat, or to see by, but the human habit is hard to break, even if it’s one of the few things that can hurt them. Then Ivan shuts the door behind them and says crisply, “I’ll make you a deal. Give me useful information on the Conclave, and I will let you feed.”

“What?” Fedyor gapes at him. That was clearly a starvation-induced hallucination. “On – on you?”

“No,” Ivan snaps. “On the davenport, you idiot. Yes, obviously on me. Or I can throw you out and send you to try your luck in the nearest village. Yes or no?”

Fedyor continues to gape at him. Obviously he does not want to go and rip some screaming innocent villager out of their bed, like the very worst of the strigoi horror stories, but he is not in a hurry to jeopardize his ticket back to the Conclave’s good graces by informing on them to Ivan bloody Sakharov. (Indeed, literally.) Did Ivan make that offer because he knows that Fedyor wants it, and remembers how much of a reaction Fedyor had to Ivan feeding on him back at the Golden Cross? It was impossible to hide it entirely, blast him, and Ivan is too canny not to take advantage of an adversary’s weakness. He’s caught Fedyor dead to rights, trespassing on Black Hand territory, and as he himself said, Fedyor is lucky to escape with his skin. It’s Ivan’s right to exploit that fact, nothing more. If Fedyor refuses, what in the hell is he going to do?

“I don’t know,” he stalls. “I’m not sure that I can – ”

Ivan shrugs, then lifts his own wrist to his mouth and bites the back of it. Slow, rich, dark blood beads up, and he wafts it temptingly in Fedyor’s direction. “So, you don’t want this, then?”

Yes, Fedyor wants it. Fedyor, in fact, wants a few other things while he’s at it, and there is no way that Ivan, with hearing and senses and smell as acute as his own, doesn’t know it. He takes a step forward, but Ivan dances aside. “Information first,” he orders. “Then you may have your reward. Come now, Conclave whore. Why is it any different from last time?”

“Don’t call me that.” Fedyor is seeing red – which, at this point, could be due to just about anything. “I have a name, remember? Fedyor – Mikhailovich – Kaminsky.”

He stumbles a little over the patronymic, as it is an ongoing debate whether proper etiquette for Slavic vampires entails the use of the birth father’s name, or that of the vampire sire. Opinion generally comes down on the side of the latter, since it represents proper respect for one’s new immortal status and supernatural bloodline; you’re supposed to let go of your human family, since pining to go back complicates the already-difficult adjustment period and is impossible anyway. But since Fedyor isn’t entirely reconciled to it, and tries to hold onto his humanity, he tends to introduce himself as Fedyor Mikhailovich, not Fedyor Dmitrievich, and the flicker in Ivan’s eyes means that he has taken note of that struggle. Then he shrugs, crooking a taunting finger at him. “Fine then, Fedyor Mikhailovich. It is your choice.”

“What do you – ” Fedyor is having trouble seeing straight. “Want to know?”

“Anything that might be useful.” If he is worried about being shut in a small room with another vampire on the verge of total frenzy, Ivan doesn’t show it. Indeed, in this paramount confidence and command, Fedyor realizes that Ivan is much older than he initially thought. He took him for one of Catherine the Great’s courtiers, from the late eighteenth century or so, but the well-worn shadow of violence that sits on Ivan’s shoulders is of considerably longer use than that. It’s something else to puzzle out when Fedyor regains the use of his higher critical faculties, which is definitely not the case at the moment. “That is, if you can bring yourself to actually – ”

At that moment, he is cut off as Fedyor, deciding that two can play this game and he is tired of being jerked around by this arrogant bastard, lunges at him. Ivan jumps six feet straight up, hissing, and they end up somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling, only to crash back down to the floor. Even vampires are not immune to the laws of gravity, and they roll around in a second deeply undignified flurry of kicking and biting, as Fedyor finally gets hold of Ivan’s wrists and tries to get his mouth as close as possible to that maddeningly enticing trickle. Then, for a crucial instant, he hesitates. He is very far gone, but there’s enough of his brain left to remember that feeding without permission is regarded quite dimly, and he is trying to prove that he is not a total savage. He gulps and gasps, fangs cutting into his lip, struggling and thrashing, not even able to properly articulate his request, as Ivan still looks – bafflingly – as if he is rather enjoying this. Then he smirks and says, “Very well, Fedyor Mikhailovich. Take it if you can.”

Now that is a challenge, and while it would be very enjoyable to throw it back in Ivan’s face in another fashion, Fedyor has only one concern at the moment. He presses his mouth to Ivan’s wrist, sinks his fangs, and sucks and licks like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Ivan utters a contented purring sound, his head falling back on the carpet, and certainly does not bother to keep struggling while Fedyor is otherwise occupied. Silence falls across the drawing room, except for the soft sounds of Fedyor feeding. He is half on top of Ivan, between his legs, and Ivan does not appear to be objecting in the least. Well. That was… unexpected.

When Fedyor has drunk enough to feel sane again, he pulls back with a jerk, remembers where he is, and fights the wash of embarrassment that floods through him. He wipes his mouth with the cuff of his shirt, then bends down and licks the bite wound closed, which is common vampire practice even if Ivan failed to do it with him. (After all, some supernaturals have manners.) Then they look at each other, and Fedyor doesn’t think it’s his imagination that Ivan’s breath is coming short, a flush visible in his pale cheeks, an enjoyment bearing a remarkable resemblance to Fedyor’s own. The silence persists a moment longer. Then Ivan groans, his legs sprawl further apart, and he orders, doing his utmost to sound gruff and commanding, “You will give me information on the Conclave now, yes?”

It is extremely tempting to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, to pay him back for that underhanded trick at the Golden Cross, but that requires more command of his verbal processes than Fedyor currently possesses – or indeed, expects to possess in the near-to-medium future. He leans down instead, his nose brushing the hollow of Ivan’s cheek and his mouth ghosting against Ivan’s neck, his fangs tracing the line of the vein as if he might bite there too. Ivan’s hips buck, and his big hands settle heavily on the small of Fedyor’s back. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rasp in his throat. “You are wasted on those idiots.”

“Mmm.” Fedyor nips Ivan’s lower lip, with just a hint of fang. Then – although it’s the most difficult thing he has had to do in his life or his afterlife – he rolls off and gets to his feet, leaving the fearsome Black Hand anarchist vampire flat on his back on the drawing room floor. “It has,” he says, “been a lovely evening. But I will be taking my leave now. Good night.”

And with that, in the somewhat shameful epitome of quitting while he is ahead, but wanting to make absolutely sure that the point has been felt, Fedyor turns around and books it. He doesn’t dare to look back as he bursts out of the dark house, pelts across the lawn, and skids down the hill, in the thick and slippery knots of mud and moss. He doesn’t slow down until he spies the lights of Belgrade, and in a few minutes more, he’s thundering into his flat, clothes disheveled and hair a mess and mouth and head and heart still full of the taste and smell and feel of Ivan Sakharov. It’s intoxicating. It’s unbearable. But it can only be once. It will be only once.

The Conclave, Fedyor reminds himself. You’re doing this to get back to them, and you managed to get out of there without saying anything. They’ll appreciate it. They will. And it’s what you want. Keep your head down and don’t do anything else stupid, and it will work.

It’s what he wants.

It’s what he –

Ah, fuck.

#fic prompts #spooky prompts #heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #paging bite anon lmao #vampire au #the book of the raven #starlesscne #anonymous #ask

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adrianasunderworld · 4 years

Text

More headcanons for the boys +romance

Piers

Piers is secretly a sap for old movies. Black and white ones to be more specific. He not only finds them aesthetically pleasing, but also with their own charm. Theres a small theater in Spikemuth that exclusively airs vintage movies, and visits whenever he has time.

His and Marnies biggest bonding activity is hair night. She'll help him redye the white streaks in his hair(which is no small task). Piers will blow dry and straighten hers. They'll put on a bad movie from netflix, order take out and have a night.

Piers can play guitar. But it's more for personal use than anything. He finds it relaxing to just sit an play while he writes songs. It's only for very specific songs that he'll play in stage. They're usually the very emotional ones that mean a great deal to him. Every piers fan knows, if he's holding a guitar, the crowds tears will follow.

Ever see that video of a dog relaxing while his owner plays the pokemon theme on an acoustic guitar? That's Piers and his pokemon.

Obstagoon is like a big bratty dog. Always wants treats, always wants attention. And will whine when it does not get them. When it was a zigzagoon, it would give big pouty eyes for treats and table scraps, and it always worked on young piers. He was a chubby little thing back then.

When skuntank was a stunky, it was biter. Nothing was safe. Furniture, clothes, fingers. Piers always had little red mark's from the teething pokemon. A quarter of all his money always went to replacing toys Stunky had destroyed.

Romance

Piers has always been bashful around people he genuinely likes. *coughraihancough* he'll do his damndest to play it off. But he's always been terrible at hiding a crush. Especially if he blushes around them. He's so pale any color on his face will be very evident.

Half the time he always assumes the other person has no interest in him. But he isn't dense enough to not be able to tell when he's being flirted with. He feels better talking to someone when he knows/feels like his attention is wanted. It makes him less nervous.

Isn't one for initiating pda, but is not opposed to it. He likes having his arm around his s/o shoulders though.

Has written breakup songs before. No you can't hear them. They're private and locked away in his desk. He has just enough self respect to not air his relationship drama on stage.

Play with his hair, he'll be putty in your hands.

Has never understood people who stay in relationships with someone who does not get along with their loved ones. Marnie is all Piers has, and if someone cannot get along with her or makes her uncomfortable, they are out. Plain and simple. Unless Marnie says it's ok to keep seeing them, Piers won't pick a relationship over his sister.

Piers is always busy with gym responsibilities or performances and practice. As fun as it can be to bring his s/o to events, his favorite date night activity is to stay home with them. He'll make them a nice meal, put on a movie and relax on the couch.

Is actually a big cuddle bug. He loves snuggling on the couch. His head on your lap. Holding them in bed. Piers is touch starved and needs attention, please give it to him.

Start giving him good luck kisses before a performance, it'll be his favorite thing.

Raihan

Raihan acknowledges he can be very vain at times. But the one being that out vains him at every turn is Duraludun. If it sees Raihan filming or taking a photo, it will butt in and try to take over the whole shot. It has become very good friends with the Rotom in his phone. When they get bored they'll stage a hostile takeover of his instagram andTwitter. It become a monthly thing.

Not so secretly a bookstagramer. Raihan always ends up in the vaults and libraries of Hammerlocke. He saw one of his gym trainers, Camilla, taking pictures of the books she was reading and asked about it. She showed him a lot of aesthetically pleasing pictures of books, and libraries, and artfully cluttered desk and wanted to try. It's not a secret, but he does try to keep it separate from his hyper dragon man gym persona. Sort of business vs. Personal deal.

He dresses very well. Despite that more often than not he is in his favorite hoodie and gym uniform, when Raihan wants to dress up,damn son. He spends a lot of time online and is friends with Nessa and Sonia, he knows what's up in fashion and what looks good on him.

He and Gordie are the Meme Team. Everytime they have a conversation it will descend into quoting and reenacting vines. Only the younger gym leaders know what they're saying, they just refuse to encourage it. Except Alister. Hes a little kid that hears these cooler older dudes being funny and try to join them. Hes they're third member now. Poor Bea, she couldn't save him.

Out of all his pokemon, he's had flygon the longest. Raised it from a trapinch when he was a kid. That's why he wears that orange hat/headband thing, to honor his buddy.

Takes very good care of his skin. Partially because his face is always on camera, but also because his skin dries out easily and always need moisturizers. Nessa showed him all her favorite brands. He likes chilling out with a face mask, it's very soothing.

Romance

Raihan is a very confident, attractive, and friendly guy, he pretty much never has trouble getting a date.

That being said, sometimes he gets a bit too confident and ends up coming on too strong for some people.

This was definitely a problem in his teen years. He would just say the wrong thing with all the bravado he could muster and whoever he liked would scoff and walk away. He grew out of it, but it could be downright painful to watch young Raihan flirt.

Raihan is pretty laid back and generally takes rejection very well. Only when it was someone that he REALLY liked and had for awhile is when he gets truly upset. And when that happens he just hangs out at home for a bit or go out to the wild area, Spends time with his pokemon. Generally just wants be alone with his thoughts till he can bounce back.

When Raihan is dating someone, he surprisingly doesn't want to post about it for awhile. If they're still together after a few months is when he'll post selfies and cute couple pictures. He's learned the hard way how certain types of fans will react to him dating, and once they go public they wont have as much privacy. He likes to have that grace period of just being a couple without all eyes on them.But once that initial hurtle is over. Its photo city with him.

Is a big fan of "good morning" and "good night" texts. Also loves falling asleep over the phone when you can't spend the night together.

Honestly just text him a lot in general. A lot of gym things take up a large chunk of his time. Text that you miss him, or a picture of one of your pokemon sleeping on the couch, ask if he wants pizza later. Literally anything will brighten his day. He'll definitely return the favor.

Loves taking s/o out on the town. From league events, to friends parties, or just dinner and shopping. He wants to show them off. If you aren't comfortable with it, tell him sooner rather than later.

Is a giant tease. Loves to whisper whatever he can in your ear or send something risque over text to make you blush and then act completely innocent.

Leon

Has a room in his house just for Hop. Hop used to love visiting him every summer in Wyndon. Otherwise he would never see his brother. The visits got less frequent over the years. But Hop always has a place to stay with Leon.

After he had been champion for a couple years was when the merch train really got rolling. Tshirts, posters, stationery. You name it, it had Leon's face on it. As a kid he lost his shit over it and but over the years got less enamored. Although he does have a soft for the Leon toys. After all, who doesn't want an action figure or doll made of them?

Leon does his best to keep himself and his pokemon in shape and on a daily routine. That all gets thrown out the window when he visits home or family comes to see him. All his pokemon get treated like spoiled house pets. FromHaHaxrus being a test taster for his mom to Hop flying around the neighborhood with charzard. Its takes over a week to get everything back on track after.

Charzard is obviously the leader of all the pokemon next to Leon. All the newer pokemon always look up to them for guidance and charzard is always friendly and helpful. They are also very fond of kids, it loves events like visiting schools or children's hospitals. He's like a drampa in charzard skin.

Haxorus is a diva. She loves attention and shiny things. She adores Sonia because when she was just an Axew, Sonia always gave her a little trinkets, like sparkly hair pins or a pretty rock. She also loves to be complimented, Leon always calls her his pretty girl. Theres pile of shiny stuff that no one is allowed to touch at Leon's house unless she allows it.

Whenever leon visits home, he always tries to go out with his old friends. Usually they have a few drinks at the local pub and have dinner. Oddly enough, Leon can get lost going next door, but can stumble home no problem when he's drunk. Go figure.

Ever heard of a sneaker head? Well Leon is a hat head. Whenever his favorite brands come out with a new hat design, you can bet your ass he'll be line for the release or online waiting for the listing to show up. The wall of caps at his moms house is but a humble sample of his collection.

Played softball as a kid. He throws his pokeball the way he was taught to pitch. As a kid leon liked to think if he couldn't be a trainer, he would like the be a baseball player.

Romance

Leon can't flirt for shit,and I mean this in the nicest way possible. His idea of breaking the ice is asking if you want a battle.

Leon was especially hopeless as a teenager. He spent so much time with the league, an environment of mostly adults, being around anyone his age was a damn miracle.

Sonia and Raihan would always take him to parties to socialize. But anytime someone tried to make a move on him, Leon would just think they were being friendly.

Raihan has always been his wingman.

Raihan: My friend over there thinks you're cute. *points at the damn champion waving awkwardly from across the room.*

Even Now, they still do this. And it still has 50/50 shot of working.

Has been in a couple relationships, but both have ended badly. They were ultimately with Leon for his title and not him.

Leon wants to be with someone, he just finds it's harder for him than he realised. When he does find someone, it's going to be a bit of a slow go to know them and be sure they aren't using him. When that wall breaks he going to be the happiest man around.

Leon is affectionate and will always find a way to touch his s/o. From a kiss on the cheek, to random hugs, to lightly touching their back as he passes.

This man has never half Assed anything in his life. Leon's a go big or go home kind of guy, so when he wants to make a romantic gesture, he'll put his all into it. From picnics on the stadium field, to a special camping spot in the wild area, dinner on the top floor of the battle tower. Even just flowers will be from the best florist in in the city. Leon wants to show how much he loves you and nothing but his 110% best effort will do.

As extra as Leon is, it's always the small quiet moments that get him. He'll wake up early and see his s/o peacefully asleep, and he'll just melt and stay there for awhile.

You could try to make his favorite meal and burn everything and he'll still be touched. It's very much the thought that counts for Leon, because it shows you care enough to put the effort in.

King of cheesy lines. Will say the lamest pick up lines or something he heard in a movie to try and make you laugh. It usually works because he always says it with a straight face.

#cant be back on my bullshit if i was never off it #they're just fun to write ok?#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #Raihan #gym leader raihan #gym leader piers #piers #leon #champion leon #leon x reader #raihan x reader #piers x reader #pokemon headcanons

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dweetwise · 4 years

Note

Hello! Could I request some headcanons on the other survivors opinions on quentin? Thank you!.

i love quentin he’s my son ;w;

Quentin & other survivors headcanons

Dwight finds Quentin's dark humor a little unnerving. In general he thinks Quentin is too cool and edgy for him, but secretly he really wants to befriend him.

Meg sees Quentin as an annoying little brother. Where the others give him a lot of leeway because of his troubled past, she's not afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. Quentin appreciates her honesty even if they bicker a lot.

Claudette constantly worries over him, but has more tact than most of the others, causing him to seek her out for advice because he knows she won’t patronize him. They also bond over both of them having a knack for healing.

Jake vibes with Quentin's non-conformist attitude and morbid humor. Quentin always seems to calm down in his company, sometimes even falling asleep mid-banter, and the two have a pretty wholesome bromance.

Nea brings out a rebellious side of Quentin and loves his hyper side. They would have gotten along splendidly even before the fog, their friendship shallow but lots of fun. Sometimes they swap beanies for funsies.

Laurie and Quentin are almost like siblings. Their personalities contrast a lot, but they bond over similar trauma and losing their friends in the most horrible ways. Laurie is his best friend and the only one who knows the full story of what happened with Freddy.

Ace likes the kid and worries from afar. He’ll do his damndest to laugh at Quentin's morbid attempts at jokes when everyone else is just silent and uncomfortable. He somehow seems to know exactly when Quentin needs a distraction with a shitty pun and when he just needs space to mope in peace.

Bill is protective of Quentin no matter how much the teen tries to dissuade him. He'll throw himself between Freddy and Quentin every time, even if he's injured and on death hook. Quentin has never told Bill about his history with the killer, but the veteran has his suspicions.

Feng likes Quentin when he's being a little shit (to someone other than her) but hates that sometimes he just gives up in trials. She's left him to die several times but it doesn't impact their friendship, because at least she doesn't coddle him.

David and Quentin both have hot tempers and have thrown fists on multiple occasions. They have an unspoken agreement where Quentin can take out his frustrations on David, be it verbal or physical. Eventually David teaches him how to spar properly to get rid of some of the pent-up energy. David wants to help and this is the only way he knows how to.

Tapp immediately labeled Quentin as a problem youth junkie. He felt really bad after hearing about his forced insomnia, so he tries to make it up to Quentin and always goes easy on him compared to the other youngsters.

Kate likes everyone, and Quentin is no exception. She gets a little exasperated at his self-deprecating and sarcastic humor, when she's just trying to stay positive and keep the optimism high in camp. If Quentin’s being especially morbid, she’ll just grab his cheeks and force his mouth into a smile to get him to shut up.

Adam gauges him like a teacher would a student, and thinks Quentin is a smart kid, if a little misguided. He’s flattered when Quentin is the first to approach him to learn to use Diversion, but is fondly exasperated when he sees Quentin use it solely to throw rocks at the killer’s face.

Jeff is chill as fuck. He trusts Quentin to know what's best for himself, and when some of the others are too persistent with getting him to sleep or whatnot, Jeff will politely tell them to fuck off and leave the kid alone.

Jane takes on a mother role whether Quentin likes it or not. She feels like he's still a child and needs someone who is stern and will tell him off if his moping gets out of line or if he refuses to sleep for days on end.

Ash tries cheering up Quentin with shitty jokes. He does feel a little bad for the kid, but wants him to get through it and come back out on the other side; like Ash himself did.

Steve thinks Quentin is definitely someone he would have hung out with back in high school. He brings out a more playful side of Quentin, and Quentin in turn makes Steve's snark multiply tenfold.

Nancy kind of accepts Quentin as Steve's friend and unconsciously keeps a distance. They're on good terms though and he's weirdly protective of her for reasons she doesn’t entirely understand (his Nancy).

Yui, like Meg, sees Quentin as an annoying little brother. Hers comes with more of a protective streak, where she’s running after the killer and trying to get Quentin to wiggle free while calling him out on what a bad play he made to get caught.

Zarina sees many similarities between herself and Quentin, mainly their curious nature. She asks a lot of questions the others are too scared to, especially about his research on dreams. Even though her prying sometimes strikes a nerve, most of the time Quentin is happy to share his theories with someone.

Cheryl is quick to befriend Quentin because of his vibe that's much like to hers. They have a similar sense of humor and coping mechanisms and grow close really fast. Cheryl and Laurie also get on splendidly, and the three are very tight friends.

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS

"Dad?" Harry whispered when he just kept sitting there, glaring down at the pages, and Harry finally realized he had been the only one not to say anything.

"Oh I am beyond pissed," he said at once with broiling tones. "I'm going to knock him a good one if I ever get the pleasure of meeting him-" his face twitched though, some old regret finally tampering down the tone, "but I'd be a right hypocrite if I sat here and gave somebody else the piss about doing this."

"Oh come on Prongs," Sirius whined, turning a still fiery look on him which drowned out his attempt at a joke. "That was years ago, we've gotten over it. I've admitted I deserved it."

"Still," James groused, shoving the book towards him without looking at anyone. "I made that mistake once before, judging someone just because they made a stupid bleeding decision. If Harry and Ron never make up for Ron acting like a royal prat, than so be it, but I'm certainly not going to say anything against him because he's said and done something stupid in regards to one of his friends."

"I, I really don't believe you," Remus gasped as he stared right at him, sure at any moment James was going to crack and start yelling and screaming along with the rest of them. "What Sirius did is much worse than this-"

"-Gee thanks Moony-" Sirius muttered under his breath.

James cut across both of them as he nodded, "that's true, and my point. What Ron's doing is wrong, and stupid, but I'm going to sit over here and hope he gets over it and apologizes more than curse him out about it." He clearly was not pleased at his own decision, but he still sat back with his arms crossed and a set look saying he was going to do his damndest to uphold that as long as he could.

Sirius looked from the book to his best mate like he wasn't sure who was giving him a turn more, but finally he decided to leave Prongs be for now.

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so miserable and worried.

Sirius hadn't ever been this mad at Ron before. He'd been angry at Hermione plenty of times, but at least he could wrap his mind around her. This was, petty, and so stupid! Anybody who knew Harry for a few minutes ought to realize he wouldn't have really done something like this, Ron had been his friend for over three years by now and hadn't stuck by his mate! He quickly pushed past the rather confusing feeling that he was technically this steamed over someone he'd never actually met.

Then he remembered his fight with Ron, and sat up with the full intentions of forcing Ron to believe him,

"You shouldn't have to," Remus snarled under his breath.

only to find that Ron's bed was empty.

Lily groaned, wondering how long this was going to last, holding out for hope that the two boys would make up.

Harry dressed and went down as well, but the moment he appeared in front of others they started applauding him again.

James had to really fight down the impulse to make a crude gesture at people who weren't here. Couldn't they take a hint?

The idea of facing the rest of the castle was not appealing, but it was a choice between that or staying up here with his own adoring house, so he made for the portrait and had barely climbed out when he ran into Hermione.

It really was sad that Harry had to watch them all tense in unease, clearly fearing yet another row. Surely at least Hermione would believe him!

She greeted him with a friendly enough tone, holding up a stack of toast for him and offering to go for a walk.

"That's encouraging," Sirius grumbled, his eyes narrowing in thought as he tried to guess if Hermione would have started yelling at him at once like Ron would have, or would try to drag him somewhere private to shout at him for doing this.

Harry agreed, and the two wound up strolling around the lake as Harry explained himself. Hermione took it all in without question.

"Oh thank Merlin," Lily sighed, slumping back into the couch in relief.

Hermione agreed she'd known at once Harry hadn't done it, she'd seen the look on his face last night.

James sighed, wishing he didn't have a first hand account on that face, that it hadn't reappeared on his son now and this was all just a really bad joke.

She did go on to say that Moody had a point, a student couldn't have done this- but Harry interrupted to ask if she'd seen Ron?

"Unbelievably, I'd have rather just let Hermione keep going," Sirius snapped.

Hermione hesitated before admitting she had. Harry demanded if he really thought he'd entered himself? Hermione tried to say that wasn't entirely it, not really.

"What does she mean, not really?" Remus scowled. "Either he does and needs to pull his head out of his arse, or doesn't in which case I'd like to think he'd have come to apologize to you the moment reality came back to him."

Harry didn't answer, he had no more idea than them.

Harry demanded to know what that meant, and Hermione said it was obvious.

"No," all five of them grumbled.

He was jealous.

"Jealous of what?" Harry demanded, his outrage still somehow managing to grow.

Harry demanded to know of what, and Hermione tried to explain that it was always Harry getting the attention,

"It's not my fault," Harry howled in outrage to no one in particular, he knew they all knew it, he just couldn't help it!

she agreed it wasn't his fault when Harry looked to interrupt her,

"Guess I don't need to ask what he was going to say," Sirius muttered.

but with all of his brothers at home, and his best friend being so famous, well he was always overlooked and this was just one time too many.

"I can't garner much pity for him," Lily scathed, "if he wants to take your place and put his name on the chopping block, he could have at it."

Harry bitterly agreed that was great news for him, he'd swap any time! Hermione could go tell him if he wanted people following him around, gawping at his forehead- but Hermione cut him off saying she wasn't telling Ron anything.

"Can't blame her there," James sighed, "I wouldn't want to be the messenger bird for this either."

Harry should tell him, it was the only way for them to get over this. Harry shouted back he wasn't going to follow Ron around trying to force him to grow up!

"And no one blames you," Remus agreed in clipped tones.

Maybe Ron would believe him once he'd broken his neck!

"Oh don't," Lily forced back yet more anger at her son, he was speaking in a temper, but still she had to fight the impulse to smack him for making jokes about this.

Harry muttered a sorry for her, though he hardly looked repentant enough it was clear he may have kept going to Hermione at least.

Hermione told him off for that, saying this wasn't funny! Reminding him he had to do something the moment he got back to the castle.

"Convince Dumbledore to let you drop out of school," Remus rolled his eyes.

"Go ask Moody to teach you every flipping curse he knows and then some," Lily huffed.

"Shove Ron's head through a wall," Sirius sniffed.

"Learn to live under your Invisibility Cloak for the time being," James sighed, crossing his arms in agitation.

Harry couldn't help but give just the tiniest smile at all of them, they'd all spoken at almost the exact same time, and considering what he'd been fixing to say what had flitted across his mind, he kept his mouth shut to let Sirius read.

Harry agreed he'd give Ron a good kick up the-

"Do not blame you," Sirius spat, though it was conjoined with quite a bit of mirth that time as he gave them all smug smirks Harry had said the same thing as him.

Hermione interrupted to say he should write to Sirius.

"Oh," they all muttered. Well at least Hermione's suggestion was doable. They could only imagine his reaction though, and James and Remus couldn't help but exchange a half terrified look as all of what he'd say to this came to their mind. Sirius had come back to the country just because Harry's scar had hurt, what would he do when he heard about this?

Harry needed to write to him first, tell him what was going on. He'd been sending them warnings he was afraid something bad was going to happen, almost like he expected this.

"I highly doubt I saw this coming," Sirius grumbled, his eyes still narrowed as he tried to understand his own future mind. He clearly was being mindful of something, if his cryptic little comment was anything to go by then maybe he had been expecting some trouble and that's why he'd wanted to stay close to Harry, but no one would have seen this coming.

Harry told her she was being insane. He'd come back to the country because Harry's scar had hurt, he'd probably come storming right into the castle when he heard about this!

"I believe that," Lily said sincerely, now watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"I wouldn't do it as myself at least," he rolled his eyes at all of them staring at him. "I'd change into my dog and become his new shadow instead."

"That didn't make me feel much better," Harry muttered, as they all noticed he didn't deny it.

Hermione insisted Sirius should hear this from him, he'd find out anyways.

"Why would he?" Harry demanded uneasily, feeling bad at Sirius' flinch. He felt bad for trying to hide something like this from his Godfather, but he still had a point it would be better for his sanity if he didn't know.

"Harry, this will be a very publicized event," James sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was already front headline news, and even if Sirius isn't bothering to look at any of that, it'll be the talk of wherever he is. He will find out about this, so Hermione's right, better it come from you."

Harry groaned, but nodded his head in agreement, hoping Hermione got that through to him.

Harry asked how, and Hermione pointed out this wasn't going to be kept quiet, in a very serious tone.

"I expect she'd do a rather poor impersonation of me," Sirius said sagely, giving Harry a moment to start laughing at least.

This would be front headline news! Harry finally agreed he'd do it.

Sirius fully relaxed for the first time since he'd heard this happening to Harry. He knew it would have bothered him greatly if Harry never had written to him about this, and though it hurt that it took Hermione convincing him to do so, he hoped that it would be of some comfort to Harry that he really did have someone besides Hermione who believed him and was just trying to watch out for him.

He finished the last of his toast and threw the crust into the lake, where a tentacle could be seen coming up to snatch it away.

"Always more fascinating than feeding ducks," Remus sighed.

They went back to the castle, up to the Owlery, where Harry asked what owl he was supposed to use as he couldn't let Hedwig. Hermione suggested Ron's-

"I can't picture him asking Ron for a bottle of ink, let alone his ruddy owl," Lily sniffed.

but Harry refused the idea at once, so Hermione just reminded he could use a school owl. Harry sat down and tried to write his letter.

"This out to be interesting," James got out after a heavy sigh, for once that jealousy wasn't returning that Harry had to turn to Sirius instead of him about this. At least Harry had someone to talk to.

Harry started by saying he'd been asked to tell what was going on at Hogwarts, well here it is.

"Well that's one way to start," Lily told him with an almost straight face, fascinated her son was pretending to start this letter off in a casual manner.

He went on to explain about the Triwizard Tournament, and how he'd been made the fourth champion. Adding on that the other Hogwarts champion was a Hufflepuff named Cedric Diggory.

"I think at some point you can keep this letter to pertinent information only," Remus rolled his eyes.

He hesitated there, unclear how to put into words this ball of anxiety that seemed to be living in him.

Harry began rubbing absently at his chest, his face going vacant as he clearly all too well remembered that. Sirius scooted just that little bit closer to him, and said, "don't worry pup, we know everything works out fine."

It seemed to take a moment for that to sink in, before Harry shook himself and smiled at him, saying, "yeah, I know." He looked for a moment like he wanted to add something more, but when he didn't Sirius just decided to keep going, rather than Harry forcing anything out.

He signed off by telling Sirius to give a hello to Buckbeak.

"The concern's touching," James told Harry with a straight face, "but I'm sure out of everyone, Buckbeak is the most okay."

It was the first time they'd all collectively snorted in amusement since the start of this stupid Goblet mess, and as they knew it wasn't going to go away for a long time, they basked in the moment while they could.

He announced he was done, and Hedwig came down to perch on his shoulder with her leg out.

"Uhoh," Lily muttered, shifting around in unease, this wasn't going to be pretty.

Harry tried to explain to her he couldn't use her, but she shrieked in outrage and flew up to the highest ramparts while scratching Harry's shoulder upon take off. Harry waited until he sent the other owl off and tried to call her back down, but she refused and snapped her beak at him.

"I'm going out on a limb here, and think you really offended her," Remus winced for Harry's outraged face.

"Any owl would act like that," Lily sighed even if she did agree.

Harry lost his temper and shouted back at her that first Ron, now her, this wasn't his fault!

Causing all five of them to wince now, feeling like they'd just received a blow to the gut. It felt like most of the bad situations Harry landed in weren't his fault, and yet he always seemed to get the blame for them anyways.

Harry hadn't really believed that things would calm down once classes resumed, and one lesson showed he was right.

"Why does Harry still have to go to lessons," James demanded, seeing Harry's face get more down trodden the longer this carried on. "The Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs don't."

"Guess it's a nice distraction at least," Lily sighed, "rather than stewing in his room all day."

Either the Gryffindors were still applauding him as he passed by, or there was the rest of the houses. The Hufflepuffs in particular made it clear of their dislike for him, as they still felt they were being denied their houses glory which they rarely received.

"Guess I never really thought about it," Sirius muttered, still wanting to smack any badger kid right then for making his pup feel worse in an already terrible situation.

One Herbology class was all it took to prove this, as normal friends of his, Justin and Ernie, laughed outright when a Bouncing Bulb smacked him in the face.

"Least it was the face," Remus told Harry, casting his mind around for anything to get rid of that look again. "When we had to do them, one managed to get Sirius in the-"

"Okay, he gets it," Sirius yelped in remembered pain, making sure Remus saw his stank eye for bringing that back up before quickly reading on loudly before Harry's laughter could subside.

Ron still wasn't speaking to Harry, though Hermione was constantly going back and forth between the two trying to have normal conversations.

'Poor Hermione always seems to be taking the backlash of every fight' James couldn't help but think, but decided against voicing that one.

They sat on either side of her and responded only to her. Even Professor Sprout seemed on edge with Harry, though as she was Head of Hufflepuff House, Harry didn't have to guess why.

"Wish the teachers would show a bit more decorum," Lily muttered, thinking that she thought that far too often. The adults seemed just as bad as the students at that school some days.

Normally he would have been relieved to head down to Hagrid's

"I swear if Hagrid starts to congratulate you on this, I'll steal his umbrella and give it another crack over his head," Sirius seethed.

for Care of Magical Creatures, but this also meant coming into contact with Slytherins. Malfoy was predictable as ever, a sneer lodging into place on his face the moment he caught sight of Harry.

"Of course, can't bleeding go one moment without hearing his opinion on it," James snarled.

He greeted Harry as the champion he was, telling everyone to get their autograph books and the likes out. Then he offered if anyone wanted to make bets on how long he'd last, Malfoy could only see ten minutes.

Lily started to wring her own hands, trying to pretend she wasn't picturing that child's neck instead for making such a cruel comment about her baby.

His friends laughed along, but thankfully they were thoroughly distracted by Hagrid arriving and explaining today's lesson, which was to take the skrewts out on a walk.

Remus' mouth opened with a little pop of horror, but Sirius decided to get the full pandemonium out before anyone could regain composure.

They were to fix a leash to them and each take one out.

"He, but they, why?" James balked, trying to imagine the idea made him want to hide inside the Forest until Hagrid came to his senses.

"The only thing I can imagine is that Hagrid's trying to keep them all distracted by such a deadly task, they won't have time to be mocking Harry," Lily huffed.

"I can't imagine why it won't work," Harry told her with a raised brow.

Malfoy demanded where they'd attach it to, the stinger, the blasting end, or the sucker?

"I vote all three," Remus rolled his eyes, "see which one gets you first, we can take bets on that instead."

Hagrid demonstrated how they were to go around their middle, then called Harry over to help him with the largest one.

They all couldn't help but tense up again, not finding it a coincidence for one second Hagrid had pulled him aside.

Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to Harry and said, very seriously,

"Hagrid would do an even worse impression of me," Sirius said with absolute chipper, unbelievably pleased he was sitting by Harry so that his friends could only give him the stank eye for his running gag, his smile actually widening when still no one told him off for it, for now.

about how Harry was the school champion. Harry corrected one of the champions.

"I don't blame you for trying to deflect," Lily nodded.

"But now's not the time to make distinctions, when that wasn't his point," Remus rolled his eyes.

Hagrid watched him anxiously as he asked if Harry had any ideas who'd done this to him?

The collective sigh of relief they all felt at finally someone other than Hermione treating this situation properly felt like a massive weight had been lifted off them all.

Harry was relieved that Hagrid believed him, and Hagrid agreed of course he did, so did Dumbledore.

"Did a piss job of showing it," Sirius grumbled.

Harry agreed he wished he did know who'd done it. They watched the students for a few moments where the skrewts, who were now three feet long, were towing them around with ease,

"Lovely," Lily rolled her eyes.

"I really want to see these things in person," Remus agreed without a trace of sarcasm.

Hagrid said at least they were having fun.

"Err, who was he referring to?" James asked, considering what Harry had just described, fun didn't sound like the right word.

"The skrewts I'm sure," Harry responded with a stupid, relieved smile still on his face.

Harry assumed Hagrid meant the skrewts, because the beasts were occasionally releasing a fiery blast from their ends and dragging his classmates off their feet.

Causing maniacal giggles to erupt through the room, remembering Ron would be one of those, wishing Harry could have gotten pictures of Malfoy being the other.

Hagrid turned back to Harry and told him that it felt like everything happened to Harry.

"Yeah, that bout covered it," Sirius agreed with a touch of bitterness drowning out the tone he'd been trying for.

Harry agreed that felt true, and was apparently the reason Ron wasn't talking to him anymore.

"I think it's a little more narrower than that," Lily spat, the absolute hatred of Harry's friend treating him like that burning almost as much as what Snape had been up to.

"The fact that he's pissed he doesn't get all the attention doesn't exactly equal out to Harry's always the one in these life or death situations," James agreed with a crinkled nose.

The next few days were some of Harry's worst at Hogwarts.

"Which is saying something when you consider my second year," Harry snapped.

At least in times before when this had happened, he'd had Ron on his side. He knew he could have ignored everything around him if that were still true, but now he had loneliness pouring in from all sides.

Sirius couldn't stop a pitiful sigh, remembering that feeling all too well, never having wished it on his pup. At least he had Hermione.

The Gryffindors still only believed that Harry had entered himself and congratulated him whenever they could. He at least expected the attitude from the Slytherin's and Hufflepuffs, but had hoped at least the Ravenclaws would find it in themselves to understand. They didn't. Most clearly thought he'd been trying for a bit more glory as well.

Remus kept muttering things under his breath Lily would have told him off for, especially saying that while holding her baby, and instead told him to keep it in his head or she'd take him back.

The opposite was happening to Cedric, who in Harry's opinion, looked much more like the part of champion. Extremely handsome with dark hair and gray eyes, between him and Krum it was a wonder who was getting more attention these days. Harry once spotted the same group of girls begging for Krum's autograph, now asking the same of Cedric.

"He won't look so pretty if I get a chance to meet him," James promised.

Sirius still hadn't replied, Hedwig refused to go near him, Trelawney was now predicting his death with more certainty than ever,

"Oh thank you, at least someone's happy," Lily snapped.

and he did so poorly in his next Charms class, Flitwick assigned him and Neville alone extra homework on the Summoning Charm.

Hermione was trying to comfort him it wasn't that difficult.

"Since I'm thinking she says that about every spell," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I don't think that's too reassuring."

She'd been able to pull off the spell since the beginning of class. Hermione tried to say he just wasn't concentrating enough-

"And that felt more like something a teacher would say to help," James rolled his eyes, "so it's not even good advice."

Harry snapped he had no idea what could be distracting him, as he walked past a group of girls who gave Harry a look like he was a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"Well there's an original look at least," Remus huffed.

But hey, at least they had double Potions to look forward to!

"Bloody hell kill me now," Sirius groaned, face planting the pages for a moment to collect himself before deciding to just get this over with.

That class had turned into a weakly torture session for Harry, it was the most unpleasant thing he could imagine lately.

"Nah, there are worse things," James said with as much enthusiasm as he could as he cast his mind around, though it was difficult to come up with a worse scenario than that.

"Yeah, all your terrible predictions could come true," Remus quickly jumped in, "so you could be drowning in the lake."

"Or be trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff," James agreed with a wicked smirk.

"Those burns almost came true," Sirius nodded along, "if you'd been walking a skrewt like the rest."

Harry wasn't exactly looking reassured.

Lily had decided this had gone on long enough, so she smarted off, "-or have to deal with a dragon," with a sideways look at Sirius.

His smile disappeared at once and he glared hard at her for a moment before snapping, "now look what you've done, gone and killed all the fun." He turned back to the pages with a humph of protest.

He'd spent the previous one's with Hermione at his elbow muttering 'ignore them' under her breath, and didn't see this one going any better.

"That's not helpful advice either," James groaned, remembering the more vivid reaction Ron had once given of throwing a crocodile heart in Malfoy's face, now that was useful. You'd think the smartest girl in their year would have something wiser to say about this.

They arrived in front of the door to see the students lined up as usual, though oddly most of the Slytherins seemed to be wearing badges. For a moment Harry thought they were S. P. E. W.

"Hermione couldn't pay them to pull that off," Remus raised a brow in surprise.

but upon reading saw they were support Cedric badges, the real Hogwarts Champion.

Lily groaned, fighting back every part of her that wanted to scream that they were all being little shits. If Harry wasn't involved in this, she doubted Malfoy would be supporting Cedric, he was just doing this to be an arse to her son.

Malfoy looked extremely pleased with himself as he told Harry that wasn't all they could do

"I already hate this, and yet it's going to get worse," James said without a shadow of a doubt.

as he tapped the badge and it instead said Potter Stinks.

"Congratulations Prongs," Sirius hissed.

Hermione told them with heavy sarcasm that was so brilliant. Ron was standing up the ways near Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing along like most, but he wasn't wearing a badge either.

"Well there's something," James sighed, running his hand through his hair in an effort not to form a fist.

Malfoy offered one to Granger, telling her if she took it not to touch his skin, he didn't want Mudblood on it.

"That's it! A ferrets too good for this one. Someone turn him into a bug and squish him already!" Sirius howled in outrage, unbelievably even more incensed than before now that he'd said that!

"Won't find me stopping you," Harry hissed, thinking back to that built up anger he'd been feeling at Hogwarts for so long and hoping it would snap on him.

Something burst inside Harry's chest as he drew his wand, though Hermione tried to stop him.

"Don't you Harry him," Lily snarled, "you've punched him for saying less."

Malfoy drew his own as he began taunting Potter.

"He shouldn't have had the time," Remus snapped, "you should have shot a curse the moment your wand cleared your pocket."

"Or shot one while your wand was still in your pocket," Sirius agreed, "sneak attacks get the best results."

They stood frozen for a moment before they shot spells at the same time, Harry using 'Furnunculus'

"Tame-" James raised a brow.

"-but acceptable," Sirius shrugged.

"For starters," Remus smirked.

while Malfoy used 'Densaugeo.'

"Don't recognize that one," Lily said in surprise.

"Knowing Malfoy, I doubt it's a nice one," Harry frowned, trying to think back what it had done to him.

The spells hit each other and ricocheted off onto others, Harry's hitting Goyle, and Malfoy's hitting Hermione.

"Shit," they all yelped, sitting up much straighter in their seats to hear what had happened.

Goyle screamed in pain as he felt his nose, where boils were springing up all over. Hermione stumbled back in shock, clutching her mouth.

"What did he do to her?" James growled.

Ron jumped forward, trying to pull her hands away to see the damage,

Harry felt the briefest bit of something, relieved his friend was still in there enough to care about their mutual friend. It was still being drowned with worry about Hermione.

it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Oh no," Lily sighed.

Hermione's buck teeth were growing well past anything average, quickly elongating down past her lip so that she looked like a beaver, and still growing.

"Oh that poor thing," Lily couldn't help but coo.

"Harry definitely sent a better curse," Sirius said with a raised brow, "what exactly was that spell meant to do? Elongate whatever feature it hit?"

"Is that really the point now?" She snapped at him.

Sirius gave a halfhearted shrug, he felt bad for Hermione of course, but he was far more concerned Malfoy would keep going while Harry was distracted.

Snape arrived then, pointing at Malfoy and demanded he explain.

"And still this situation is going to somehow get worse," James seethed.

Malfoy exclaimed that Potter had attacked him, while Harry corrected they'd attacked at the same time!

Remus was probably the only one who thought that Harry had technically drawn first, not that he'd admit that to his dying breath, Malfoy more than deserved it.

Then they each showed the injuries caused. Snape took a look at Goyle and sent him off to the Hospital Wing, but when Ron dragged Hermione forward and showed what Malfoy had done to her, her teeth now reached her collar amidst the giggling going on behind Snape's back,

"I know for a fact they don't have to bother hiding," Remus snapped.

Snape said he saw no difference.

The others mouths flopped open in horror, apparently too outraged to start yelling at him on top of everything else. It was likely to wear off in moments, but James recovered first. Taking all of his built up frustration and anger that he was trying his hardest not to use on Ron, he had no problems directing them at this wastrel. He began calling Snape every single thing he could think of for what he'd just done to that girl, still a child in respect to when this had happened. At least when he treated Harry like garbage he understood the reason, but with the other kids like Neville and Hermione, he didn't bleeding understand why he seemed to go out of his way to do this to them. Lily or anyone else couldn't blame this on him and Snivellus' war, to take it out on these random kids. Remus had been victimized all his life and he'd never done a bleeding thing like this! He pegged a lot of it down to how he must have developed into a Death Eater, how those loons must have turned an already screwed up, twisted little man into someone whose sole purpose was to make a bunch of kids cry on a regular basis. The only explanation he could come up with was because he was an arse!

The yelling was forced to die down as it so often did because the baby in the room began crying right along with them, and no one wanted to hear that noise. Remus was having problems keeping him simmered down though, mostly because he was so on edge himself, and it was happening so frequently. It truly was sad they couldn't seem to go one chapter anymore without finding something to upset their charge, but no one wanted to put him up either, like they hoped if they just kept going they'd find a reason to keep him near.

Hermione began crying as she tore back up the stairs out of sight.

Lily was nearly crying herself, though in frustration. How her oldest friend who'd always been so kind to her could actually reduce a child to tears like that! It used to be unthinkable, now she was regretting every moment she couldn't curse Snape into oblivion.

Harry and Ron began shouting in unison what they thought of Snape for that, causing such a racket that it echoed around them and exact words couldn't be picked out,

"Wish you could have done worse," Sirius growled.

but Snape got the gist of it. He took away fifty points from Gryffindor and gave each of them a detention.

Remus made such a noise, it sounded like he was being strangled, he just couldn't put into words how wrong this was and that no one ever stopped him from doing it!

Harry's ears were ringing with injustice as they stormed to a table, wishing he could curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces.

"Don't know what's stopping you," James snarled, "Dumbledore shouldn't even stand for that!"

Ron at first slammed his stuff down next to Harry, but after a moment of collecting himself he moved again to sit by Dean and Seamus.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Lily practically shrieked. "I am going to crack his head open next! How long is that little twat going to hold this against you? If Hermione believes you and he clearly still cares enough about her to stand up for her, why wouldn't her word be good enough for him even if yours wasn't?"

Harry said nothing, no one actually had an answer for her.

Harry spent the lesson picturing all the horrific things he could do to Snape

"Least you found something pleasant to do in there," Remus snapped.

like using the Cruciatus Curse on him, leaving him a twitching mess on the ground.

That gave at least four of them a little twitch, some of their anger ebbing away to be replaced with shock at such a thing. Here was Lily's proof. Harry, and most likely the rest of his classmates, clearly weren't old enough to have learned those spells yet if they just threw them around like this. Even if Harry didn't mean it, though the ugly look on his face showed he wasn't quite repentant yet, that still wasn't just some casual toss around.

Snape kept focus on the lesson, as he instructed their antidotes were to be complete, and he couldn't wait to test them, his black eyes lingering on Harry. Harry held no doubts that Snape meant to poison him.

"He, is, not," Lily got out through grounded teeth. "I don't give a damn about the stupid magic keeping us in here, I will dig my way out and murder him if he puts a damned drop of it anywhere near you."

Harry's mind instead nursed the idea of dragging his cauldron up front and slamming it down on Snape's greasy head.

"Points for originality on that one," Sirius said grimly.

Then there was a knock at the door, and Colin Creevey came in.

"Is he stalking you in the middle of your classes now?" Remus asked rhetorically, knowing that wasn't the case, but it was fun to pick at anyways rather than dealing with things they couldn't.

He went up to Snape's desk and told that Harry was needed upstairs, the usual smile on his face slipping away as he watched Snape's expression.

"What's he getting blamed for now," James snapped of no one. Honestly though he was pleased, they all were, getting him out of that room for any reason.

Snape said Potter was to be here for the rest of his class, he could go when it was over.

Colin persisted though, saying Bagman had asked for him.

"What's Bagman want?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Not quite sure off the top of my head," Sirius frowned.

All of the champions were needed for some kind of photo shoot.

Harry went startling red and buried his face in his hands, thinking he'd now rather be poisoned by Snape than have Colin say that!

"Photographs for the champions, of course," Remus sighed.

"This is what Hermione meant earlier," Lily groaned, "they're going to plaster you across the papers like a show."

Harry would have given anything in the world for Colin not to have said that, his eyes glancing to Ron who was watching the ceiling.

"I'd love to shove him in front of a camera, if there was ever a time he actually didn't want it," Sirius snapped.

"Or shove the camera into him," Remus agreed.

Snape agreed Harry could leave so long as he came back, but Colin still said that the Champions were to take all of their stuff with them, they wouldn't be back-

"He might not be doing the best job," James groaned, "but give the kid points for being persistent."

"Not many students would have said all that to Snape, they'd have scampered back out and gotten Bagman to tell himself," Lily agreed.

Snape finally conceded for Harry to get out. Harry got one more flash of all the Potter Stinks badges as he left.

James was grinding his teeth together to stop himself from still yelling about those stupid things, wishing he could jam one of those down someone's throat with or without magic.

Colin began speaking to Harry the moment they'd left, going on about how amazing this was.

"Not the word I'd use," Remus said tightly.

Harry bitterly agreed as he asked Colin why they'd want photos? Colin guessed it had something to do with the Daily Prophet, and Harry couldn't even fake enthusiasm for more publicity.

"You can just hear the pure sincerity in that," Sirius groused.

Colin told him good luck when they seemed to reach the right spot before going off.

"Wait, why was he even the one to go get Harry?" Lily asked. "Shouldn't he have been in class?"

James only had to pause a moment as he cast his mind around before saying, "I picture it like this. Bagman was saying how someone needed to go collect Harry for this, but no one on hand knew which class he was in. Colin was on the way to his own class and over heard this, offered to go get him, and was allowed to be late for his class in order to fetch him, less of a scene if another student does it, at least I would hope," he finished with some mumbling at the end.

Harry entered to find an unused classroom, with Bagman already inside talking to a woman.

Harry felt a wave of hatred wash through him as he first remembered catching sight of this person. Though he frowned, not understanding why, and didn't say anything aloud so not attracting anyone's attention to it for now. For some reason though, he thought they wouldn't have long to wait to join him.

Krum was hovering by himself in a corner.

"You know, for some star Quidditch player, has he actually ever been seen doing anything about it?" Remus asked, pleased beyond words to have finally found something fun to think about this chapter.

"Nope," Lily agreed, though her like for the guy went up because of it.

Cedric and Fleur were standing about, Fleur obviously tossing her hair around as they spoke.

"Flirting is one way to get a good mood," Lily rolled her eyes.

A shorter man with a camera was eyeing her but hovering near the other woman.

"Can't honestly blame him," Sirius snickered.

Bagman caught sight of Harry first and pulled him in the rest of the room, explaining it was time for the wand weighing ceremony

"The what?" Harry interrupted with some nerves, clutching his wand a little tighter to him.

"Not sure," Lily said honestly. "We've only heard about the big things to do with this, but Bagman makes it sound like another sort of tradition so," she finished with a shrug, at least at ease with this part that she hadn't heard about rather than the abundance of things she had.

Harry asked what that was, and Bagman explained a professional was going to come and check to make sure their wands were fully functional.

"Ah, that makes sense I guess," Remus nodded, "though honestly people should get their wands checked every few years anyways, just to be safe."

The expert was off speaking with Dumbledore, but he and the other heads would be along shortly, then they'd have a photo opp. Then he introduced Rita Skeeter.

Yep, Harry was right, the moment that name registered they were all back to insanely agitated as they began muttering death threats at this stupid woman for having a go at Arthur like that.

She was doing a small piece on this tournament for the Prophet.

"Small indeed," Sirius sniffed without a trace of belief.

She corrected it wouldn't be that small, with her eyes on Harry.

"Least she admits it," Lily curled up her lip.

Harry described her as having elaborate curled hair and a heavy jaw with jeweled spectacles and two inch brightly colored nails matching her outfit. She asked Bagman if it would be alright if she had a quick private word with Harry?

"What's she asking him for," James snapped, "ask Harry, he's the one who should answer!"

Bagman agreed he didn't have a problem if Harry didn't.

"Asking after the fact doesn't cut it," Remus snapped.

Harry's reply was to say err,

"I didn't want to be rude," Harry grumbled, a sense telling him he wouldn't care about that long.

but Rita took that as a yes and dragged him out of the room into the nearest cupboard, referring to it as cozy.

"Really?" Sirius scowled. "She couldn't have just led you to another classroom, that's just weird."

Harry watched her with unease as she closed the door and dug out some parchment and a bright green quill, but no ink. She asked if Harry minded she use a Quick-Quotes Quill?

"What's that?" Harry asked, his unease rising with every word she said.

"Not sure," Lily's frown deepened despite her words.

Harry asked what that was, and Rita explained it was a hands free Quill. She sucked on the end for a moment and balanced it on the paper, then began a testing sentence by stating her name and job title. The quill reacted at once, scribbling across the paper

"That's pretty useful," Remus said with honest interest. "Though I do wonder how that thing works without ink."

"Wish I had one of those," Sirius agreed, "would have made my homework more bearable if I hadn't had to write it all."

"Honestly, it sounds like a Self-Writing Quill," James shrugged, "but that still requires ink. Maybe this is the next version of it."

but upon the paper it wrote out that the attractive Rita Skeeter, and her savage quill who often punctured inflated reputations- she cut it off there

Lily did a double take on reading that though, saying slowly, "well, not exactly like a Self-Writing one then."

"Maybe it's magicked to take in the details of what the speakers seeing, and thinking, as well as what's being said," Remus thought out. "It's why you'd need to suck on it, to personalize it, though I still don't understand what exactly it's writing with."

"Did you actually hear what it was saying though," Sirius was still frowning at this little thing. "Attractive? Punctured inflated reputations? I'm not liking this thing if this is how it's going to be writing about Harry."

When no one answered him, most likely in agreement judging by their suddenly wary faces, he decided to keep reading.

tearing that piece away and placing down a fresh sheet before turning to Harry and asked what made him enter the Tournament?

"This could be good for him," James groaned while he ran his hand through his hair, already completely frustrated that this wasn't going to go the way he was hoping but still trying. "Get his side of the story out there."

"We've already had previous writings of hers to show what an arse she is," Lily sniffed, "I wouldn't hold your breath dear."

Harry was distracted from answering as he read upside down about the Quill's description of his ugly scar not quite deterring from his charming face- Skeeter instructed he not watch the quill and repeated her question.

Harry returned he hadn't put his name in. Rita was unbelieving as she told him he wouldn't get in trouble for telling.

Remus made a noise like someone had trodden on Hickory, though none of them sounded a bit better as they were already sick of saying that on Harry's behalf, they couldn't imagine how frustrated he must have been by now.

Harry insisted he hadn't answered, and she instead changed to ask how he felt about the coming tasks?

"I hate her already," Sirius' scowl kept growing the more he got out. "Please tell me you get up, and leave!"

Harry just muttered something inarticulate.

Harry agreed he was a bit nervous as Rita pressed that a lot of Champions had died, had he thought about that?

"Frequently," Lily hissed.

Harry tried to say the tournament was supposed to be safer this year, his eyes still watching the progress of the Quill. Rita then reminded he'd faced death before,

"How would she know about any of that?" Harry demanded.

"I don't think she's referring to any of your times at school," James muttered, making Harry flinch and back down.

and ask if that affected him? Harry could only get out an err before she kept going, throwing questions out about why he'd been tempted to join the Tournament- but Harry cut her off in the beginnings of irritation he hadn't entered!

"Beginnings?" Remus huffed.

She instead switched to asking about his parents.

Said two parents gave an automatic flinch that they were so used to by now they barely felt the sting of it anymore. Barely.

Wondering how they would feel about this, angry, worried, proud?

"Actually, in reverse order, but not too far off," James rolled his eyes at least giving Harry a small smirk for a moment.

Harry's temper was rising now as he wanted to snap how he was supposed to know how his parents felt? Then his eyes caught a bit of what the Quill was saying, about how he was starting to tear up about his parents, and he snapped that wasn't true!

"Most likely you had that expression," Remus told the slowly growing murderous look with a straight face, "in which case I do wonder why Rita hasn't tried to run from that cupboard yet."

She hadn't a chance to respond when the door was opened by Dumbledore.

"That's, probably not the first time he's found something like that," Sirius muttered to no one's amusement. Did his mind really have to go there?!

Rita greeted him pleasantly, stuffing her things out of sight as she asked if he'd liked her piece on the International Confederation of Wizards Conference? Dumbledore happily agreed it was as enchantingly nasty as ever, he'd loved the part in particular where he'd been referred to as an obsolete dingbat.

"I think for once I don't want to argue with her," Lily muttered with a touch of poison, still too strung up about Rita having cornered her son into all of that.

Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed, saying she'd just been trying to put down how out of date some found him- but Dumbledore cut her off saying they could discuss this later, for now Harry was needed out of this cupboard.

"Actually I'd prefer to keep him there," Sirius rolled his eyes, "sans Rita of course, but he'd probably be better off than dealing with that school."

"Who knew a cupboard would ever be good for me again," Harry snickered, though he was the only one who did at that unpleasant reminder.

Harry went back into the first room to see everyone present now including Ollivander.

"Not surprised he's the expert," Remus shrugged.

He introduced himself, then called Fleur up first. He inspected her wand, had it shoot a few sparks, than told of the length, inflexible nature, type of wood, and was shocked to find a veela hair.

"Now that's an interesting choice," Lily said in surprise.

"Wonder if it ever has any weird side effects," Remus agreed.

Fleur agreed it had been her own grandmothers.

"So she is part veela," Sirius' interest grew ten fold. "Can't say I'm not intrigued to meet this one."

"She's not even half your age yet," Remus reminded, "move along."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at him.

Harry mentally filed that away to tell Ron

"Oh yeah, I can't because he's being an arse," Harry grumbled to himself.

then he remembered Ron wasn't speaking to him.

Ollivander declared her wand sound, and sent her back before calling up Cedric, giving him the same once over and retelling the story of how the unicorn in this particular wand had been over seventeen hands, and nearly gored him when he'd plucked the tail.

"What a lovely steed," James snickered.

Then he noticed the high polished wood, and Cedric agreed he'd done so just last night.

Harry looked surprised at the very idea, it had never occurred to him, but then he looked around and saw the others rolling their eyes at such a practice. Cedric seemed even more vain than Krum lately.

Harry noticed his own wand was covered in his fingers smudges. He tried to gather some of the material from his pants and rub at them,

"Oh don't freak out about that pup," Sirius rolled his eyes. "I've only heard of people doing that who are in show business type things where their wand is regularly scrutinized. Most people don't bother with it."

"Cedric probably only did because he may have had foreknowledge of this happening," Lily agreed.

"Actually, he said he did it regularly," Remus corrected.

"Well then cheers to him," James rolled his eyes, "but it's still worthless."

but then his wand shot sparks in protest, and Fleur gave him a condescending look, so he desisted.

Though that at least gave them all a giggle.

Ollivander soon declared that wand done as well, before calling Krum forward. He shuffled up, scowled as he passed over his wand, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets as it was examined.

"He's just so pleasant the more I hear," Lily rolled her eyes.

Ollivander seemed intrigued by the Gregorovitch design.

Harry jerked like someone had just electrocuted him, though no one had any idea of why. When Harry looked at them for some kind of explanation though, Sirius answered, "he's another wand maker like Ollivander, but lives pretty far off. Most likely in the vicinity of the Durmstrang students, I've only ever heard of him by name."

"He's got some odd rumors spread around him," Remus shrugged, "but we've no idea about him really."

"Odd rumors like what?" Harry pressed eagerly, wondering if this was where his odd feeling was coming from.

"Oh just some tosh about how he based his designs off the Elder Wand," Lily tried to wave it all off, "same bout of nonsense as Ollivander supposedly using Merlin-"

"What's the Elder Wand?!" Harry half shouted as a gong was going off in his head telling him to persist this!

The others looked honestly concerned now as James placed a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder, gently instructing, "just an old kid's myth, relax Harry. We'll show it to you later if you'd really like."

Harry deflated like a punctured balloon, whatever trail his mind had been trying to lead him down instantly diverted by being distracted by his dad. He nodded with genuine disappointment, but didn't push the matter for now, though honestly the others wanted him to slightly, what on earth could Harry get up to that would lead him questioning all of this?

He gave it the same run through as the others, and declared it more than passable. Finally it was Harry's turn.

"Wish you hadn't gone last," Sirius told him while trying to catch his eye, as Harry was still rubbing furiously at his temple for whatever had been bothering him before, "I feel like that just puts more attention on you."

Harry didn't acknowledge him.

Harry got uneasily to his feet as he handed over his wand, remembering the first time he'd gotten it like it was yesterday.

That distracted Harry, as he came back to this story with another shudder, though at least they all understood this one. Even they weren't entirely sure what to make of that scrap of information, having no idea where to begin to understand what it meant to their boy.

How Ollivander had gone through many wands before handing Harry the one he had now, and after a bit of whittling on Harry's part, Ollivander had finally explained how it's core shared a relation to Voldemort's. Harry had never mentioned this to anyone.

"Can't honestly blame you," James shivered, it still gave him a chill to think about it.

He didn't want people to know, as he didn't care what his wand was related to, feeling it as unfortunate as Petunia being his mother's sister.

"Can't deny I love that resemblance," Lily rolled her eyes.

Harry did hope Ollivander wouldn't share that story now.

"Well he shouldn't," Remus scowled at once at the idea. "That goofy story about Cedric's wand was harmless, but that's personal information about Harry."

"Never seems to stop anyone else," Harry reminded bitterly.

He was sure the Quick-Quotes Quill might explode.

"Least that could be interesting," Sirius huffed.

Ollivander didn't though, putting Harry's wand through like the rest and declaring himself done. Dumbledore said they were all free to go back to class, though it may just be faster to go to dinner-

"Yeah, I vote for that one," James grumbled, still smarting over that stupid potions class on top of everything else going on.

but then the man with the camera reminded for the pictures. Rita agreed, plus they needed some of everyone individually.

"Can I not!" Harry protested, wanting to take his shirt and cover his whole head up just to stop this from happening.

"If only love," Lily agreed grimly.

The process took ages as everyone tried to find a good position. Madam Maxime threw everyone into shadows, so eventually they had her sitting down and everyone standing around her. Krum kept skulking to the back

"Where I'm sure Harry was trying to join him," James scowled.

while the photographer tried to keep Fleur in the center

"Can't blame him for that one though," Sirius grinned.

and Rita kept jumping forward to put Harry there instead. Finally everyone was satisfied and free to go.

Harry was pure scarlet in the face by the end of all that, wishing he could just live off of polyjuice potion and be anyone else beside himself...wait-

The others hadn't even been laughing at his expense, they'd been too busy feeling sorry for the poor boy for all of this, which is why Sirius hadn't hesitated to see a dawning look on Harry's face be wiped away when he continued.

Harry went down to dinner, but Hermione never showed up, so Harry thought she was probably still getting her teeth shrunk. He went back to his dormitory and ran across Ron.

"Pleasant," Sirius growled, thinking he'd rather take another shot at Rita than this twit!

He simply stated that he had an owl waiting upstairs and when their detentions were, before walking out of sight. Harry considered going after him, unsure whether to talk to him or hit him

"The second," four of them muttered under their breath.

both seemed quite appealing -

"I'll take that," Remus agreed.

but decided Sirius' response was more important so went to read that. Sirius began by saying he didn't want to write everything down in case this was read by anyone else,

"Are you going to make that face at me every time I say that," Sirius demanded without looking up.

"We're just so proud of you showing off your head," Lily told him pleasantly, "we don't get to see it too much."

Sirius lifted one hand, and one finger in particular, away from the book in her direction before continuing.

and instead said he wanted a face-to-face on midnight of the 22nd of November in the Gryffindor common room, asking if Harry could make sure he was alone then?

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" James asked in surprise.

"Wouldn't be impossible for him to sneak in there again as Padfoot," Remus pointed out, though his face too looked more concerned than eager for the idea. "Though why the common room, if you were going to sneak back in, you could have chosen any more vacant place in the castle."

"Would you all relax," Sirius groaned, still trying not to look up at them all. "I got away with this for over a year, would you bleeding give me some credit."

"All on your own," Harry reminded, vestiges of fear still lingering as he tried to get through to Sirius what a terrible idea this was. "The more people who you try to make contact with though, the more likely-"

"You're not going to do anything to get me caught," Sirius cut him off, finally looking up to glare at his pup. "Now relax, the lot of you, this has been depressing enough without you all harping on me."

They all gave in, for now.

Going on to say that this whole thing made him uneasy, someone having tried to hurt Harry right under Dumbledore and Moody's nose.

"Not going to argue with any of that though," James sighed.

"The fact that there's something wrong with both of their noses though doesn't feel encouraging right now," Remus agreed.

He instructed for Harry to be on the watch and still pass along anything usual he saw, and told to give him an answer about that date as soon as possible.

"Chapter's done," Sirius sighed as he passed the book to Harry.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Reading the books #GoF #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Lily Potter #siruis black

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lalainajanes · 4 years

Note

Surprise + 1. “OH you’re jealous!” + KC

Called Out

Caroline’s got her back pressed to a brick wall, barely aware of the people passing in front of her. It’s not like her – she’d touched down in New York City three days ago and has been hungrily absorbing every new sight and sound. At the moment, she’s having a pretty intense personal crisis.

She and Klaus have been chasing down separate leads for the last few hours. When she’d walked into the restaurant they’d planned to meet in, found him leaning against the bar, in full flirt mode, the punch of jealousy she’d felt had her flight instincts kicking into high gear.

Practicality had kept her from going too far. Klaus is doing her a favor; she needs to know what he’s found out today. She just needs a minute (or twelve) to collect herself. A drink might help, but that would mean going back inside.

When someone pauses in front of her, Caroline keeps her head tipped up. She’s hoping they’ll move along (she can’t be polite to a good samaritan right now, will totally eat a creep). A vaguely familiar voice exclaims, “Hey, I know you. Long way from Mystic Falls, aren’t you, darling?”

She jerks in surprise when she spots Kol Mikaelson in front of her. Without thinking, Caroline reaches out and pokes his chest. He’s warm and solid under what’s probably an exorbitantly expensive t-shirt. She knows ghosts are a thing; she hadn’t known Kol wasn’t one of them.

Kol traps her hand, keeps it pressed to his chest with a smirk, “Why Miss Forbes, that’s awfully forward of you. Nik’ll fly into quite a tantrum if we steal away. Sounds fun.”

“How are you not dead?” Caroline asks, ignoring the rest of Kol’s speech. Klaus has told her a few stories over the years in which Kol appears. Caroline’s gotten the impression that Kol enjoys the sound of his own voice a little too much.

He releases her, rocks back on his heels. “Did my brother fail to mention that little feat? It happened ages ago, not long after he left your sad little town.”

Caroline’s mouth falls open, and a quick flash of anger pushes the jealousy aside. She’d thought she and Klaus had become friends in the years since she’d first made a trip to New Orleans. That time she’d needed his help, but she’d gone back (and had met up with Klaus in other locations) dozens of times since. Maybe she’d misconstrued things if he hadn’t bothered to mention something as significant as the resurrection of a member of his family.

“He’s given me free rein since. I’ve been traveling, and unbothered save for the odd check-in and reminder not to make myself conspicuous. It’s been bliss.”

“Huh,” Caroline says. Not exactly eloquent, but she’s processing.

“I only had to agree not to remove Elena Gilbert’s pretty head from her shoulders. Nik thought it would upset you.”

Kol’s casual revelations are so not helping Caroline’s emotional turmoil. “Um, obviously.”

He makes a noise of disgust. “She’s the worst doppelganger.”

“Katherine smothered me with a pillow so. Hard disagree.”

Kol opens his mouth – probably to argue – and Caroline has no desire to get sucked into an argument that’s sure to be ridiculous. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, long and exaggerated, “Nik commanded my presence. Coaxing witches into helping with impossible situations is a bit of a specialty of mine.”

It’s impossible to miss the lewd undertone. Caroline wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” Kol’s eyes sharpen, his head tipping to the side as he glances from her to the door. “Why are you skulking out here? Nik’s inside, according to his last message. Feigning off the advances of a witch we can’t currently piss off.”

“Ha, didn’t look like feigning to me,” Caroline mutters. Wishes she hadn’t immediately after because her bitterness had been palpable. Kol’s impressively self-absorbed, but he’s not an idiot.

“Ohhh,” he drawls, the syllable drawn out and dripping with glee. “You’re jealous.”

Caroline bites back a denial – she’s sure it will only encourage Kol.

“Nik will be tickled when I tell him. It’s a bit pathetic how he’s jumped to help you with your problems over the years. But it’s paid off and far sooner than he’d anticipated.”

Caroline doesn’t have the will power to swallow her offense. “Excuse me, I’ve asked Klaus for exactly three favors. In fourteen years.”

And yeah, maybe they’d been kind of big. But the problems hadn’t really even been hers. Klaus had helped her and Bonnie break the spell Kai had placed on Elena. He’d called off the calls for the doppelganger to be brought to him, allowing Elena and Damon to have a sickeningly perfect white picket fence life.

And now he’s helping her find a way for Bonnie to be immortal and keep her magic.

“That’s approximately three more favors than he’s granted anyone else. He’s only ever helpful when he’s got something to gain.”

“Maybe he’s growing as a person.”

Kol laughs at that. Loudly. Several people on the street look over in interest. He shakes his head, “You’re adorably optimistic.”

“Two of my best qualities.”

She’s also not a coward.

Caroline pushes off from the wall, smooths her hands over her dress. She’d bought it today, and it’s freaking fantastic – blue and clingy, tiny straps and a low back. She’d privately wondered about Klaus’ reaction to the dress in the fitting room, might have drifted off into an idle fantasy about how easily it could be torn away.

Kol’s watching her, amused. “Do you not want him to know about the jealousy then?”

She’s fairly certain Klaus will be able to tell – he’s always been annoyingly good at reading her, even when he’d barely known her, and she’d done her damndest to hide from him.

Caroline practices a smile. She hopes it’ll at least fool whatever contacts they’re trying to cajole tonight. “I’m sure we’ll discuss it later.”

“I’m glad I’m staying at a different hotel. Something tells me you’ll get loud.”

Caroline ignores the innuendo. “Let’s go in.”

“Ladies first.”

Caroline glares though she’s not actually annoyed, “So you can stare at my ass?”

“Isn’t that why you picked the dress?”

He may have a point. It’s petty - one of her worst qualities, Caroline’s made her peace with it – but maybe she can distract Klaus with a little jealousy of his own.

The crowd inside the bar is thicker than it had been earlier, and Kol sticks close behind her as they weave towards where Klaus now is. He’s commandeered the best booth in the place. Kol’s hand lands on her back, in a respectful place, surprisingly. “I’m going to go get a drink. Try not to be in a compromising position when I return, hmm?”

Klaus is alone, now. Caroline’s relieved, doesn’t bother to try to deny it, even internally.

Progress.

Klaus slips out when Caroline approaches, rests a hand on her hip while he brushes his mouth across her cheek. “Did you have a productive day, love?”

She loops her arms over his shoulder, keeps him close. Klaus goes rigid for a scant moment – she’s never hugged him before. “I did,” she murmurs. “I’ll tell you all about it. But first, I ran into your brother outside. Is there a reason you never mentioned you’d brought Kol back?”

Caroline pulls away so she can see his face, and Klaus is genuinely confused. “Did I not?”

“I would have remembered that.”

He lifts a shoulder, “I can’t imagine why it’s never come up. I should have thought it would be obvious – I wasn’t about to leave him dead when I had the means to bring him back.”

It’s such an arrogant statement, and so Klaus. She can’t even be annoyed. Of course he’d casually break the laws of life and death and not think it worth mentioning. He’s Klaus Mikaelson – most powerful being in the world.

A laugh bubbles out of her and she can’t resist hugging him again. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little ridiculous?”

“No one who lived,” Klaus says mildly.

“I guess I’m lucky you like me.” His eyes darken, and his mouth opens. Caroline brushes past him before he can respond.

They have business first. Caroline can see how the next few minutes will play out if Klaus were to refute that his regard for her is as simple as like. He’s got a gift for perfect tempting words. She’s always had trouble resisting the way he looks at her – like their alone even when there are a hundred other people nearby. Caroline’s about ninety-five percent of the way to admitting that her feelings are more significant too. She knows she’s got decisions to make. She remembers how freaking good Klaus can make her feel, even if the one time they’d indulged they’d been crunched for time and in a less than ideal location.

Without a quick subject change, they’ll end up providing Kol with blackmail fodder.

She snags his hand, keeps it even when they’ve slid into the booth. Klaus seems fine with how much she’s touching him, has taken it upon himself to return the favor. He brushes her hair back, his fingers lingering on the strap of her dress.

Caroline’s sure it’ll end up snapped by the end of the night, and she’s not mad about it.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #with bonus Kol

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dingobabywrites · 4 years

Text

so, in light of recent events, people have been discussing when they think Dean and Cas realized that they were in love with each other. While I 100% believe dean realized in purgatory, I dont think Castiel realized until Dean broke Naomi's connection.

BUT!!!!

I also think that is around the same time Sam realized it too. Obviously Charlie already knew ( " what about Castiel, he seems helpful and..Dreamy" she's a lesbian. That comment wasn't for Her!") I think Charlie was the one to point it out to sam and I think the two of them agreed to keep it to themselves since neither of those two would have been able to handle that information. So, I wrote a little thing about how I think it went down.

I also wanted to give myself an explanation for those wierd looks and mystery note from the end of the episode...so yeah...here's that.

Sam hobbled down the hall to the guest room, his hand still throbbing from knocking Dean unconcious . It was…worrisome, to say the least, that he was having this much trouble with healing from such a minor injury, not to mention the other things that were happening to his body; the fatigue, coughing up blood. Troubling, but, as much as he hated to admit it, worth it. Dean had been pissing him off more than usual lately anyway. It wasn't just the trials. Sure, he was frustrated with Dean for thinking he wasn't strong enough to handle them (he had fought against Lucifer in his own mind for christ's sake) but it was everything else too. His loyalty to Benny still didn't sit right with him. He had been so quick to kill Amy, just because she was a monster. He didn't care that she was just feeding her kid. She was just a monster to him. But for some reason, Benny got a pass. Sure, the guy saved both their asses, he was grateful for that, but even Bobby knew it was wrong.

And then there was Cas.

Sam wanted nothing more, than to tell Dean that he should have learned his lesson the first time with the Angel. It wasn't like he didn't like Castiel. Of course he did. He was appreciative of everything the guy had done for them. Dean was right that he had saved their asses more than once. It was just….at the end of the day, whether they liked him or not, Castiel had betrayed them. He understood that perfectly. What he couldn't understand, was why dean was so suprised by him doing it again. Hell, Dean had been the one to bring up that fact that the guy wasn't acting right since he got back and yet, there he was, praying to him, putting his trust in him again. It was maddening, to say the least. He had tried to talk to his brother about it, but Dean immediately shut down.

So, yeah, his hand was still hurting, but it was damn worth it.

He turned the corner to find Charlie stuffing her things into her duffle. He knocked on the door frame with his uninjured hand. "Hey, there."

"Sam." She half smiled, when she turned around, her eyes still a little bleary from crying. "Hi, I'm just…just packing up to head out and…" she sniffled and plopped down on the bed, covering her face as she began crying anew.

Sam walked into the room and pulled up the desk chair, sitting down in front of her. "Dean told me what happened, while you two were under." He said. "I am so sorry about your mom, Charlie." He placed his hand on her shoulder as she began crying harder. "I know how hard it is to let go like that…"

"Dean was right," she sniffed. "I needed to stop holding on."

Sam let out a bitter scoff and pulled his hand back, squeezing both hands between his legs. "Yeah, Dean's always right, isn't he? Too bad he can't follow his own advice."

Charlie looked up, her eyes sad and confused. "Holding on to my mom was the reason I was stuck there. If he hadn't made me let go, I would have died.we both would have."

Sam shook his head at himself, trying his damndest to let go of his own bitterness to be there for his friend. "Ya, I know. I'm sorry…just…I know you're hurting right now, I just want you to know I'm here for you."

Charlie sniffed again, wiping her arm across her face to dry it before leaning back and staring at Sam. "I don't get it." She said, as firmly as possible.

Sam, leaned back and shrugged. "Me neither, really. I always thought all djinn fed off happiness. It's like every time we figure stuff out, something new comes along to throw us off our game."

"Not that." Charlie said, waving his statement off. Sam looked at her, confused, not sure what she was referring to. She took a breath and pulled a book out of her duffle throwing it on Sam's lap. 'Mystery Spot' By Carver Edlund. "You say these books happened in real life. That everything written in them actually went down…but the past two times I've been around you guys…you certainly dont act like you do in the books."

Sam skimmed the first page of the book and chuckled, tossing it back on the bed next to Charlie. "Yeah, well, things have just been different, I guess."

"So, you used to love and support each other, no matter what and now you just, what? Stopped?" She asked.

"It's…" Sam scoffed and shook his head. "things are just, more complicated now…"

"You maybe, wanna elaborate there buddy?" She asked. "I may be a genius, but a mind reader, I am not."

Sam let out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He figured it might feel better to at least get something off his chest. "To be honest Charlie, I dont think Dean is cut out for the job anymore."

"Why not?"

"His judgment, for one thing." Sam answered. "I don't know, just ever since he got back from purgatory… he's been…it's like he can't think straight anymore. He used to be no nonsense when it came to killing monsters and only trusting people he knew he could trust and now… I mean, I get it. Purgatory was rough on him, but the guy has literally been to Hell and back. I don't see why this time is any different."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked softly.

"I mean like, being friends with a freaking vamp." Sam answered, coldly. "Yeah, Benny wasn't like the others, and I get the whole 'brother's in arms' aspect, but it still doesn't make sense." He waved his hand, gesturing back at the book before letting it drop. "That Dean? That Dean would have never put his trust in a monster. That Dean wouldn't let people back into his life that had screwed him over, and now…I don't know, now it's like he just doesn't care about letting people in that who could hurt him, or…people who already have."

"So, it's not just about the vampire." Charlie said. "Who else has Dean been trusting that you don't think he should?"

Sam gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Cas really messed him up Charlie. I mean, the guy already turned his back on us once and Dean just let him back into our lives like nothing even happened."

"Ah." Charlie said, with complete understanding. "Okay, I get it now."

"Get what?" Sam asked.

"I get why Dean has been acting wierd, duh." She said, like it was obvious. Sam sat, staring at her, trying to peice together what puzzle she seemed to have completed. "Oh, my God. Do you really not see it?" Charlie laughed.

"Um, no?" Sam said, skeptically.

"Wow," she scoffed. "And here I thought you were the observant one." Sam waited for her to explain herself, still utterly lost on what she was talking about. "It's Castiel." She said, speaking to him as if he were a child.

"What about him?" Sam asked, hoping like hell that she wasn't talking about the angel brainwashing his brother or something.

"I've read the books, Sam." She said. "I know all about Dean's special Angel friend."

"No." Sam shook his head. "No, chuck stopped writing after Dean went to hell. There's no way you could have a read anything about Cas."

Charlie scrunched her face and bobbed her head back and forth. "Mmmm, not exactly." She reached into her bag and pulled put her laptop, turning it on. "Remember how I said the books were online now?" Sam nodded waiting for her to continue. "Okay, dont get mad," she said as she typed "but, he may have kept writing a little bit longer than you thought…."

"He what?!" Sam said, furious. They had told that dick to knock it off after that stupid convention."How long?"

"Relax." She said, scrolling through some page on her screen. "He stopped after you sacrifice yourself to Hell, actually. It was beautifully written by the way, super emotional, but no one has seen or heard from him since."

'Good!' Sam thought to himself. He felt a little bad for that thought, since Kevin was now the prophet it meant that the reason no one had heard from Chuck was likely because he was dead, but at least no one else could know more about their lives than they already did. "Okay, but what does any of this have to do with Dean? Why would Cas be the reason he's acting wierd?"

Charlie sighed, cringing to her self a little. "Well, as you already know, where there's a fandom, there's most likely fanfiction…"

"I'm aware." Sam said, peeved by the memory of stumbling upon the fanfiction written about him and Dean.

"Look, I'm not saying anything is definite, but alot of people who write fanfiction are really good at reading between the lines." She clicked her mouse a few times before closing her laptop and setting it back in her bag. "I mean, I've read all the books myself, and I totally know that you guys are real people and not some fictional characters, and it's completely not okay to speculate on your lives and feelings or whatever...but I mean, it's kinda hard not to see where they're all coming from."

"What are you talking about, Charlie?"

"Dean said that Benny helped him fight through purgatory, right?" She said. "He met him pretty early on in his time there, no?"

"Yeah," Sam said, still completely bemused, "I guess…Dean hasn't really talked a lot about what happened while he was there. He told me some things, but he never really went into detail."

Charlie nodded and shrugged sheepishly before continuing. "Okay, so he met Benny early on, and Benny told him he had a way to get back, right off the bat. So, why did it take them so long to get out of there?"

"Dean said he spent alot of his time searching for Cas." Sam answered.

"Exactly!" She exclaimed, like that should have been the answer.

"I'm sorry Charlie, I still don't understand what you're getting at here."

"Sam, he could've come back at any point after meeting Benny. They only spent as much time as they did together, because Dean wanted to bring Castiel back with him. Even after everything he did. Don't you think that's a little…suspicious?"

"That's exactly what I've been saying!" Sam said. "Why would he do that?!"

"Yeah, Sam, why?" She said, still trying to lead him. "Why would someone run back into a fire, when they have a way out? I mean, I think you, of all people, would know the answer to that."

Sam gaped at her in shock. It took a minute for him to register what she was implying, but once he did… "Charlie, that's…"

"Just a thought!" She defended before he finished. "I'm just saying that Dean doesn't normally put his trust in people. Except, maybe…the people he REALLY cares about and the people that protect them. Maybe there's more to the story when it comes to his trust in Benny than you thought. I definitely feel like there's more when it comes to Castiel."

"Charlie, come on." Sam laughed a little. " You know Dean. He's…"

"More complicated than people give him credit for." Charlie cut him off. "He also knows how hard it is to let go of the people he loves. He's actually really bad at it. Maybe, worse than you know."

"Charlie," Sam started, before being cut off once more.

"He's definitely more concerned about you than you think." Charlie said firmly, standing up as she did. She began packing once more, keeping her eyes averted from Sam's. "He's not trying to control you, you know. He raised you, Sam. You mean alot to him. You ever think for a moment that he's just really scared for you? Scared of losing you? I mean, back to my point, he is really bad at losing people."

Sam sat in silence, petulantly mulling over Charlie's words. She was right, probably. Dean may have been scared, but it was still possible that he just couldn't hack the life anymore. Sam wasn't some child. And the other stuff she was saying…she was way off base. There was a big difference between reading about someone's and living it.

"I sent you the link to the website I used to read the books." Charlie said as she zipped up her bags. She slung her backpack over her shoulder crossing her arms as she stared him down. "I know you lived through it all and everything, but not every part was about you. There's a few things you may have missed."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen." Sam shook his head.

"Just a suggestion." She shrugged. "It might open your eyes to a few things you don't understand. I get not wanting to relive those times but…if you ever decide that's something you might wanna do, hit me up. I can tell you what chapters to skip, or whatever. And, if your really curious about Dean's relationship to Castiel, 'On the Head of a Pin' is a good place to start. The torture chapters are pretty rough, and I know you'll want to skip over your parts…but the other stuff.…" she shrugged.

"Okay." He said, at a loss for more words than that.

"You ready to roll?" Dean said, from the doorway, knocking on the door frame before entering the room.

"Looks, like it." Charlie smiled up at him as he entered.

"I didn't interrupt anything did I?" Dean asked looking between her and Sam with concern written all over his face. "You guys look a little spooked."

"Ew, gross, no." Charlie said, scrunching her face at Dean's implications. "Sam, was just helping me with my bags. Right Sam?"

"Uh, yeah…" Sam said, standing up and grabbing her duffle off the bed.

"Eh, come on, you know I'm just teasin ya!" Dean chuckled, jabbing her on the shoulder playfully. "He may have the hair, but the body parts are all wrong, right?"

"Definitely." Charlie agreed.

"Come on." Dean said, tilting his head toward the door. He waited for Charlie to leave the room, then cast a skeptical glance at Sam before following after. Sam was sure he was in for an earful after she left. He began dreading it as he said his goodbyes, anticipating the lecture as he told Charlie she was welcome to comeback at anytime. But it wasn't the only thing on his mind now. After bidding Charlie farewell, he went inside, giving the two of them their time alone. He hesitated for a moment, convinced that the trials were seriously messing with his head if he was even considering this. Then again…

He headed to the library, grabbing a peice of paper and a pen on his way and sat down. 'This is just stupid.' He thought to himself as he wrote down the words 'On the Head of a Pin'. He heard the bunker door open. Dean walked up, the look on his face telling Sam that it was time for his ass- chewing, so he decided to cut it off before it could start.

He clicked the pen closed and stood up, ready to defend his actions. "Okay, look you were right. I-I should laid low. I-I know." He said as Dean approached him."I should have hung back. I'm glad I was able.."

Then Dean grabbed him. Then Dean pulled him into a hug. It wasn't at all what he was expecting. He was lost, but relieved and hugged his brother back.

Dean chuckled and patted his back before pulling away. "What do you say we find our prophet?." Dean smiled, before smaking him in the chest and walking away.

Sam was left to himself, completely bewildered by what had just occurred. Dean had certainly not been acting like himself, but this was a whole new level. Maybe there was some truth to Charlie's words? Maybe he really was just scared? Maybe Sam really didn't know everything about his brother. Now, wasn't the time to think about that, though. Dean was right, the had to look for Kevin. They had work to do. Research.

But Dean had to sleep at some point. Maybe Sam could do a little light reading in that time.

If Charlie was right about Dean being scared for him, who knew what else she was right about?

#destiel #fanfic #destiel crack #crack post #this is not at all what happened #unless

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 20

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 20: A week after the funeral, Kate still doesn’t know how any of them will recover.

Ada looked alarmed when Polly and Michael walked into the foyer without Kate. Dressed in black, they looked as if they were in mourning but moved like they were prepared for business. The medium that was necessary.

“Where is Kate?”

Polly already looked stressed enough, her niece’s question didn’t help any. “She didn’t come.”

Ada’s eyes widened. “Pol, Tommy gave me a list and said that she needed to be here. She’s supposed to meet with him after you two meet with him. That’s why I asked you-”

Polly held up a hand. “She wouldn’t let me in the flat for ten minutes. Then she let me in and said she wasn’t going. I said what Tommy said but she just ran off and got sick in the bathroom.”

“But-”

“Would you rather I had Michael pick her up and throw her in the car?”

Ada sighed and threw up her hand. “Okay, but you can tell Tommy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

After discussing legitimate business with Michael and Polly, Tommy dismissed them. Michael stood up to leave instantly, a good soldier. But Polly lingered. “Tommy.”

“That’s all.” He said again, the tension rising in his voice. “Go get Kate.”

“That’s the thing, Tommy, she didn’t come.”

He looked up from the mess of paperwork scattered across his desk. “Excuse me?”

“I couldn’t get her to come.” There wasn’t much else to add to it because there wasn’t anything Polly could say to make the ordeal better.

“I told Ada she needed to be here, so why isn’t she sat in front of me right now?” He pointed at the chair Michael had left.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, she said she couldn’t.”

“She couldn’t.” Tommy scoffed and leaned back in his leather desk chair. “That’s funny.”

“You need to realize-”

He interrupted her before she could lecture him about respecting other people’s feelings. “Go into the hall, pick up the phone and call her. Tell her if she’s not here by tonight, she’s in big trouble.”

Even if Polly was appalled by her nephew’s behavior, there wasn’t much she could say. A person in mourning wasn’t the most sensible. “Alright.” She stood up and headed out of the room to put in a call to Kate.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A driver was sent to Birmingham to pick up Kate. She arrived just after dinner. The headlights crossed over the study, alerting Tommy. It was the first time that he’d stayed in the house past dusk since Grace’s funeral. It made him itch because all he could think about was the bedroom they once shared. The bed that remained empty. Tommy wouldn’t ever sleep it in again.

He and Kate hadn’t interacted since the funeral. And even then, they hadn’t spoken. Tommy hadn’t spoken to anyone.

He didn’t watch as she stepped out of the car and walked inside. He kept his eyes steady on the bookcase across the room from him. Simply downing glass after glass of whiskey. There was no sense as to why he just didn’t drink straight from the bottle instead of pouring the correct amount into the same crystal tumbler. Maybe it was just a habit. Or maybe it removed himself from the reality that he was draining the full bottle. Instead, he was just downing a couple of inches at a time. That’s all he’d been doing. Seeing if he could survive another second. Then another and another. Suddenly, the day was gone and the bottle was empty.

“Come in,” Tommy spoke up when he heard a knock at the door.

Kate stepped inside, pulling off her gloves and hat. However, she left on her coat as she realized upon spending a few moments in the room that it was freezing. “You aren’t keeping a fire on in here? It’s drafty.” She looked up around the large room fit for his study. There was a portrait of one of his horses on the wall but other than that, there weren’t many personal items. She knew that he was a man who kept his passions close to the heart and wouldn’t outwardly display them if they weren’t in his best interest. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Why didn’t you come this afternoon when I asked you to?” He didn’t respond to her initial, innocent question. His hand was wrapped tightly around his whiskey glass. His eyes looking not really looking at her but through her. As if she weren’t really standing there. His lips were pursed as he waited for her response.

Kate hit her gloves against her thigh a few times before walking over to the desk to sit. “I don’t know, Tommy.” She admitted. “It’s too soon and I don’t even know what to think.”

“Too soon for what?” There was no give in his voice. No gentleness that he had shown her before.

“Just for-for all of this. For business and communicating and just-” Kate lost her nerve. The entire drive there, she couldn’t come up with one thing to say to Tommy. She had already given him her condolences. He didn’t want sympathy from anyone. She couldn’t offer any explanation because there wasn’t any he wanted to hear. She couldn’t explain the guilt and grief she felt because it felt minuscule to what he was feeling. It was comparing a drop to an ocean. “It’s too soon for you, Tommy.”

He let go of his grip on the glass and busied himself with lighting a cigarette. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m ready for.”

“I’m not. I’m just going off what your family has been telling me.” She folded her hands on her lap, not ready for a fight. That would just be like two wounded fighters dragging their swords into another fight for no good reason.

Tommy focused on his smoke for a bit before he addressed her again. “When I ask you to come to something, you come.”

Kate bit her tongue but still couldn’t keep herself from giving a prickly reply. “If you had things to tell me that was urgent, you could’ve called me.”

“That’s not the fucking point.” He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray.

“Tommy, everything I’ve done for you never matters. What matters is when I can’t do something. Before you pull shit like this, remember that I’ve stretched myself thin to accommodate you and to improve your business dealings. That’s what you brought me in here for, that’s what I’m doing. I’m not a puppet that you can call in any second of any day. Don’t you realize that everyone is suffering to at least some degree?”

Before she could continue, Tommy slammed his open palm on the desk. The loud noise made Kate jump in her seat and go quiet.

Exhausted, running on nothing more than whiskey and cigarettes, Tommy had reached his breaking point. His mind was nothing more than a blurred mess of jumbled thoughts and unbearable emotions. Feelings he was trying his damndest to subdue with alcohol. “Italians killed my wife. John and Arthur are going tomorrow to find their kin and bring him back to me. I won’t kill him right away; I’ll ask him a few questions. And if your fucking name comes up at all-”

Her eyes widened in absolute disbelief. “Are you implying that I had something to do with this!?” Her voice raised in pitch and she stood up.

“This whole time you’ve gone on about Italians being after you. You knew who the Changrettas were.” Tommy pointed a finger at her.

“How dare you?” She gasped in utter shock. Removed from the situation, she might’ve realized that he was just grasping at straws, trying to make sense of the murder of his wife. “You know exactly why this happened and you’re putting it on me? Your brother cut Angel, I told you what sort of hell they would unleash on you but you wouldn’t fucking listen to me!”

“You called her a liar, you wanted her gone!” Tommy rose from his chair to meet her challenge.

“I never wanted her gone! I showed up at that dinner because she asked me to. I showed up to support her and you. I may be a lot of things, Tommy, but I am not vindictive. I know when to walk away, unlike you!”

“Then how did you know about the Changrettas?” He demanded.

“I told you how I knew them. And I know what kind of people they are. I told you what they would do. And I’ll tell you this now. I would never ever work with them or help them in any way. They would sooner sell me out to Santo. So, don’t you ever question my loyalty again!”

Tommy appeared to be out of avenues of accusation. Even in irrational of a state he was drowning in, he had enough sense to hear her defense. The whole time, Tommy wanted desperately to clear his conscious of Grace’s death. He didn’t want to wake up in that pasture every morning knowing that his actions put that bullet in her heart.

He ran a hand over his mouth and returned to his chair. “It was the fucking sapphire then.” He muttered.

“What?”

He shook his head. “The woman I was speaking to before it happened.”

“The duchess,” Kate confirmed.

“She said the sapphire Grace was wearing had been cursed by a gypsy.” He explained.

Her brow furrowed. “And you believe that?”

Weary, Tommy just pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the pain throbbing in his head.

Kate allowed herself to lower her defenses once she saw that he wasn’t willing to blame her anymore. He was just a grief-stricken man searching for explanations. “I don’t know anything about curses. But does it really matter? You know who did it. They’re going to pay.”

He dropped his hand from his face and look up at the ceiling for a moment. “I need sleep.” He mumbled.

It was clear enough to her. He hadn’t been sleeping because of the guilt. She knew for certain because she wasn’t sleeping either. Not in the cause of the murder. There was no question that she had nothing to do with it. But the whole time Grace and Tommy were married, Kate envied her. She wanted to be in her former agent’s shoes. To be the woman on Tommy’s arm. She prayed that one day Tommy would see that Grace was deceiving him, as she’d done before. Then maybe he would leave her and open himself up for Kate. But she never imagined the murder would happen. That’s not the way she wanted to find her spot beside Tommy. She wouldn’t take advantage of a woman’s death. And yet, she still felt guilt for the feelings she harbored for Tommy. During their marriage and after.

“Then look for absolution,” Kate replied. “However, you see fit.”

Tommy looked at her for a second, the first time he was really seeing her. “If I kill Vincente, Santo Leoni loses another ally.” He said out of the blue.

“You need to be careful. Luca’s still active. If you kill his father, he will come for you.” Kate warned.

“If he’s a man of honor, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.” Tommy picked his cigarette out of the ashtray to finish it.

“You don’t need to worry about me, I can handle myself.” She didn’t want Vincente’s death linked to her in any way. Not even by a thought.

Tommy nodded and opened one of the top drawers of his desk. “I need you to do a couple of things.” He handed her a piece of paper that was folded three times.

“Okay.” She tucked it into her purse. “I’ll look over it when I get home.”

“You can stay the night.” He offered.

The suggestion hit her like a shock down the spine. “No, thank you but I would rather just drive back home.”

“It’s a long drive.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted me to come at the last moment so I suppose I’ll just be getting back late.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Kate, just stay over for one night, it’s okay. You’re not intruding.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She replied.

The two looked at one another for a short bit. Tommy opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him.

“I’m not someone who fills the space, Tommy. I stand on my own for a good reason. I don’t fit in other people’s lives. You can’t keep me around because you’re lonely.”

Tommy pressed his knuckles into the edge of his desk. The dull aching pressure was enough to remind him he was still there. “Grace wasn’t pregnant.” He told her.

“I know. Polly told me.” She wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a reaction out of her. And if he was, she didn’t know what kind of reaction he was looking for. Shock, joy, anger, relief?

“I knew before everything. Before the dinner. She told me the truth.” He rubbed the side of his face, stifling a yawn. “I couldn’t walk away from her. We decided to say she had a miscarriage. Then we’d have children along the line, hopefully.” He took a deep breath. “I thought I had it, Kate.”

There was no way she was going to lecture him or tell him she told him so. She wasn’t there to rub salt in the wounds. She simply saw him as a man who loved a woman at one point. So much so that when she came back into his life, he thought he could realize something that seemed so hard to grasp. A perfect life with a doting wife and children. Maybe he thought it was his only chance. So, he grabbed it and tidied things up along the way as they were needed. In a way, Kate could respect his commitment. “I’m sorry, I wish things worked out for you, I really do. No matter what I thought, or think, I want you to be happy, Tommy.”

“That’s why I never stopped loving you. Even when she came back. I still loved you. I still do, Kate.”

It was a strange concoction of feelings that sunk through her skin. A sense of validation mixed with absolute dread. She had waited so long to hear him reciprocate the feelings she had for him. But never in those circumstances. Her stomach churned. She wanted to admit that she’d never stopped loving him either. She wanted to be happy with him. But it was impossible after what happened the week before. It made her sick to her stomach to think that she wanted to be with him. The guilt was like poison. Making her nauseous and faint.

She stumbled to stand, leaving her hat and gloves behind but managing to grab her purse. “I can’t do this.” She whispered and made an exit for the door.

“Kate. Kate!” He called after her but she was gone before he could stop her. He paused at the doorway, listening to the heavy front doors close. The headlights dashed across the study again, the crunch of gravel under tires signaling her departure.

~~~~~~~~~`

After she was dropped off back home. Kate was desperate to just go to bed. She couldn’t handle everything, she just wanted to sleep so she didn’t have to cope. Tears in her eyes, she unlocked the door.

“Micina, it’s been long enough.”

When she heard his voice, every muscle in her body locked up with fear.

“Turn around, Kathleen, aren’t you excited to see me?”

It felt like her heart wasn’t working properly. But she had to turn around to make sure it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

Santo grinned from his spot on the sidewalk a few feet from her front steps. “After all this time and I still make you speechless.” He chuckled and took a few steps toward her. “Now, let's have a little talk.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen

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Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillian murphy character #fanfiction #ofc #oc #ada thorne #ada shelby #polly gray #michael gray #ocs #season 3

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imaginesixguys · 4 years

Note

Matsuno has been kissed on his cheek, by his crush. Reaction?

A cute, simple one to start off with! Thanks anon!

Osomatsu

If Osomatsu got kissed on the cheek by his crush he’d be over the moon basically. I mean we’ve seen how he reacts in canon even getting a super short hug from someone he likes and it was essentially the equivalent of flustered keysmashing. He’d get a really deep blush, his eyes would turn into hearts or spirals and he’d start stammering and grinning like an idiot, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, all that stuff. Honestly I think he’d be pretty sweet about it. The boy is all talk so when it comes to someone actually showing him physical affection, he’d be super flustered. I don’t think he’d fluster quite as bad as Choromatsu or Ichimatsu though, but he’d definitely get butterflies. He’d probably be tempted to hug them but decide against it if he’s still in the crush stages. I honestly believe that when Oso genuinely cares about someone, he does take measures to try not to be too forward aside from like “haha what if we put our minecraft beds together lol” jokes.

I think once he managed to calm down from the kiss, he’d try and play it off casually or make a joke about the situation to try and make his crush less obvious. He’d definitely be thinking about that cheek kiss the rest of the month though.

Karamatsu

Karamatsu can be difficult to get a read on sometimes but I think if he were kissed on the cheek by a crush he’d be very, very internally flustered but remain rather “unchanged” on the surface. However, unlike Jyushimatsu and Todomatsu who would be good at not drawing too much attention to it, Kara’s a different story. There’d be an obvious blush and some sweating, as is the case with all of them, but he would immediately use the opportunity to draw a ton of attention to the fact you just kissed his cheek, even with a crush. He’d be absolutely ELATED that someone took time to show him physical affection and make a huge deal about it. He’d give a “Heh”, push his sunglasses up and then immediately say something like, “It seems as though my Karamatsu [blank] is quite affectionate today!~ How lucky for me... Heh...”

While I do think Karamatsu is actually pretty easy to fluster, I also think he’s just gotten so good at masking how he actually feels that he’d be able to hold a pretty good poker face, even around a crush. Like he would obviously be flustered and would probably later sigh to himself and clutch his chest and romantically yearn and pine and be all cute and lovey dovey once he was alone, but in public or around someone he’s really trying to impress, he’s going to keep his Dreamworks or “Bishie” face on... Or at the very least try his damndest to. If you noticed, he doesn’t change his expression very often when he’s trying to come across as “cool” or “likeable”, again, unless it’s to give himself shiny bishie eyes.

Choromatsu

Choromatsu is very easily flustered, if he got a kiss on the cheek from a crush he’d be a complete wreck. He’d be blushing, heart eyes, sweaty, the works, totally frozen, totally shocked. I mean he’d react pretty much the same to how he reacts to cute people in the show, minus the fanboying. I guess how he acted with Iyako is a good basis really. He’d probably gasp and like freeze up, have no idea what to say but look completely flustered and shocked, deep blush, super wide eyes. It’s probably not something he was expecting at all, even if you are his crush. If you tried to question him about his behavior, all he’d be able to do is stammer and stutter... You’d probably have to wait a couple of minutes before he’d be able to form actual sentences.

If he was talking a lot earlier, he’d probably be much quieter afterwards too once he calmed down, getting caught up in his own thoughts about you. If you tried to question him about it once he had calmed down he’d probably still stutter but at least be able to explain that he isn’t used to physical signs of affection. He’d probably be very apologetic.

Ichimatsu

Oh poor Ichimatsu... Like Choro he would also be a wreck, except even worse. Out of all of the Matsus, I feel like Ichimatsu definitely flusters not only the most easily but the most violently as well (and no I don’t mean him being violent, I mean like... He’d foam at the mouth or pass out or catch fire... Something like that). Aside from the blushing, there’d probably end up being some gag where he just... Dies. He’s so overwhelmed, he just dies. It’s okay though because he’d be alive again almost immediately after. If he got kissed on the cheek by his crush, he’d be absolutely shocked and in complete disbelief... In fact it might take him a bit to register that it happened at all and assume it was just some super lifelike daydream. If it did register though, he’d be a complete mess the rest of the day, and extra scatterbrained for the rest of the week. Since he’s someone that thinks so little of himself on top of being touch-starved and inexperienced with anything dating-related, he’d probably still have some trouble believing it happened even if it obviously did. He wouldn’t bring it up again or acknowledge it unless you started kissing him on the cheek consistently.

He’d definitely react to it the most overtly, but at the same time he’d also be the most likely to be in denial that it actually happened. Ichi is someone who takes a lot of convincing in the early stages.

Jyushimatsu

Jyushimatsu is an interesting case. He’s one of the few Matsus where we sort of have an idea how he acts in a romantic relationship, but of course there’s still inquiries to be made. If he got a kiss on the cheek from a crush, I think he’d react comically, like think blowing steam out of his ears or getting those cat eyes he does. Still, even with the comical response, I don’t think he’d actually fluster quite that badly. He’d do a “WOOO FLUSTERED” sight gag to make you laugh, but Jyushimatsu seems surprisingly calm and well-adjusted when it comes to interacting with potential love interests. Yes, there’s the “HARDTY” joke and his penchant for yelling inappropriate things carelessly, but for the most part (especially with someone he’s interested in), he’d be pretty civil.

Aside from the comical reaction, I don’t think he’d mention it or acknowledge it afterwards for fear of seeming like a “creep” or something. He’s surprisingly respectful with potential love interests, though if he's known said crush since childhood he’d be more apt to make dirty jokes or say stupid things since his guard would be a little more down.

Todomatsu

Todomatsu, per usual, would react to it the most “normally” at first glance. He’d play it off very casually and maybe even turn it into an attempt to flirt back, kissing your cheek and saying something like, “Now we’re even!~” He’d try to be cute about it of course and on the surface he would seem very calm and collected about the situation, but internally...

Internally he is still a Matsu, and thus at some point would politely excuse himself to use the bathroom only to go in there and lose his absolute mind. It’d be very similar to the scene in the Sutaba job ep where he goes into the employee background and does his whole “BINGO!” shtick. As much as he likes to act calm and collected for the sake of not coming across as socially inept, he still can’t help but get excited by the rare chance at physical affection. He’s just as strange and hilarious as the rest of his brothers but is admittedly a lot better at seeming collected on the surface.

#osomatsu san #osomatsu-san #allmatsu #imagines #headcanons #anon #Anonymous #asks

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smartguyreviewed · 4 years

Text

1x7 - A Little Knowledge

Original air date: May 7, 1997

Hello there, friends. How are we holding up during these “unprecedented times?” I am currently holding up by pretty much being high 18/7, not sleeping and obsessing over a show that pretty much nobody talks about because I am that bored.

Really, I do want to thank anyone who takes the time to read this blog and/or drop a like. I started this blog because I enjoyed reading reviews of Lizzie McGuire and Boy Meets World. And then I thought of how not that many black sitcoms are pretty much ever really discussed. I watched Smart Guy so much when I was a kid but didn’t realize how important it was to even be watching it because we had so many other black television shows during my childhood, the complete opposite of how it is now. I always thought about even making a YouTube channel reviewing that black ass nostalgia that I love so much, but since I’m in the ugly phase of growing my starter locs, I figured I’d blog for now.

Alright! There’s my intro. I really did mean it, but I had no idea how else to segue into the opening for this episode. By the way, if anyone is a super meticulous asshole and thinks the numbering of the episodes is off, I was honestly confused because Disney omitted a whole ass episode of the show, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the numbering of the episodes is different here but nowhere else on the web. The first season is already less than 10 episodes, so whatever.

Okay, so we open to Floyd about to do his books but he needs the little precocious calculator to help him out. This triggers me because I still have not done my taxes even though the deadline was extended. Luckily, it doesn’t appear that the Hendersons have any timely bills due but they are broke. After TJ adds up all the numbers, Floyd sees he is definitely not in the black.

Because the episode is about money, naturally, both of Floyd’s grown children need pricey things all of a sudden. Yvette comes down and asks for a coat to replace this...thing that she’s wearing because it’s clearly ill-fitting. Floyd says he can buy her a new coat, as long as she’s not particular as to which winter she gets it in.

Up next is our Marcus, asking for something totally egregious. At least Yvette was asking for weather appropriate clothing. Marcus is asking Floyd for a $1500 bike. And now I’m confused. Why the hell would Marcus of all people need a bike? If he’s really trying his damndest to get the girls, I thought the band alone served that purpose. Regardless, Marcus needs it and he’s a teenager so the world is going to end tomorrow if he doesn’t get this deathcycle of his. He even tries to manipulate his dad by showing him a photo of Floyd on his bike. I actually think it’s cute how Floyd lights up at the sight of younger him. Maybe he met his deceased wife during these years?

Floyd breaks out of memory lane and reminds Marcus that he, a human parent, wants the finer things also, including the chance to see his old friends at his high school reunion but that doesn’t seem to have a snowball’s chance in hell of happening. Yeah, because Floyd has to put food on the table for a woman and three guys (yes, I’m including Mo and guys eat a lot and I don’t wanna hear shit about how girls eat a lot too because guys just eat more and that’s a fact) and school all of his children. No room for the finer things.

He then says that Yvette and Marcus can buy what they want but simply have to get jobs. Marcus balks at the idea and says he wouldn’t want work to interrupt his studies. Yvette and TJ have a nice little kii over this since hahaha “Marcus is dumb,” hahaha.

We cut to TJ in his room attempting to strategize ways for the Henderson clan to save money while watching a bootleg version of Jeopardy!. Marcus comes in on the phone with Craig, the guy selling the bike, and convinces him to not sell it, even though Marcus only has 4.2% of the funds. Yvette barges in and is pissed at her annoying little brothers for not unlocking her door when they’re done with the bathroom. See, they share a bathroom in this episode. In another episode, Yvette gets her own bathroom built...somewhere because she’s tired of sharing with them. This bathroom is never mentioned again. In another episode, Marcus temporarily moves to the attic. I just wonder exactly how the Henderson house is built because it seems like there’s so much space yet so little space?

The boys aren’t listening to Yvette however, because she stank. She credits this funk to the job she just got at the Cluck Bucket, “yanking the gushy stuff out of chickens,” as Marcus eloquently puts it. She brags, saying she makes $100 a week, which is obviously $1000 a week in 90s money.

After TJ proposes that Yvette cut Marcus’s hair, Marcus realizes TJ is attempting to optimize their family’s finances. TJ really is doing a lot for a 10 year old here. Normally, he’s being extremely rude to them, but in this episode, he’s trying to use his intelligence to fix a problem that he has no business worrying about. Clearly, this intelligence is a gift and a curse. I’m about to be 29 and I worry all the time about things I can’t even control along with the things I can. Imagine being 10, gifted AF and stressing only about adult things you can’t control.

Marcus actually delivers good advice this episode, most likely unbeknownst to him. He commands TJ to turn off his brain and stop worrying because this is something he can’t fix. And Marcus is right. A 10 year old has zero reasons to be trying to balance the family checkbook. It would have been better if he threw a Gameboy at him and told him that’s his homework instead.

But this is TJ and he is the determinator AKA hard-headed. Bootleg Jeopardy! is about to end but the host announces a junior version of the show. TJ checks all the boxes. Youngster? Check. Living in the D.C. area? Check. In desperate need of $25k? Double check!

TJ and Marcus are back home and go over how they’re going to break the news to Floyd since obviously he wouldn’t have given TJ permission to audition if they asked. Floyd seems pissed at first when they tell him but Marcus makes sure to place emphasis on how TJ kicked ass. Floyd is proud now, even though a few moments ago, he was about to go full Papa Bear.

The next day, Piedmont is buzzing about TJ’s television debut but he’s confused because he only told his fam. We then cut to Marcus blabbing to some girl about how he can get her a seat next to him so she can give him a handjob on the sly. (Of course, we don’t even see said girl at the show.) TJ tells Marcus he didn’t want everyone to know because, understandably, now there’s more pressure on him. Marcus responds to this by putting even more pressure on him, telling Craig that TJ is going to win him the bike. Then he puts a damn anvil on it by telling Craig to raise the price to $1700 and he’ll just take the bike now. This will end well.

TJ, under immense pressure because the show is filming in 6 hours at this point (film/TV people, if you’re reading, feel free to say if this is even normal for it to move this quickly especially for an underage guest?), is up late at night studying his ass off and high off legal coke. He’s awoken Marcus who is wondering why on earth TJ would be up this early studying for a quiz television show that has a large monetary prize and they’re broke. He wants TJ to get some sleep by he’s in the zone because he had 20 cups of coffee. After a drug fueled rant, he just passes out.

6 hours later and TJ is still high. Floyd chalks it up to nerves before TJ starts sprinting around the set. Marcus shows up, announcing he just chained up his new bike to a dumpster. This will end well. He checks in on TJ who is still coked up and not coming down anytime soon. His dad calls him over to meet the other contestants which include Dylan Roof and Yung Sharpay.

After the kids are ushered onto set, Floyd goes to the other hoity toity parents, bragging about their kids’ accomplishments. He dismisses them and says TJ actually has a life. Floyd, you dick! Afterwards, the show begins. The host is opening and says he believes that children are our future. Floyd and Marcus are backstage and in true black parent fashion, once TJ is announced, they lose their shit!

The game is now underway and Yung Sharpay and TJ are caught up. Dylan Roof is pretty much just there because he’s so far behind that it doesn’t even matter. Amy loudly tells TJ that he has a broken leg and they’re loading the shotgun because she just caught up to him. Of course, nobody heard this even though she was loud as hell. Also, racial implications much?

Yvette comes late in her work uniform and is hurriedly trying to tell Marcus a bit of info he’ll want to act fast on, but naturally, he shushes her to listen to the game that TJ is about to possibly lose. Yvette is also a petty asshole, so she doesn’t even try to tell him again. They cut to break and Yvette announces then that Marcus’s bike is gone. Turns out, locking it to a dumpster isn’t the best idea because some guy in a garbage truck stole it dragged the dumpster away. Marcus is pissed and lets slip that he paid $1700 for it which gets him in trouble because he just told Floyd that he was taking it on a test drive. Then the rest of the truth spews out. Marcus says he wanted something from the money TJ was going to win and oh mama is Floyd pissed because he naturally expects the worst from Marcus always and thinks he forced TJ to be in the competition which wasn’t even the case. Floyd tells Marcus he’s going to talk to TJ and warns him to “brace himself” for when he gets back. Yvette gleefully says she’s going to get chalk for his body outline. What did Marcus do to everyone to make them hate him so much? TJ does way shittier things than him and he’s still held in high regard. Hmm.

Floyd comes over to TJ to check in and lets him know that he’s aware of what’s going on. TJ, who has only consumed coffee and chocolate for the past few hours, is now dizzy. Floyd has to remind TJ that he has plenty of time to worry about rent and bills and student loans and credit card debt and finding a therapist and the pressure to have it “together” by the time you’re 30 which is crazy unrealistic. Good lesson and one of the few times I don’t wanna strangle TJ. Understandably, with the pressure off, TJ wants to dipset. The host, while seeing TJ and Floyd leaving, says they signed a contract so somebody needs to fill in for TJ. Cut to one of the funniest scenes in the show, hands down.

The question is how much did Thomas Jefferson, another TJ, pay for the Louisiana Purchase? This is word for word what Marcus-as-TJ says.

“Well uh, let’s see. In DC, the most you can take out of the ATM is $300 and you would wanna hold back a $20 in case something comes up, so I’m gonna say $280, Hugh.”

Yvette’s reaction says it all.

In the end, we see Yvette at the Cluck Bucket, putting on her functional gray pea coat that she probably got from Contempo Casuals or something. Marcus is the janitor now because he has to work off his debt to Craig and because remember, Marcus is a dark-skinned buffoon and couldn’t get the same job as Yvette for some reason. Whatever. I wonder what Yung Sharpay did with her prize money.

Stuff I Noticed:

- Yvette’s jacket. What is this?

- Marcus’s face for Lil’ Dylan and Yung Sharpay versus TJ. I love black families.

White lady on the left does not approve.

- No Mo this episode! :(

#ashley tisdale #smart guy #disney #tahj mowry #tj henderson #90s #nineties #marcus henderson #floyd henderson #john marshall jones #jason weaver #high school musical #yvette henderson #essence atkins

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vantaestummy · 5 years

Note

Could we get your take on Taehyung and Yoongi both getting carsick on a road trip?

A/N: ofc baby! here we go. sorry it took so long! also major thanks to @d3t3rm1n4t10n91 for being so amazing and helping me greatly with this one!!!❤︎

TW: emeto & carsickness

———————————————

Screw. Road. Trips.

There's little one can do while being inside a car in motion. Yoongi decides none of those things are a great idea right now, though. Reading a book will possibly trigger the nausea that has been sitting mildly inside of him, like a dangerous dragon in its sleeping state. Scrolling through his phone? Not a good idea either. Looking out the window at the road that passes under them almost too quickly? No, definitely not.

The only Min in the group desires nothing more than to crawl into the cool sheets of his bed and take a big nap. He longs for the comfortable quietness that his room never fails to provide. For once he doesn't want to be in a van with eight people. Not that he doesn't enjoy his bandmates' presence, no. He's almost always glad to listen to Jimin and Taehyung singing in the backseat, Jin and Jungkook bickering and playing around, Hoseok's music blasting through his earphones and Namjoon tapping beats with his fingers on his thighs. He's almost always glad to be there with them, when the seven of them are together, when the seven of them are healthy.

Keywords: almost always.

The road up ahead looks like it stretches for forever, the sun dipping beneath it as the oranges and yellows and purples bleed into one another. The boys have been on the road for hours, dramamine having sat heavy in both Taehyung and Yoongi’s systems.

However, it’s been hours now since they left and the medicine has long worn off. They are only an hour or so away from their destination, the beach house in which they will be spending the next few days together, filming RUN BTS as well as a dispatch photo shoot.

Taehyung seems to be fairing a little better than his older band mate. There is a slight bout of queasiness that has woven its way through his system, however it is quite faint and nothing more than a bit annoying. Still, as Taehyung tries to get some shut eye, the whirring of the vehicle as well as the random bumps are far too unsettling.

Taehyung places a hand on his stomach, palming the skin there and taking a look out of the window, the world blurring past and doing nothing to ease the ache of his nausea. He thinks he’ll be okay since, they have less than an hour to go, however, the singer isn’t the only one that the jagged motions of the car are getting to.

“Hyung? Hey, you okay?” Taehyung whispers to Yoongi who, is leaning his head against the fogged up glass of the window, his breathing labored and a bit forced. Hoseok, as well as Jimin and Jeongguk, are asleep. Seokjin is driving and Namjoon is reading a book in the passenger seat. How he can read while the car is in motion, Taehyung has no clue.

The smallest –in size– hyung has unquestionably no energy for trying to hide the nausea that's slowly growing back to life in his stomach, each bump in the road a piece of firewood adding to the burning ache inside of him. He ridiculously thought he had the beast tamed. Well, joke's on him.

“Not at all” he manages to admit to the second youngest singer. He's not very fond of the idea of unnecessarily making Taehyung worry, but there is no way he can possibly lie about how he is currently feeling. Yoongi finds himself helplessly rubbing his belly as if that would lull the dragon named nausea back to sleep, where it can't be a bother. The movement is not welcomed positively, though. He muffles a small burp and a whine in the back of a black hoodie he decided to wear. Thank heaven it's not white, considering how sure he is that he's close to making a mess.

Admitting to Taehyung that there's definitely something bugging him appears to only rise the nausea further up his system. So, he tries taking a few deep breaths that can give him at least a bit of confidence that he's not going to throw up right now. That would make his dongsaeng's own tummy upset, and that would make two sick members too many. Three if Hoseok woke up and saw.

Taehyung, however, still manages to chuckle at his hyung's response, his own stomach beginning to simmer with a bilious feeling that is much too strong to control.

Seokjin continues to drive, the car rumbling and bouncing a bit as the oldest member of Bangtan makes to change lanes. Taehyung sighs deeply, stifling a quiet and yet, sickly belch into his fist. The taste is rancid as it is nauseating, and Taehyung's head becomes swimmy with the motion of the car.

Fourty minutes. All he needs is fourty minutes. They'll be there soon.

He looks over at Yoongi, who is now slumped over the seat in front, his warm forehead pressed firmly against it. His cat-like eyes are wide open, not daring to close them in fear that it might aggravate the overwhelming queasiness, the same that has him constantly swallowing down bitter saliva. It was frustrating to feel each movement of the vehicle inside of him as if his stomach followed every turn ten times harder. The disgusting acrid taste of bile is beginning to coat the insides of his mouth, quickly managing to make the rapper gag on the back of his hand. He gulps heavily, not knowing what is left to do to distract himself from the horrendous fate that's awaiting. His vision is spinning too briskly, worsening the fierce attack of the beast that's spitting fire in his guts, writhing and tugging at the knot of restraint, letting it come undone.

Oh oh. He's in big trouble.

Yoongi snatches a plastic bag from Namjoon's lap –bless this kid's weird habit of using random objects to mark where he stops reading– and opens it just fast enough to let a stream of saliva fall inside. He barely listens to his tallest dongsaeng whining about how he's going to lose the page, but at this point he doesn't even care.

“Hyung, pull ov—” he manages to say before a gag cuts him off. If this was a one-time thing, he'd be okay with just getting it over with. Still, he knows that once he vomits, he won't stop until his stomach is completely empty. Plus Taehyung will definitely throw up as well. The most convenient thing at the moment is to pull off.

Seokjin looks up in the rearview mirror, brows furrowed at the sounds behind him. He’s too focused on the road to have heard correctly, however the sight in the mirror is enough for his heart to nearly stop.

“Shit. I knew we wouldn’t last the whole ride. Namjoon.” Seokjin looks over at Namjoon who is still grieving his lost bookmark. “More bags, or cups, or something!” He yells.

Namjoon raises a brow in befuddlement before turning around, spotting Yoongi with his head deep in plastic, his spine curved as strangled, bloodcurdling sounds force their way out of his throat.

Taehyung groans, trying his damndest to cover his ears or, anything so that his hyung’s own sickness won’t set him off but, he’s far too close for comfort, and the vehicle is still hot and moving and Taehyung feels really, really sick.

“Hyung... hyung you gotta pull over.”

“Tae it’s a straight shot to where we are going and there is no shoulder in sight. I can’t just pull over in the middle of the road.” Seokjin grits between clenched teeth, not as angry as he is panicked.

Yoongi can't see a thing where he is, his head almost completely inside the plastic bag. Still, he's able to sense Taehyung's discomfort. He knows that the poor guy is wincing at the sound of acid grating his throat, of stream after stream of saliva dropping into the plastic, he knows it must be torture for him. Even so, he can't do more than to push himself as far from the singer as possible.

Namjoon springs into action a little too late, after the older rapper's gags become productive and he's faced with a mouthful of sick almost spilling on the floor. He retreats another blastic bag from his backpack and another one from the glove box, putting both at their reach. He has a feeling Taehyung is going to need it soon. Using one of the multiple wristbands he's wearing, the middle Kim brother crouches down to tie Yoongi's hair back before he must pat his back in fear that he might not be breathing enough. By the hard way, Namjoon learns that he can't entirely focus on Yoongi when Taehyung is showing signs of getting sick too. He learns his lesson when a considerable amount of spit lands on his shoulder.

Muttering a curse under his breath, the maknae of the rap line pushes a bag under the singer's chin just in time. The plastic crunches and gets heavier as the youngest Kim meets the undigested remains of the meal he forcefully ate hours ago. Namjoon can't reassure him with any physical contact since both of his hands are busy, but he tries to calm both of them down with quiet words, being extra careful not to wake anyone up.

Being the only one awake besides two sick friends and a stressed driver has to be terrible.

Taehyung’s hands quiver around the plastic bag, his own resolve crumbling as he tries to hold it but, can’t. Bile rips the lining of his throat, clattering into the plastic below with a loud and scratchy retch. Jimin is quick to massage his tense shoulders, shushing his intense and violent heaves. The middle child of the maknae line has always been a very dramatic puker, but with the sway of the car as well as the altitude that they are speeding along, Taehyung’s stomach is simply a punching bag against the environment.

“H-Hyung, please pull over.” Taehyung manages to slur before he’s back to retching, a particularly thick stream of bile pummeling into the bag so hard that is almost falls out of Taehyung’s grip.

Seokjin curses at the wheel. “I’ll stop as soon as I can, I promise. I’m really sorry you two.”

Taehyung whimpers, his stomach sour and not done with him yet. “‘S okay...”

Jeongguk is fully awake now and caught up in the turmoil of the vehicle. He’s closer in proximity to Yoongi and so, he rubs a calm hand up and down the rapper’s back, the second oldest member groaning and gagging into the rippled plastic.

In between the cacophony of gags and bile hitting the plastic bags, Namjoon notices the two of the maknaes having gotten up to help. He sighs in relief, seeing that the middle kid of the rap line and the one with the most sensitive stomach is still asleep, not having noticed yet the commotion involving his bandmates.

“Someone keep an eye on Hoseok-hyung.” the leader asks, holding Yoongi's bag as he appeared to grow too weak to do it by himself. It feels like hell broke loose inside of him, the queasiness not residing for a single moment. The car's still swinging through the bumpy road and both his stomach and Taehyung's are actively working to empty themselves. The sound of his retching, of the others' voices, the movement, it overwhelms his senses, his ears feeling like they're stuffed with cotton. Thinking of resting on the floor once they pull over is the only comfort he has right now.

Trying not to lose balance, the eldest rapper puts his hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the feeling of spit soaked cotton on his skin has him gagging once again. The tall dongsaeng moves to shake his hand off, instead grabbing the bag with one hand and holding him up in place with the other. It seems like making a mess is going to be unavoidable.

“Tae-ya, hold on to me if you need.” he suggests, lamenting the fact that there's nothing more he can do. Namjoon stretches his elbow out to him, his shoulder still wet and gross and his hand occupied with the plastic bag that is constantly growing in weight.

Taehyung whimpers, listening to his hyung’s suggestion as he grabs ahold of him, tight. His stomach is contracted, quivering and throbbing as it literally tries to expel itself from Taehyung’s throat. Yoongi seems to be fairing no better, the older rapper only becoming increasingly nauseated by the loud, forceful heaves that Taehyung gives out.

Without warning, the car sways sharply to the right, Seokjin finally finding an opening as he approaches the shoulder, unfortunately, the movement of the car wreaks havoc on both Yoongi and Taehyung’s stomachs once again.

“Sorry!” Seokjin cringes sheepishly, the car coming to a slow stop. Taehyung groans, his throat on fire and tasting of rancid acid.

Once there is no movement, Namjoon considers it's a good moment to open the door as quietly as possible, waiting for Yoongi to regain control of his upset stomach so he can pull him out to recover. Two arms aren't enough in situations like this– there bags that need to be held, hair that has to be pulled back, backs that need to be rubbed and two men in need of support.

“Jiminie, can you help me with Taehyung?” Namjoon asks, stepping out of the car with Yoongi's bag to place it on the floor, coming back immediately after to help his hyung to get up. He offers a hand to the second youngest singer, using a little strength to pull him up and out, then gestures to Jungkook for him to stay with Hoseok. Two nauseated members are more than enough. Three of them would be utter chaos.

A little of Yoongi's saliva ends up in Namjoon's shirt, but before he can worry about it, the tall child brushes the matter off, instead pulling him and Taehyung to the ground in case he has more to bring up.

“Almost done, guys.” he encourages, focusing more on the small rapper since Jimin –sweet and good Jimin– is already taking care of his baby Tae. He's so good at bringing people the comfort they need. There's something in the way he rubs his dongsaeng's tense shoulders, cards his tiny fingers through his hair and mutters soft words of encouragement that makes Jiminie the best member at caretaking. Namjoon wonders if he's doing a good job with Yoongi, and if he'll ever be at least half as good as Jimin is.

Yoongi retches again, a stream of sick dropping onto the floor beneath him; the sound brings the youngest rapper's attention to him. His hands are holding him upright and trying their best to dissolve the tension on his back.

“That's it. Don't hold back.” he's cringing at the desperate sounds that make their way out of Yoongi's lips in between mouthfuls of bile. “We'll get you both some time to rest once we arrive, don't worry.”

He then remembers it's better to stay silent around the rapper when he's sick. So he does just that, instead patting his back and massaging his almost always sore neck.

“I'm getting you some water, hold on.” he whispers after long, torturing minutes of Yoongi expelling his guts until there's nothing left. As he makes to stand up, he notices that his hand is intertwined with the older's. Weird. He doesn't remember linking their fingers so strongly.

The sounds from the other side of the vehicle do more than set Taehyung off. As soon as the door whips open, Taehyung has fallen to his hands and knees, his eyes screwed shut as he retches, his throat crackling and his voice grated with nausea. Sick jets from his lips at a rapid pace, plopping to the grass as Taehyung struggles to grasp onto something, his hands clawing at the dirt and bugs below.

“Oh baby no, don’t do that.” Jimin coos, whipping out a hair tie that he’s found from his bag and tying Taehyung’s hair up into a little bun. He holds the boy up, the singers hand darting out to hold his hand. “You’re okay. Let it out TaeTae.”

Taehyung whines, coughing violently as mouthful after mouthful of vomit pours from his lips to the grass. “Jiminie... it hurts.” A few tears have fallen into the puddle of puke below, tearing at the edges of Jimin’s heart. Yoongi’s heaves are still clear and apparent, ripping through the already wild air of the road. Jimin sighs, giving Taehyung’s hand a tight squeeze.

“We’ll be stopped for a minute baby. Relax.” He says. Just then, Jungkook is at their side, a hand on Jimin’s arms and eyes wide with worry.

“Anything I can do? Hobi-hyung looks a little green so I told him to stay in the back.”

Jimin smiles, so proud of how responsible and able their maknae has become, or maybe he’s just always been that way. “A water and some napkins would be great. Thanks Kookie.”

Jungkook nods, kissing Jimin’s head and giving Taehyung’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before running off to the trunk to get the things that were asked of him.

Taehyung groans with desperation, his stomach still at war with itself, his skin burning as his insides churn all gooey and hot. The other side of the car seems a bit quiet so, maybe Yoongi’s one sickness has died down a bit. He hopes this is the case for him.

Seokjin rounds the front of the car. “Talked to the managers. They understand and we have all the time that we need. Just, breathe for me, okay Tae-ah?”

Taehyung nods, Jimin’s soft hand still alongside his back and skin. It was easy to breathe like that, with Jimin holding onto him, smelling of citrus and something sweet. “Okay.”

After one final heave, the feral beast inside Yoongi's stomach appears to have subsided, at last. It takes just a second to realize the way his throat feels like it's been ripped apart, his abdomen too sore from continuously retching, his hands shaky and unstable. As he feels he's going to fall face-first into the puddle of mess he's done, a pair of firm hands bring him up and away from it.

“Easy there.” Namjoon mumbles, letting him rest against the open door of the vehicle, avoiding to give him more physical contact than needed. He just knew the rapper liked to be touched only when prompted. “Are you done?” a small nod is the reply he gets, but it's enough to release the tension accumulating on his shoulders. “Good. Don't move for a while, okay?” he asks, raising his sun-kissed, long hand to card his dark hair lovingly, just like a worried younger brother would do. That's what he is, isn't he?

“What about the—” Yoongi starts, raising a hand slightly to ask about the schedule they still had to complete. There's so much work to do, and look at him, his small body limp against the van after having puked his guts out. His eyes are staring at nothing, but before he can realize he's spacing out, there's a small face looking back at him, soft but manly features that he knows like the back of his hand.

“Hyung, don't. Take your time to rest.” Seconds before realizing what he's doing, he's rolling his eyes. “As hypocritical as it may sound, please rest” Namjoon adds, gifting him with a smile with dimples. When his eyelids grow heavy, his tallest dongsaeng is still there, his little eyes looking hesitant wether to bother him with holding his hand or to let him be. To end his internal doubt, the tiny rapper stretches out his arm and pulls him closer, not using too much strength to not stir his barely calm stomach.

“How's Tae?” he slurs a little, basically using the younger as a pillow to rest his tired body. Other than his nervous breathing –poor Joon is trying to measure his breaths to not disturb his exhausted hyung–, he doesn't seem to mind at all. That's all he needs to stay close and let the tallest carry his weight.

“I believe he's done too.” fortunately, there were no gags coming from said singer that proved him wrong. “Both of you gave us quite the scare, huh.” although he's serious, his tone has a hint of sweetness, only confirmed with how softly his hands are holding Yoongi's face, as if he's not mad at all. Actually, he's not even mad.

“'m sorry...” there is a silence that makes Namjoon think that the rapper is finally drifting off, but then he adds “I got spit on your shirt.” Yoongi genuinely feels guilty, but the younger lets out a laugh and messes up his hair, looking the least worried about it.

“So did Tae. And I'm not mad at any of you. You'll have to see me shirtless for a while, though. I'm so sorry.” the older dismisses that last part, wriggling his way out of the hug he unconsciously started. Ignoring how lethargic he feels, there's a concern still burning within him. Namjoon seems to comprehend as soon as the name of the sick dongsaeng falls out of his lips. “Want me to take you to him?” there's a tiny nod as a response, once again.

“Jimin-ah, how's Tae? Can I bring Yoongi-hyung to him?” the leader asks loudly to the air, waiting for said dancer to respond.

Jimin calls back to Namjoon from the other side of the vehicle, his voice a little shaky but, nothing too drastic.

“H-He’s good, and yeah, you can!” He replies, prompting a sigh from Namjoon.

He looks to Yoongi who, has his cheek smashed against the the car door. “Think you can walk over with me? Lean against me if you have to.”

Yoongi thinks that nodding probably isn’t a good idea anymore, and so, he slurs out a wet “yes” and allows Namjoon to carry his nearly dead body to where Taehyung lies in the grass, a towel covering where he had vomited. His eyes are hazy, his lids droopy, but he’s alive. That’s all that really matters.

Taehyung smiles lazily, giving Yoongi a wave. “Hey hyung...” He slurs, sounding almost drunk. This makes Yoongi snort, his pouty lips curved into a small smile.

“Hey Tae.”

Namjoon helps Yoongi to Taehyung’s side, the cool breeze helping to ease the surrounding edge of anxiety, as well as the dwindling nausea plaguing the daegu line. Taehyung takes this time to lean heavily against Yoongi.

“I threw up a lot...”

Yoongi sighs. “I know. Me too.”

Seokjin is now at Namjoon’s side, eyeing the two sick boys with worry etched into his features. “No rush at all but... we’re so close to the site. Do you think... you guys can make it through the rest of the trip?”

Yoongi and Taehyung share a look, not willing to make any promises but, certain that they’ll be okay since their stomachs are as empty as one can get.

“Yeah. We’ll make it.”

——————————————

A/N: school is a bitch. but more requests to come!

#bts sickfic #sick bts #sickfic #bts emeto #emeto #sick #my fic #tw emeto #sick!yoongi #sick!taegi #sick!taehyung #caretaker!bts #caretaker!jungkook #caretaker!namjoon #caretaker!jimin #carsick #carsickness

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azraelkhye · 4 years

Text

@archerlangley

Azrael feels guilty. The weight of it wraps tightly around his chest, like bandages holding together broken ribs, making it difficult to breathe evenly, even as he plasters a hesitant smile atop his lips and tries his damndest to get to know his compatriots. He is at risk of further isolating himself from the one reason he’s joined this venture, but he does not miss the way Archer approaches others like a wounded animal, frightened, on edge, willing to lash out. It troubles Azra deeply. There are no books to describe what one ought to do should their lover’s younger brother disappear again. He has never known sibling bonds, only knows what he sees in Archer, and has suspected Archer’s bond to be something unusual.

There is not much to go around, when it comes to food, or warmth, or things to offer, but Azra tucks the scratchy woolen blanket over his arm anyway, and carries with him his ration. Archer will not take it, he knows this. It is a fool’s errand, but when the shoe fits. He approaches cautiously, moving to sit down near him, the blanket large enough to share if they sit together. “You’ve not eaten.” He observes, “If we are to go in search of Grayson, you will need your strength.” He rationalizes, carefully offering the roasted scraps. They are still mostly warm.

#( archer langley. )#( archer | three. )#( thread. )#( closed starter. )#( plot drop: a decision. )

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spackeets-written-madness · 4 years

Text

The Assult on Triton

The Fortress of Triton holds the frozen Dark Lord, Zargothrax and the Forces of Chaos wish to free him and will slaughter all that stands in their way.

Also on Ao3!

Dissclaimers: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and violence, explicit language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was chaos outside the fortress of Triton, hoards of demons, zombies, goblins and chaos wizards streamed forward, seemingly with no end to their forces. They assaulted the fortress of the Space Knights of Crail relentlessly, trying their damndest to get inside and kill the ones that dare stand against them. All kinds of demons swarmed with the goblins and wizards: faecal demons (that the Space Knights were more used to dealing with), imps, siege demons, demon knights, and flying demons. This was a larger-scale invasion than any invasion before and it was gruelling and bloody. The Knights already had to fall back to the fortress and hold it after losing the fields.

A large muted orange demon grotesquely built with massive biceps and rolls of fat thundered into view of the gates, snorted air out of its large nostrils and let out a roar that echoed through the air, shaking the fortified walls. It then tilted its massive horns atop an armoured head down and charged towards the door. With each large step towards the fortress’s doors, the demon shook the ground and crushed oblivious faecal demons under hoof and rammed its large horns into the door.

The door shuddered as the large demon hit it, blowing some of the Space Knights back from the force of the impact, throwing them into the dirt. The door miraculously held, but the cracks forming on it revealed that it won’t hold for long.

“Get up! Get up and reinforce that door! The forces of Chaos must not break through!” Sir Regulon yelled, running into the courtyard from the stairs. He blasted a flying demon with his laser gun, finishing it off with his sword when it fell down.

The Knights that were thrown back from the impact got up as quickly as they could with some help from their peers and immediately yelled out orders for something more to reinforce the gates. Their voices joined the chaos of battle outside.

The large bulbous behemoth that rammed into the doors, got up, huffed in annoyance that it didn’t break through, began to walk back to where it originally was to try again. The swarms of goblins, zombies, other demons and wizards moved around the large demon as it lumbered past. It stopped and turned around, let out another thunderous roar into the sky and charged, crushing some more oblivious faecal demons and astral zombies underneath it’s massively hoofed and muscular legs as it ran into the door again.

The door cracked more but did not shatter nor budge much to the displeasure of the massive demon. It got up again looking at the door with its hands on its large hips like a disappointed mother that caught her kid drawing on the walls. It studied the door critically trying to think of the best way to get it open. The massive horned demon lifted a hand off its hip and knocked twice, opened its jaw to rows of sharp teeth and spoke in a guttural and deep voice, “Your pizza order’s here,” it said with an amused undertone. All it got for its trouble was having hot oil dumped on its head which it took in stride. “How rude…” it muttered.

A stray spell hit the demon on its flank near its thick and armoured tail, fat and muscle rippling as the demon jumped in surprise. After it had landed with a loud crash, loose dirt and pebbles getting thrown up from its surprise it swung its head and its four eyes independently sought out who the hell shot him in the ass. “IDIOT SPELL CASTERS! WATCH WHERE YOU FIRE! NOW GET INTO THAT FORTRESS, WE MUST FREE THE DARK LORD!” it roared in the general direction of the chaos wizards that it had picked up on the way here.

“YES SIR, DEMON COMMANDER ETH’TELAK!” came the combined answer along with a salute. One of the chaos wizards tried very hard not to piss himself, very glad that he didn’t face the main brunt of the commander’s wrath for that loose spell.

Eth’telak then faced the door again, putting a clawed finger to his chin in thought as the chaos happened around him, spells thundered against the walls. The demon felt another dumping of hot oil over his head and shoulders. He looked up at the ones that poured oil on him. “Stop that! You’re merely giving me a nice shower!” he yelled at the humans who shirked away from his gaze. He then paused looking up, he took two steps backwards and jumped upwards, landed his weight on the top of the wall which sent cracks all throughout the stonework. He then got over on the other side of the wall, landing heavily on all fours, shaking the ground with his impact and landing on several knights.

Sir Regulon stopped in his tracks as this massive demon came over the wall, nearly the size the door that’s meant to be keeping these hellish bastards out. “Hey, demon!” he called out, taking aim with his laser blaster.

Eth’telak lifted his head to look at this human that dared to talk to him, lifting a scaled brow. “What, human?” he asked as he got up from the ground, picking up one of the knights in his four-fingered grip and crushing them.

“Did you eat your mother!?” Sir Regulon yelled at him, aiming to try and make the demon angry. He also took aim at the six-metre tall demon’s chest.

“Brother, actually, but nice try!” Eth’telak said in response just as he got shot in the chest by a laser blast. It merely gave him a small scratch on his thick hide.

Sir Regulon gazed on with horror that his shot did nothing aside from giving the demon a bit of a scratch.

Eth’telak looked at the small charr on his chest, then at the human, looking on with horror. “You hit the equivalent of your own fortress walls with a handgun, what do you think was going to happen?!” he roared in amazement at the idiocy of this human. He then quickly turned around to headbutt the large doors open to allow the other demons through.

The forces of chaos streamed through, engaging with the Space Knights of Crail as Eth’telak laughed. Sir Regulon fought as hard as he could, but even he was sure that the fortress was lost as Knights fell faster than demons. Chaos and Justice fought for different goals, one to guard a prison of what the other side wanted.

Everyone then heard the sound of a laser something that arced through the forces of Chaos in the back, followed by another laser sweep.

Eth’telak turned towards the entrance after he heard the laser blasts go off, flicking his tail to try and wipe out some humans as he investigated. “That better not be who I fucking think it is,” he muttered to himself, looking out of the fortress and down the fields.

Down the fields was what could be described as a one-man army. A one-man army donned in armour made of wolf and more for comfort than form, wielding a massive battle-axe which he used to cut down demons, zombies, wizards and goblins alike, showering himself and the battle-field in blood. It was the Hootsman. The King of California and Hero of Unst, and in league with the other two heroes: Angus McFife XIII and Ralathor, Hermit of the Cowdenbeath.

The blonde-haired barbarian, dripping with blood (not his own) ripped through the forces of chaos with an axe, fist and boot. Hootsman throws his axe and it sails through the air and embeds itself in a pretty large demon, felling it. He was disarmed… So they thought, until he let out a warcry, grabbing the nearest goblin and ripping their head from their shoulders with another cry. He punches a few wizards, their necks snapping with the force as he strides up to the demon that had his axe embedded in its skull. He ripped it out and cut down several imps that tried to get the drop on him. He faced Eth’telak in the distance and lets out a warcry in a challenge.

Eth’telak let out a roar in annoyance. “Of course it’s the fucking Hootsman!” he spat. He turned to the forces slaughtering the Space Knights. “Free Zargothrax, free the Dark Lord! I’ll distract the Hootsman!” he ordered and was answered with a chorus of ‘yes, sir!’s. He faced where the barbarian was tearing through his forces, let out a thunderous roar, dropped to all fours unlike when he was charging at the gates and began to run towards the barbarian with his head and horns down.

The Hootsman was minding his own business cutting through the forces of chaos when he heard a thunderous gallop, looking up just in time to get swept by a horn and tossed into the air by one massive demon. While he went flying up he figured that this demon might be an important one and a good challenge. He grinned and twisted his body in the air, pointing his axe down as he fell towards the demon. The barbarian made a hole in the ground with his impact, but the demon was a lot more agile than he thought as the orange behemoth had dodged the warrior of Unst. He climbed out of the ditch and faced the demon that was standing on his hind legs and appeared to be waiting for him.

“I’ll give you credit, demon, you’re a lot more agile than I thought, now,” Hootsman points his axe at the demon in a threat and continues, “who are you?” He readied himself for the demon to charge again since it was no doubt a dumb brute.

The large demon grins. “I am Eth’telak, Demon Commander for the Dark Lord Zargothrax!” he introduced himself with a fist to chest salute in honour. After the salute, he dropped his arm and snorted out hot air from his nostrils.

That caught the King of California by surprise. “An intelligent demon?”

Eth’telak huffed. “Yes, someone has to command these idiots in the Lord’s absence!” he roared, crushing another faecal demon under-hoof that tried to get between the commander and his battle. The demon commander pulled a face and shook the bits of shit off his hoof. “Repulsive demons! Even for my tastes. I need a nice dragons blood bath after I pound you into the dirt, Hoostman, King of California!” he roared.

“I too will need a bath after this!” the Hootsman roared back, charging forward, lifting his axe to strike.

Eth’telak stepped away from the screaming human, swatting him with his tail, sending him flying and skidding along the ground. While the Hoostman was prone, the demon dropped down on all fours, rammed a horn in the ground charged forward, ripping up ground as he came straight at Hootsman, kicking up bits of rock and dirt.

Hootsman decided that it would be a good idea to dodge that attack and get out of the way. He did exactly that, leaping up and striking the demon’s armoured back, his axe glancing off harmlessly. Okay, don’t strike the armoured bits, got it. He tumbled off Eth’telak’s back and onto the dirt. He got back up and scowled.

Eth’telak laughed as he stood back up and began walking towards the barbarian, every step shaking the demon’s massive muscles and fat, his large tail acting as a counter-balance to his steps. The demon lifts his right hand and strikes Hootsman, or rather where he was as the much smaller figure dodged the strike and towards the demon, striking at his heel and successfully drawing black blood. The demon let out a roar of pain as he tried to step on Hootsman as the barbarian struck again and on the back of the demon commander’s knee which dropped the demon. Eth’telak grabbed the Hootsman and flung him away as he did his best to stand back up, hoisting up his massive frame.

The Hootsman engaged again, but Eth’telak was ready for him and they resumed battle, fighting hard to try and kill the other. Hootsman continued to cut into any weak point he could find (which happened to be his joints) on the demon while Eth’telak threw him around. The Hootsman tried to get past the Demon Commander to stop the return of Zargothrax while Eth’telak was trying to stall for time for his forces to free the sorcerer.

After several minutes more of battle, Hootsman had ended up on an exhausted Eth’telak’s chest and raised his axe to deliver the final blow when the demon started to laugh. The barbarian falters. “What’s so funny, demon? I defeated you!” he said, with triumph and raised his axe again.

Eth’telak continued to laugh and harder, lifting his hand he points towards the fortress of Triton. “You may have fought to defeat me...I fought to buy time for his return. And I won,” he said, watching the barbarian’s face fall, taking the opportunity and swatting him off his chest. The demon gets up, still laughing and held out a hand towards the demon army, several suddenly fell dead as bright orange energy was pulled from them and into Eth’telak, healing all of his injuries. The demon commander, as soon as he was healed, retreated towards the fortress of Triton and the pillar of dark energy swirling in a dark tornado from it into the sky.

“NO!” the Hootsman yelled as he tried to follow Eth’telak but unfortunately the demon was galloping on four legs and was far ahead of the barbarian of Unst cutting through the forces of Chaos again.

The King of California continued to cut through the forces as he tried to fight his way to the fortress. He should have tried to run for it. Maybe he can still make it? He punched a few goblins as he worked his way towards the fortress again. The Hootsman then launched some more sweeps of bladed energy, cutting through several demons, zombies and wizards alike.

Dark laughter that suddenly echoed through the sky and the fields told him that he would have no hope of trying to save the fortress and he turned around, fighting to retreat back to his allies and tell them about what just happened.

#gloryhammer #the hootsman #ralathor (mentioned)#angus mcfife xiii (mentioned)#zargothrax (mentioned)#original characters #blood mention #harsh language warning #keiran writes

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