#but the wasp just hovered around it as if it was still afraid

[r0-boat]

Summer Tradition

Zero x gn! reader

Sfw

Cw:yandere character, alluding to Stockholm Syndrome if you squint

(I had a pole on Discord and whoever won would get a fluffy drabble and your wasp man won)

Summary: enjoy a picnic with your wasp bf

The Unforgettable scent of fresh air hits you as you stepped outside of your base for the first time in a long time.

" Are you enjoying the warm summer sun my love?" Zero says putting on an old the backpack filled with various things he needs to make this particular day special for you.

You look back at him and nod noticing the backpack.

"Honey bee, what that?"

Zero's antennas parked up like that nickname, " O-oh? This? It's a secret I can't show you until we get to our destination"

"Soo... he wanted to take me somewhere how do we get there

Zero stretches his wings it's been a while since he threw a great distance but he was by no means rusty

" I will carry you of course" he says his arms pulling you closer before lifting your legs up in to his other arms carrying you bridal style. he leads down to whisper " I've always wanted to carry you like this~"

His forehead nuzzles yours his wings began to beat faster and faster for long he started hovering the ground he cooed seeing you retract against his chest afraid of him potentially dropping you. He could never, wasp hybrids were much stronger than humans and not on that he was a soldier so caring you was child's play.

His wings effortlessly carried him higher and higher as he held you close. Heat flushes your face at the sudden closeness you look up at Zero who looks back, moving his mandibles down in his version of a smile.

The trip was going to be a little longer to avoid his old colony. The thought his old Colony mates ripping your way from his arms made his hold to tighten around with you. As if you read his mind your hand rubs his chest calming his anxiety and soothing his grip.

"Love, look we are here" he says pointing over at a massive tree in the middle of a dense forest, his slow it's beating as he begins to decend " you did so well for me darling~" Zero cooed at your bravery for flying with him " I was very happy to share that moment with you~"

His feet finally touched the ground as you gently lets you go. This place was strange it was daytime yet Under the trees massive canopy was dark because all the trees around it's canopy grew tall enough to shut out most sunlight.

The trees vines that wrapped around and dangled from the tree had bioluminescent buds on the vines like natural fairy lights.

Even though everything had little sunlight the flowers still flourished under the bioluminescent fairy lights, tiny wildflowers and moss roses decorated patch of green grass.

A tiny creek rushed through, the calming sound of rushing water only added to this place's peacefulness.

Zero fumbled with his backpack while you, as if you were a child again ran to the big tree wanting to look at the fairy light Vines and the tiny wild flowers, maybe if you're lucky find a mushroom or two,not pick just to look at it.

His heart swelled with love watching his darling frolic happily. Zero finished setting up the blankets and called his darling over. A small beam of light shined down on you like an angel and suddenly he lost his ability to speak.

"I-im very happy that you like it here. I was very nervous about taking you here before, haha...ha!"

His heart was beating fast as you sat down next to him, he has known you for quite a while now yet he still feels like he's meeting you for the first time.

"What's all this?" You ask

"Oh! I heard of this summer tradition with humans called 'pick-nick' and it means very specifically have lunch outside with loved one. I-i love you so it's only natural-"

Your scooted that's the wasp talked on you leaned on him.

Zero stopped feeling your sudden closeness looking down at you. "Oh, hello-" he couldn't help but chirp as he wrapped his around you with other hand on top of yours, fingers just barely intertwining. If wasp hybrids could blush he would be turning red.

He opens his backpack pulling out tupperware of foods like cut fruit and cooked meat.

" I don't think I understand this 'pick-nick' thing... in the human book I read it's supposed to be a small lunch... if this doesn't fill you up I can cook you something when we get back home"

Zero says as he opens up a case of fruit. He holds it up to you to grab but you shake your head " feed it to me please"

Zero although he was screaming in pure happiness on the inside he kept it calm "as you wish" .

He picked up a strawberry with his fork, watching attentively as you take the strawberry in your mouth and start chewing your eyes light up at the sweetness. Thinking Zero would like it you grab a second for it and the second strawberry and hold it up to his face

"For me? I- ok." He opens his mouth showing you rows of sharp teeth gently sliding the strawberry off the metal fork before chewing. "Thank you it's very good~"

Zero continues to hand-fed you until all the fruit and meat were gone. He fumbled with his backpack trying to find the sandwiches. While you laid against his sides the Rushing water threatening to lull you to sleep. When he finally finds the Tupperware he noticed that you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Darling? Are you tired?"

"No im fine"

" it's okay we can finish the sandwiches later. you can sleep on me"

Zero lays on the blanket pulling you down gently with him having you lay down his chest, with the flow centimeter in the Rushing Water and his heartbeat your heavy eyes finally close.

Zero coos his hand rubbing your back gently.

Yes he finally sees why humans like this tradition a lot and he can't wait to do it next year.

#oc: zero #fluff #ocs #monster boyfriend #wasp monster #monster x reader #gn!reader

[whisker-biscuit]

The Lines We Cross: Chapter 17

The Gunboat Graveyard

--------------------------------------------------

Yes, perhaps this…this time it could be different.

--------------------------------------------------

At first, when Carmelita parted ways with Sly and headed towards the ship’s bow, she didn’t really have a plan in mind beyond “poke around until you find Raleigh or more proof of his wrongdoing.” She only went the way she did because she wanted to get a closer look at the blimp hovering above everything, and she craned her neck upwards to study it when she reached the front railing.

It was about as big as she’d estimated it to be up close. Almost the entire front half was covered in lit windows that would’ve made it stick out like a beacon if not for the rain and fog it kept pumping out, helping to obscure the light within. A large, long chain was hooked at its tail, anchoring it to the ship from some place in the port side she couldn’t see from where she was standing.

Searching for the other end of that chain seemed as good a starting point as any, so the fox began walking in that direction with her hand on her holster and her eyes darting between the blimp and her own surroundings. Getting seen out here because she was too focused on her own goal would be a very careless mistake that she wasn’t keen on making. Her partner would never let her live it down.

Eventually she found what she was looking for – on the outer hull on the port side, the chain disappeared into a hole screwed directly into the ship itself. Carmelita eyed how far down it was from the deck, then began scanning for a hatch or a door nearby; it stood to reason that there had to be a way down into that part of the ship to adjust or remove the chain if need be.

The sound of footsteps made her crouch behind the nearest cannon as the two walruses whose boat they’d stowed away on came by with barrels over each of their shoulders. The inspector watched them stop at one of the more ramshackle buildings and push their weight against a wall; the thing swung open with ease and the two entered without a single glance around them.

It should have surprised her that even on his personal ship, Raleigh still had secret entrances to more secure locations, but it didn’t. He wasn’t the world’s most infamous engineer for nothing.

Carmelita ran to the hidden door and slipped inside before it could close, afraid that it might lock her out if she didn’t. The room she ended up in was dark, but she could see stairs in front of her and the goons’ flashlights bobbing up and down as they made their way down farther ahead. After waiting a full minute for the sound of them to disappear, she followed. The further she went, the chillier the air grew even though she was out of the rain. It puzzled her until she reached the bottom of the stairwell and found a most bizarre sight to greet her.

It was the entire front hull of the ship, but where space and volume should have been there was instead seawater filling up a majority of the great expanse. Inspector Fox gaped as she stared at an assortment of broken boats of all kinds: wooden and metal, commercial and recreational, small and large – although never large enough to ever compete with the monstrosity whose belly they had ended up in. Every single one had either been stripped down to bare frames or were in the process of it, as she looked and saw dozens of people swarming about them like wasps picking a carcass clean. Others retrieved parts and cargo to be carted off to who-knew-where, no doubt to be repurposed into whatever mad machinations the frog had in mind.

It was a graveyard for ships. There was no other way to describe it.

She spent a full minute just gaping at it all in disgusted shock. There had to be at least ten boats that she could see, and that was just from here. Countless stolen boats, countless stolen goods – countless stolen lives – and all the evidence was right here. Instead of being thrilled for what she had just found, the fox furiously ground her teeth. All this wickedness and death because one rich asshole had gotten bored.

Well, he damn well was going to learn what true boredom was after she had put him behind bars. That was a vow she made to herself right then and there; Raleigh was going to face justice come hell or high water, no matter what.

Just as Carmelita had finished making that declaration in her head and started working her way deeper into the hull, there was a sudden silent vibration in her pocket. She sidestepped into the most unnoticeable place she could find, wedged between the wall of the ship and a large piece of scavenged metal, and pulled out her cellphone.

It wasn’t a number she recognized, but she knew, almost implicitly, exactly who it was.

“Ringtail? Is that you?” She asked as soon as she answered. There was a strange, gulping sort of hiss on the other end that set her on edge. “What’s that sound?”

“It’s – it’s me,” Sly answered, voice flimsy and frail, and she realized that the unusual sound was his breathing. “I’m – it’s – there’s a – a problem, I can’t…”

It was hard to make out what he was saying, but the single word made her stiffen, assuming the worst. “A problem? What kind of problem? Did someone see you?”

“Yes!” He whined. He whined, which floored her more than anything he was saying. “Seen, I was seen, we have to get out of here, kāi zǒu, we need to –”

“Okay, whoa, first you need to calm down.” Her head was spinning as he babbled, as it hit her that they were in now a lot of trouble, but it would do neither of them good if she started spiraling as well. “I’m going to count to ten and I need you to breathe in and out along with me. Okay?”

He didn’t answer. Only more of that shallow, hissing breath as he struggled through the throes of a panic attack.

“Sly. I need you to listen to me,” the inspector repeated as calmly as she could manage, fighting her own dread with all the police training she’d ever received. “We can’t make a plan until you’ve stopped panicking.”

The raccoon made a sound like he was being strangled. Carmelita desperately wished she could find him to soothe him in person, but there wasn’t enough time for that.

“I’m starting now. One.”

“Inspector –” He begged, and for what she didn’t know.

“One.” She cut him off with as much authority as she could muster.

It seemed to do the trick. He gave an audible and incredibly stressed inhale, but he was doing as instructed. The fox could have breathed her own sigh of relief for it, and continued talking him down from his terror even as her own limbs were shaking and she peeked around the corner of her hiding spot to make sure no one was close enough to hear her quiet voice.

At the end of the countdown, she could no longer hear anything on the other end of the line, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“How are you feeling, Ringtail?” She asked tentatively.

“…Better.”

There was exhaustion and something else laced in his tone, but he sounded genuine, and it made her breathing a little easier. She glanced out at the open hull again as the second-most pressing matter reminded her that it needed to be dealt with.

“Good. Now, you said something about someone seeing you?”

“Yeah…one of Raleigh’s goons saw me and ran off, and I lost track of her. She’s probably already told him or is on her way to.”

“Shit.” Carmelita ran a hand through her bangs, biting her lip while she sped through all of their options. “Okay, we’re going to have to expedite our process, then. I’m going to call for reinforcements and warn them about the storm. Hopefully, either they’ll be able to make it through regardless or we can find a way to shut it down before they come.”

It wasn’t going to be safe for them to stay on the ship as soon as word got to the frog, but she was hesitant to suggest they leave immediately when she had just found the proverbial gold mine of Raleigh’s criminal operation. She half expected her partner to ask for them to do so, anyway, and she couldn’t say she blamed him.

“I…I don’t think they’ll have to worry about the storm for too much longer,” the raccoon said instead, surprising her. “The reason I was caught was because I stumbled onto what I think was an engine room, and I sorta…destroyed a machine or two.”

“Oh, great job! You sure got a lot done in fifteen minutes,” she replied sincerely. Even scared, he was just as competent as any officer, and it put her at ease despite the situation. “I found a way into the bow where I think they haul in wrecks straight into the ship itself, but this place is so big that I’m probably going to be here a while.”

“What about Raleigh knowing we’re here? Are you sure that’s safe?”

Sly sounded more worried for her than for himself, and she smiled to herself despite knowing he couldn’t see it, checking her surroundings again.

“Please, Ringtail, give me some credit. If I can handle mob bosses and voodoo priestesses all by myself, I can handle however many lowlifes who are scavenging stolen parts. As long as you keep yourself safe and out of sight, which I know you can, I think we’ll be okay.”

It seemed to reassure him, and for a moment she thought he was going to end the call from the long silence. Just as she was about to suggest it, he spoke up again, much more subdued and miserable – and using a word that she didn’t recognize at all.

“Cào, I’m sorry. I told you I’d be fine and then I screwed things up for you.”

“It’s…it’s fine, Sly. Mistakes happen and we plan accordingly.” She frowned thoughtfully, preoccupied, as she realized that he’d also slipped into a different language during his panic. It intrigued her. “I have a question, though – what was that language you were speaking earlier?”

“What? What did I say?”

“When you were saying we had to leave, you said something I didn’t understand, and also right before you apologized just now – it sounded like…” Carmelita knew she was going to butcher the word, but she tried anyway. “Ta-ow?”

“Oh, you heard that, huh?” There was a funny note to his voice that told her very clearly he had not meant to do that. “That was Mandarin. You probably shouldn’t repeat that last word out loud. It’s, uh, not very nice.”

Mandarin was not commonly taught in schools in the States, as far as she knew. It piqued her curiosity about his life and family again, but she knew she had to tread carefully so as not to step on his toes. “Is that the source of your accent?”

“I have an accent?” It sounded as though the mere idea was a shock to the raccoon.

“You do. It’s very faint, but I noticed it the first time we met. I couldn’t place it.” And truth be told, she hadn’t really noticed it since. It was simply another part of him just like his masked face and sarcastic nature.

“…Huh.”

“You didn’t know?” The inspector prodded, surprised.

“It’s not my first language,” Even through the phone, she could hear bitter bite in his tone. “I lived in Kunlun as a kid for a while. Picked up enough to get by.”

Kunlun? That was somewhere in China, right? Carmelita wrinkled her nose as she wracked her brain for where she’d heard the name in her geography studies – she couldn’t remember if it was a city, or a province, or something else, but it still plucked at her mind like an irritating, out of tune instrument.

“Anyway, sorry to give you a heart attack. I promise I’ll be more careful until your officer friends show up.” Sly’s voice cut through her thoughts, calm and collected and…flat. It was as if he hadn’t started the call in the middle of a mental meltdown. “Are we still meeting up again soon if nothing else changes?”

The fox blinked, caught off guard by his sudden disinterest. “Wh – yeah, we can do that. Just look out for yourself, okay, Ringtail?”

“I will.”

Carmelita stared down at her phone as Sly hung up without any delay, absentmindedly plugging his number into a proper contact while she considered his switch in mood, the tiny glimpse into himself that he’d just shared, and the predicament they were now in. She didn’t blame him for getting seen, nor his appropriate reaction to it, and she wondered if maybe that had been his impression; if maybe he had been so embarrassed once his emotions had calmed that he didn’t want to talk to her. She wished that they had been together when this had happened, or at least closer, so that she could reassure him that everything truly was fine.

So, they were on a time limit to stop a member of the Fiendish Five before it was too late, with reinforcements too far out to be of immediate help, and only their own wits, skills, and each other to protect themselves. Third time around, the inspector found she wasn’t as upset as she probably should have been. It was becoming a legitimate pattern now, but one she knew they could beat.

God, her life was weird.

Afraid to push her hideout’s luck with a second phone call, she shot a text to the local chief constable she’d been working with to triangulate Raleigh’s location telling her where she was, that she’d found the frog, and that she was requesting back-up as soon as possible. After a moment of hesitation, she sent a follow-up warning to beware of stormy weather. She fully believed that her partner had found a way to stop the storm machine, but it was always better to take precautions. And besides – she was determined not to let the pirate take down another ship.

Just as she was starting to creep back out into the open again, as if having been summoned by her thinking of him, there was another loudspeaker announcement that rang through the entire hull.

“Ahoy, dock hands! Capital job unloading that cargo today. You're the crown jewel of my operation.”

Raleigh’s voice was marginally more understandable this time, which Carmelita wasn’t sure was because his speaker system was actually decent down here or because the acoustics were simply that strong. She flattened herself against the metal sheet she’d been hiding behind, watching the distant lantern lights of the workers around her all stop at once to listen to their boss’ new message.

“Do me the service of proving your worth yet again by taking care of a little rodent problem I seem to be having.” The frog inhaled, deep and nasally and irritated. “It appears there's a prowler on the premises. I want him caught within the hour and hand-delivered to me, alive. But if any of you let him slip through your fingers…”

A frenzied mix of rage and glee seeped into his tone, making the inspector’s lips curl in repulsion.

“I'll personally flog the lot of you for an entire fortnight!”

The instant it became quiet again, the entire hull exploded with activity. Carmelita darted back into her safe place and watched as nearly half of the goons broke off from whatever they’d been doing to march up towards the deck. Their faces were hard with fear, clearly taking Raleigh’s threat dead serious, which made her stomach churn.

She waited until the burst of movement among the crew died down before daring to step out and begin exploring the place. The men all seemed to believe that they’d find Sly elsewhere, and she was going to take advantage of the thinning in their ranks to find as much evidence as she could – and perhaps where that damned chain to the blimp was.

It was a perfect opportunity, and yet…she couldn’t get Sly’s words, his terror over being seen out of her head. How so many people had just rushed off to search the rest of the ship for him, and how Raleigh had wanted him captured alive. She knew her partner could take care of himself. She knew he was stealthier than her despite her extensive training, that he could probably circle all of the criminals looking for him without a single one of them realizing he was even there.

He'd be fine. He could handle it. He’d already stalled the ship and the storm machine, and proved himself just as capable a fighter as she was – well, almost. The inspector was pretty sure she could beat him in a fight on the very slim chance they ever ended up sparring. But the fact remained that she trusted the raccoon to look after himself, and so she refused to go back up until the hour was through. Sly would let her know if he was actually in danger.

Repeating the self-reassurance like a motivational mantra, Carmelita made her way further into the unusual “graveyard”, searching for the hull of the ship to find the chain. Just as she expected, it was laughably easy to slip around the depleted crew as they kept at their jobs with single-minded determination. At one point she paused, watching several of them use giant hammers to knock pieces of boat right off their frames and into waiting arms, and wondered whether the sweat on everyone’s brows was from the hard work or from the shadow of their oppressive boss looming over everything they did.

She shook her head and moved on. There wasn’t any pity to be had for these people; they had chosen their profession, they had known the risks of their trade, and they should have known better than to work under a man as sadistic and unpredictable as the Fiendish Five’s chief machinist.

After another ten minutes of careful hiding, sneaking, and spying, painfully aware of the half-hour limit they’d given each other before meeting up again that was rapidly approaching, the fox finally found what she was looking for. Threaded through the inner metal wall of the ship, a solid three meters above her head, the chain anchoring the outside blimp swayed and rattled in rhythm with a storm she couldn’t see but could definitely feel. It trailed down past her view into ocean water she couldn’t gauge the depth of.

Carmelita looked around for a crank, or some kind of lever that could change the length of the chain, and blinked in surprise when instead she saw an odd contraption at the far end of the dock she was standing on. It was round and compact, floating easily in the water, and she realized that it was a miniature submarine. When she glanced down the length of the hull, she could see at least four more of them docked and waiting to be used – no doubt for retrieving wreckages that the boat crews had not been fast enough to reach before their targets had completely sunk.

When she approached the one she’d first noticed, it was with dumbfounded excitement to find the keys were still in its engine. With one last glance around to make sure no one was noticing the hijacking, the fox climbed into the sub, closed the glass hatch, and began to sink into the dark water.

This was the exact moment her cell phone rang for a second time.

She pulled it out to see Sly’s name lighting up the screen again. Confusion turned to panic and she answered immediately, assuming the worst.

“Sly! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Inspector.” She could hear his surprise over the frantic use of his name, but otherwise he sounded as cool as when he’d last dropped their call. “Why, did something happen on your end?”

“Raleigh made an announcement to his crew down here to go after you.”

His sharp intake of breath was a crack in the facade he seemed to want to maintain, and there was a definite shake to his voice.

“What – what did he say, exactly?”

The fox’s gaze went back and forth between the view through the sub’s window and the litany of buttons in front of her. She had taken a crash course in piloting contraptions like this during her time at the academy, but it was hard to focus when she was worrying about her partner’s safety.

“He said there’s a ‘prowler’ on the ship and that he wanted you delivered to him alive.”

She expected a sound of relief, or maybe his assurance that he’d be fine, but there was only a distressing silence in response to her words.

“…Ringtail?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Did he say anything else?” Sly’s tone implied he was trying very hard not to fall apart over the phone again. “Any other details?”

“Not really? Uh – just that he’d beat his crew if they couldn’t catch you.”

“Fucking figures…” He muttered, making her frown in bemusement, but then continued before she could say something. “Okay. I appreciate the heads up and I can handle a bunch of moronic goons, but that’s not why I called again. I was going to tell you that I think Raleigh is hiding in that storm machine. I’ve been searching this ship up and down and haven’t seen a single webbed foot the whole time.”

The submersible landed gently at the bottom of the submerged hull. Carmelita turned the searchlights on as the raccoon kept talking.

“We should figure out a way to bring the blimp to ground level so we can search it.”

“Already one step ahead of you, Ringtail,” she said, guiding the sub forward slowly if a little unsteadily. “There’s a chain connecting it to the ship. I’m searching for the other end as we speak.”

“Wow. You…have I ever told you that you’re actually amazing?”

The inspector flushed scarlet, nearly dropping her phone in her sudden fluster. “Uh – no, no, you haven’t told me that.”

“Well, you are. I thought I should…let you know that. Just in case you didn’t already know.”

Alongside his endearment, there was…a note, to his words. Something self-conscious, and shy, and – and she stopped herself from thinking about it further because she was supposed to be piloting a very heavy piece of underwater machinery and she did not need the distraction.

“Thank you, Sly,” she answered, hoping to convey all of her gratitude with none of the other thoughts. “And I want you to know that I think you’re amazing, too. In case you didn’t know.”

The silence that followed indicated that either he didn’t know, or he didn’t expect the admission to ever leave her mouth. As Carmelita began searching for a way to break the sudden, unusual awkwardness that was settling between them, the sub spotlights landed on a very familiar chain.

“Oh! I think I found the blimp’s anchor!” The fox exclaimed. Sure enough, she could see the chain looped around a winch that was welded to the metal ground, with a large crank sticking out of its side. All the metal was shiny and polished even in the water, which was a bizarre discrepancy. Why maintain something so far removed from everything else?

Someone as eccentric and paranoid as Raleigh, apparently.

“I’m going to try to bring the blimp down.” The message that she would hang up the phone to do so went unspoken but understood. “I’ll meet you at the front of the ship as soon as I do, because we’re probably not going to have much time to get inside before they catch onto where we are. Sound good?”

“Works for me.” Sly sounded relieved, and she couldn’t blame him. The sooner they got this nightmare over with, the sooner they could leave this forsaken ship and be out of danger. “Just be careful, okay, Carmelita?”

“Of course, Ringtail. Same to you.”

This time, ending the call felt less like a weight in her stomach and more like the temporary goodbye it was meant to be. The inspector turned her attention back to the winch, then started examining what the sub was equipped with. Seeing a control panel for a pincer-like gripping tool was a relief – she had not wanted to entertain the idea of having to physically climb out into deep ocean water just to interact with the contraption at all.

After a little bit of finagling, she learned how to move the claw – for lack of a better term – and began directing it towards the winch…

Only to be stopped completely as something slammed into the submersible.

Carmelita jolted sideways in her seat and swiveled the searchlights to her left, where she came face to face with an orange crab that was almost as big as the machine she was piloting. It stared her down with beady little black eyes on long, reedy eyestalks, but without any clothes, jewelry, or otherwise manmade things on its body, it was impossible to tell if the crab was like her or just an abnormally large, unevolved crustacean.

When it made no attempt to communicate or move towards her again, she turned her craft back towards the crank, reaching out with the sub’s claw – until the crab slammed into her again.

“What the hell?!” She yelled, seeing a flash of orange in the corner of her eye through the window and barely jerking the submarine out of the way before the crab could clamp its gigantic claw around her own. It narrowed its eyes at her, made another grab – which she deftly avoided again – and that was what made her realize that the terrible thing was trying to stop her from touching the winch.

It was guarding it.

“Ohhhh no, you don’t. Not today,” the fox growled as she backed the sub out of the crab’s range before it could swipe at her again.

It scuttled forward after her, both claws reaching out in what was definitely a threatening gesture, but Carmelita refused to be intimidated. Compared to brick-wall bulldogs and zombie hoards, this shellfish security guard was only serving to piss her off. They circled each other, sizing each other up as it kept trying to close the distance and she kept maintaining it.

Through the entire stalemate, her eyes darted all over the control board, looking for something to give her an edge if not an instant win. She didn’t have the experience nor the finesse to wrestle the crab into submission with the submersible’s claw, even though it was her first instinct to try. Instead, she held her patience until she found something she could use, and then continued holding on until she had a real opportunity.

That opportunity came when her enemy darted suddenly towards her, aiming its claw straight for her window. She swept her own pincer sideways in a large arc, and the clang of it striking the crab’s claw was loud even underwater. It sent the shellfish reeling backward, momentarily unbalanced, and the inspector took advantage of the opening.

She slammed her hand down on a large green button, and the machine jolted forward very quickly as its speed boosters jumped to max power. It happened so fast that the crab had no time to move before the submarine slammed into it head-on, propelling it backwards until it hit the metal hull of the ship and crumpled in an unconscious heap.

Carmelita didn’t give herself a moment to celebrate, afraid that the crab would wake up or that their fight had drawn attention from elsewhere. She grabbed the crank and began turning it as fast as she was able, watching the chain shorten around the winch with immense satisfaction. Only when it stopped moving with remarkable resistance did she let go and putter back up towards the surface,

The submersible had barely come out of the water before she was already opening the hatch and scrambling out of the seat. Miraculously, no one had noticed that one of their subs was missing – nor did they notice its reappearance or the outsider climbing out from within it and onto the docks. They were a well-oiled machine of labor, from loyalty to or fear of their leader, and thus the fox was able to slip back the way she’d come through all the way to the stairs.

She spared one last, scathing glance back at the gunboat graveyard and its damning evidence, and vowed to make the Welsh Triangle safe for innocent people again.

And that required putting a pompous, puffed-up polliwog in his proper place.

--------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: I wasn't originally going to rehash Sly's and Carmelita's first phone call in this chapter, but I realized her perspective on it might be interesting enough for it. Hope y'all don't mind.

My favorite thing about writing this one was that I got to combine my least favorite level in Raleigh's section - the crab minigame - with one of my favorite levels in the entire game - Gunboat Graveyard. Crab minigame does its job just fine, it's certainly not the worst one by a long shot, but it still annoys me on replays haha. Gunboat Graveyard is just so atmospheric and I love all the weird unexplained stuff in it (like the glowing jellyfish tank? What even was that?).

Our duo is racing against both the clock and the enemy now. Will Carmelita reach the frog in time to take him down? Will Sly find the still-missing pages of his book? Guess we'll just have to wait and see!

#sly cooper #carmelita fox #fanfiction #the lines we cross

[inspirationallyinsane]

Lingering Desire, Unfounded

A wasp hovers uncertainly Over the body of a beetle. His striped abdomen shaking, Circling, his eyes wide eyes Watching. The beetle is dead. Its color drained, Legs stiff and folded, Wings dried and cracked. It knows not of the wasp. The wasp hovers patiently Above the beetle, waiting Eternally for a move that will Never be made. The wasp does not strike first. His wings tire and he Floats gracefully to the ground, Eyes fixated on the Deceased. His front legs pull At his antennae, desperate, Waiting. The beetle is dead. He knows not of the wasp; And still, the wasp only Lingers.

#poem #poetry #oh boy oh man #I finally did a write #y'all #it happened #I went to the park #and I watched this wasp #and I was thinking like... #what a dummy #ya know?? #The beetle is dead af #I mean like #dead dead right #dead for clearly a long time #but the wasp just hovered around it as if it was still afraid? #Or waiting for something to happen #and then I thought #oh #sometimes #I'm the wasp #and sometimes #I'm the beetle #and unlike the dead beetle #obviously I know of the wasp but still #nothing is going to happen right #ugh #it's beautiful to see humanity in nature

[fernweh-writes]

What would the slashers do if their s/o came home with bees following them, and not attacking them, no no no no, just chilling on/around them. I may or may not have done this as a child and scared the ever loving shit out of my parents :)

Apparently my tanning lotion attracts bees cause they kept harassing me when I used it and I had a terrible time, 0 stars. They kept landing on the bottle and I didn’t know what to do.

-Fern🌿

S/O Hanging out with Bees

Michael Myers

Michael isn’t scared of bugs, but he isn’t exactly a fan of them either. So he’s not exactly thrilled when he finds you sitting on the porch with bees constantly landing around you and buzzing around the place.

At first, he thinks that maybe they have made a nest somewhere on the house and that’s why there’s so many of them. After a quick walk around he finds out that nope, no nest anywhere to be found.

He worries that they’ll sting you but he’s also not going to do anything about it. Maybe staring at you through the window will get you to come inside so he decides to kind of hover from inside the house.

If the bees try to follow you into the house he’s going to lock you out. You’re not bringing the bees inside, he won’t allow it. Have fun on the porch.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is scared of bugs. He puts up a tough guy front like he does with everything else of course, but he is scared of them. Bees, wasps, and hornets are all the same to him. If it flies and can sting you then it’s a bee, plain and simple.

His fear comes from stepping on a yellow jacket nest when he was younger and getting stung repeatedly by them. Any southerner knows that yellow jackets are even worse than wasps when it comes to being aggressive and stinging people, so he definitely didn’t get away safely.

When Bo sees you walking down to the shop with a trail of bees behind you he panics a little bit. The best he can think of on the spot is to hide.

He locks the shop up, turns the radio up loud, and heads down to the basement. You can’t bring the bees in if you can’t get in. Then if you ask questions he can simply say he was busy down stairs and couldn’t hear you over the radio. Boom, problem solved no bees and no angry y/n. He’s a genius.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent spends the majority of his time down in his workshop so it’s most likely a handful of bees followed you down there in an attempt to find an escape from the heat. Not the best idea seeing the workshop is far from being a nice cool place.

He’s not afraid of bugs but that doesn’t mean he has to like them either. As long as they don’t bother him he’s good. But, if they start interfering with his work then he has a problem.

Once they start bothering him, he will usher you out of his workshop. Doing his best to communicate that the bees are a distraction and he needs you to get rid of them.

Don’t look so sad, keeping the bees from bothering him is a very important job and he’s very thankful for it. You can stop by and pay him a visit once you get rid of the bees!

Brahms Heelshire

If you had just listened to him and followed the rules then this wouldn’t have happened! He tells you to stay inside of the manor for a good reason. See what happens when you don’t follow the rules!

Congratulations, now you have to face the consequences of your actions. Brahms doesn’t like bees and isn’t going to let you inside with any of them following you or on you. What if they get inside and make a nest within his walls!

Gets upset because now he can’t be near you. A tantrum is most likely to ensue because you should have just listened to him instead of breaking the rules! Now you can’t take care of him and it’s all your fault!

Thomas Hewitt

He’s mainly just worried that they’re going to sting you! What if you’re allergic to them? Have you ever been stung by one to even know? Thomas can’t have you being killed by a bee!

Doesn’t know how to help you even if he wanted to so hopefully you have the situation under control.

He first notices when he watches you being followed by bees while you work in the garden and he’s taking care of other outside chores. Perhaps it was the flowers and other plants that attracted them, but they were landing on you and you weren’t even freaking out about it or trying to get them away from you. Safe to say, he’s a little freaked out and a lot worried.

Billy Loomis

Pretty boy here absolutely hates bugs. So when you walk towards the house with bees flying around you and a couple on you he’s not exactly thrilled.

At first, he makes you sit outside so that the bees can’t follow you into the house. This leaves you sitting on the porch with your bee buddies who just don’t want to leave. Maybe it was your perfume/cologne that attracted them, but they just would not disappear.

Eventually, Billy gets impatient. He’s wasting precious time he could be spending with you to some bees. You’re his not theirs! Expect to be snatched up and drug into the house whether you like it or not.

Stu Macher

He’s just…very confused. There’s just so many bees hovering around you…And you’re just so calm about them buzzing around your head and landing on you…Why?

Once he gets over the initial shock of it he embraces it. Expect many jokes and horrible puns about being the Queen Bee. Lots of jokes involving you being called honey as well.

When it takes forever for the bees to leave you alone be begins to get annoyed. Swatting at them just stirs them up however and he most likely gets stung. Now you have angry bees and a pouty Stu. Good luck with that one.

Jesse Cromeans

He’s worried about you being stung by bees. Just because he can afford for you to be taken care of doesn’t mean he wants you to get injured in the first place.

Just look at how nice inside is y/n. It’s such a great and relaxing place to be. Much better than the hot and humid outdoors of Florida. Wouldn’t it be great to go into the nice inside without any bees? Jesse sure thinks so!

He will be finding out what perfume you had on that might have attracted the bees and gets rid of it. Jesse doesn’t care of it was expensive, it’s attracting bees so therefore it has got to go.

Asa Emory

This nerd, this absolute dork, gets excited. Why? Because he has an opportunity to easily study some bees that’s why! Sure spiders are his favorite but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like bees. They are still bugs.

Asa is also the most likely to know the exact reason why you’re being followed by bees. So if having a buzzing entourage isn’t exactly your style he know what to do to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Or you can make it happen again if you’re a bee fan.

I like to believe a nickname Asa would use for his s/o is honey/honeybee. This incident would be the perfect source for a cute little nickname slash inside joke for the two of you to laugh about.

#slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu matcher #jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull #chromeskull x reader #asa emory x reader #asa emory #the collector x reader #the collector

[writefightandflightclub]

Texture like sun (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn is your favourite season, whenever he comes around. Autumn vibes and Llewyn snuggles.

Rating: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m still mopping up some requests from soft blurb week. These will come when they come! Think I failed for this one as it’s a) probably too similar to the other Llewyn blurbs I wrote under this theme, and b) it’s not exactly what was requested (sorry Anon!). BUT, by the time I realised both these things it was already written (d’oh!), so you may as well have it, I guess? FYI, if I write Llewyn again I wanna be sure I give you something a bit different, so don’t worry, I have some ideas which will keep things fresh.

Warnings: swearing. cigs. too many metaphors, not enough plot. Zero. Sorry.

Llewyn’s cheeks are flushed with garnets as he crawls in from the cold night, lending an autumnal crimson to his olive skin.

Llewyn.

His gloom black, windswept curls are like a tangle of yarn as he enters headfirst through your window - like a mess of abandoned projects and half-finished scarves it feels good to tangle your fingers into on a cold, autumn evening.

Llewyn.

These days become shorter and his visits grow longer, and, increasingly, you can prevent neither him nor the autumn chill from climbing inside your apartment. You cannot prevent him from climbing inside your soul, filtering through the cracks.

No matter.

Llewyn is your favourite season, and you do not wish to keep him out.

He stands in front of you apologetically as he emerges out of the gloom. You pick-out the shape of his striking hair and beard first, hovering over him; soft and volumous like a dark cloud of curls.

Llewyn.

The chill from the still open window crawls along the floor and finds your bare legs, kissing goosebumps on to your skin as you stand, silhouetted against the amber light of your bedroom. The blare of car horns and sirens and chatter from the bodega downstairs filter up towards you, beats of the city like background music.

“Llewyn!” you say, the name finally falling like from your surprise-parted lips like a stubborn red leaf, the word sharp and vivid as the cold begins to bite at your ankles.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles, his breath a white cloud in front of him. He turns to wrestle the window down in its frame, swearing as his scarf gets jammed. Cursing, as he nips his finger on the second attempt.

“Llewyn,” you say when he turns back to you, his name falling from your lips again. This time it is orange; softer and warming, cushioned by the air between you as it drifts to settle on your floorboards.

Llewyn moves closer. Close enough that the amber light from behind you bathes his face, his eyes despondent and mysterious even as they shine softly. As his eyes meet yours, they brim with gathering clouds and half-written songs. Just like autumn, you never know whether to expect dull grey rain, or a glimpse of pure gold from a low-slung sun. Llewyn is your light when his clouds part.

Your eyes rove gently over his tired, disheveled form as he shrugs off his coat and fingerless gloves, resting them on the arm of your couch.

This time of year reminds you of him.

He is cinnamon and gingerbread and wool and frost.

He is loose leaf tobacco and the metallic twang of guitar strings on a rainy day.

His voice is low, golden light.

His soul is disappearing wisps of cigarette smoke.

He is at once the cold chill and the warm mug of tea beneath your fingers.

He is petrichor and gloom.

At times, he is a cantakerous, angry wasp at the end of its patience.

Llewyn and autumn are one.

Llewyn is your favourite season, though you’re never sure when he will arrive.

You watch him fold his woollen scarf and set it on top of his jacket, inching towards your throw blanket, looking ready to lie down and bundle himself up without another word. But, it has been too long since you held him, and one more word is teetering on your lips, ready to be shed. The same word, but painted a fresh colour. 

“Llewyn,” you say softly, and this time, his name falls golden from your mouth. The word is gilded and aureate, like the final flare of summer, and it resonates in the space between you.

Llewyn is your favourite season, but you’re never sure when he will depart. You want to soak him up, texture like sun, whenever you can.

He looks up at you with cautious eyes, between warmth and cold, glowing and afraid all at once.

Llewyn.

Llewyn.

Llewyn.

His name whips through your head and through your blood like leaves on the wind.

You reach out for his hand, like you did when you walked in the park, sighs crunched beneath your feet when all the trees were giving up. When you both walked together like trembling leaves afraid to fall. Maybe Llewyn will never roar or blaze with love, but maybe, one leaf at a time you will carpet your floor with fire, until everywhere you walk is golden. Until everytime he comes home it is autumn. 

Llewyn’s icy fingers wind around yours, and he does not resist your warmth - he lets himself bask in your ochre and your butterscotch and honey. His eyes light up and they are umber as you lead him to your bed - lead him to where everything is warm.

Llewyn.

He sheds his clothes and his reservations like a tree sheds its leaves. He sheds them one layer at a time, forming a blanket of warm hues of cord and wool on your floorboards.

Llewyn.

You pull him under the fluffy cloud of the blanket and hold him, his body slotting easily in beside you, limbs entwining with yours as you let him slip his cold feet in between your legs to thaw.

His head nuzzles into your chest, the tangled yarn of his hair brushing softly against your chest. His hair smells like the Gaslight and late night diners. Sticky ales and smoke and cinnamon waffles. Perhaps a few half-written songs are hiding in there too.

Llewyn.

You massage your hands through his hair as he reaches out to find your skin, his calloused, well-practised fingers digging into all his favourite spots as though he is playing a familiar song through his touch on your skin. He grips your arm, your back, your thigh like this, until you are humming chords for him, your sounds mellow and yellow in the warmth of this moment.

Llewyn plays your body with his fingers as though he can’t help himself. Whether he realises it or not, there are two times he lets his dark soul glow golden; when holding his guitar and when holding you.

Your hands are not musician’s hands, and yours skim over his back with greater trepidation as you coax this flighty soul to melt into you. Still, while he does not hum or sing for you, you at least feel him thaw beneath your touch. Sometimes, his silence is as golden as his voice, when you know it stems from contentment. When you put everything despondent and cantankerous and forlorn to bed. When you bring Llewyn to your bed.

“Llewyn?” you breathe, and this time when you say his name it is green. Fresh like spring and full of hope.

“Yep?” he responds efficiently, holding you a little tighter when you say his name with such kindness, garnets flushing his cheeks again.

“Don’t crawl out of my window.”

You soothe his hair and try to soothe his gentle, flightly soul along with it, lest he might disappear and take your carpet of leaves with him, gone with an eddying wind and swept out into the open street. Lest he might take all of the colour from your world along with him.

Llewyn.

You don’t want your warmth to leave you to a long, bleak, monochrome winter.

“Angel, it’s cold outside. I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbles sleepily into your chest.

You pull the blanket over both your heads and shimmy down to bury your face in his chest this time, pressing delicate kisses to skin. “Charming, Llewyn. Just a warm body to you, am I?”

“Shit. Fuck. S-sorry,” he says, pulling the blankets down again and re-bathing you in amber light. He looks at you deeply, fragments of unwritten songs and unspoken sentiments filtering across his eyes and being drawn together, knitted into coherency. You can see him beating himself up inwardly, his eyes dark bruises. “I meant...uh...”

“Sshhh, Llewyn,” you interupt softly. Gently.

His words are not ready, and you don’t want him to bare himself before all the leaves are fallen. For now, you will focus on shedding moments and words and feelings to create your carpet of leaves, until you can crunch them all beneath your feet, hand-in-hand.

For now, whilst you are literally bare -leafless- you can settle in for a long rest. Leaves turning in reverse, becoming fresh.

Llewyn.

He is crimson and russet and saffron and moss all at once. He is golden, and he lights up your world, even though he thinks himself dreary.

If only he knew you loved his dreary too.

This is autumn, and Llewyn and autumn are one.

He is your favourite season, and you go to sleep with his name on your tongue, his warmth in your arms, and his song in your heart.

Llewyn.

#llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis #llewyn x reader #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #oscar isaac

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL THE THIRD TASK

Lily sat there, fidgeting in unease before she forced herself to start her chapter, but at least there was the comfort that the last task coming up would be the last of it.

Noticing his wife's hesitation, James gave her the chance to stall for a few moments more as he called to Sirius, "you going to sulk over there all day?" He wanted Sirius in easy smacking distance if he found an excuse to use his name pun again.

Sirius stretched leisurely, eyed his mate for the tone, but then got to his feet and decided it was worth the risk as he flopped back on Harry's side and declared, "Who's sulking? Just because I don't want to sit by your ugly mug all day."

"You've tragically put up with it for years," Remus reminded, "I think you can stand it a little while longer."

Lily actually managed a giggle at the boys picking as she began.

Ron asked if Dumbledore really thought You-Know-Who was getting stronger?

"Why do we keep starting these chapters with Ron recounting stuff?" Lily sighed. "I'd be much happier listening to you all discuss your Charms homework."

"Glad you would," James wrinkled his nose, "I'd rather keep talking about all the ways to get Snape out of that school."

Harry had just finished recounting his Pensieve event to his friends, after first writing it all and sending it to Sirius.

"Finally," Sirius gave a dramatic sniff, "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"How could I ever do such a thing?" Harry demanded back in exasperation, "you keep talking in my ear about how important you are."

"He learns fast," Remus snickered.

  The three had been sitting around ever since exchanging all the knowledge they'd gained this year, and Harry's head finally understood what Dumbledore meant about wanting to siphon a bit off.

"You're fourteen, you shouldn't have to know what that feels like yet," Lily sighed.

"I don't know, I had the most thoughts in my head when I hit that age," Sirius smirked.

Lily kept reading, loudly, before she had to hear any more about that.

Ron was mostly stuck on the fact that Dumbledore trusted Snape, though he'd been confirmed as a Death Eater.

Hermione hadn't spoken for a time while Harry and Ron spoke, her head bent towards her knees as she looked like she could do with a Pensieve as well. Her first words were Rita Skeeter.

James began laughing raucously at once, bright eyes shining as he said, "I'm just so glad Hermione has her priorities in line."

"You ever worry about Hermione becoming a wee bit obsessed?" Remus snickered.

"What, her? No, never," Sirius' tone was going to bleed him out of sarcasm with that one sentence.

Ron demanded how she could be worrying about her?

"Worry is the wrong word," Lily shook her head.

Hermione corrected she was thinking about what Skeeter, and Winky had said about what they knew about Bagman. That Death Eater trial where he'd been accused must be it.

"You guys put that stuff together so much faster," Harry sighed.

"Helps to have more than one genius in the room," Sirius smirked.

"Hey!" Harry yelped.

Ron asked if Fudge really thought Maxime had been the one to get rid of Crouch, and Harry agreed Fudge had said so, while Ron did acknowledge they'd never considered her before, and she did have giant blood and didn't want to admit it.

"Well yes, but that doesn't actually have anything to do with Crouch," James rolled his eyes at Ron trying to put every mundane thing together.

Hermione said she didn't blame her, look at what happened to Hagrid, but that didn't mean she had motive. Hermione would lie as well.

"I'll give her that," Lily nodded fairly, "it's practically suicide in this day and age just to go around saying you're a Muggleborn, but I still don't think that gives you the right to throw other people under the bus to protect yourself."

"We don't know that's what Maxime did," Harry sighed in defense of her.

"True, but we can't think of any other ways Rita's getting these interviews without a first person account," Sirius' scowl didn't lessen one bit.

Then Hermione checked her watch and began scolding them all at once for not having done any practice tonight, they'd have to work extra hard tomorrow on their curses. Then she ordered Harry off to bed.

Harry'd made the joke before, but it really was something to hear his friend try to mother him while his mother read that.

While Harry crawled into bed, his eyes flickered over to Neville in the adjacent one. True to his promise, he had not mentioned that lone part about his parents.

Lily's voice hitched into unrecognizable as she forced that out, her hands trembling slightly along the pages as she couldn't get the image of Alice screaming in pain out of her head.

Harry had often received sympathy for being an orphan, but Harry thought Neville deserved it more for having parents that were alive and didn't even recognize him.

"I really don't think anyone should be deciding who gets more sympathy for what they go through in life," James sighed. "You just happen to be slightly more public, but I can almost guarantee if Neville didn't have his scary grandmother around him outside of school, he'd be getting the same thing." His mind lingered on how well known and liked the Longbottoms were, and even Dumbledore saying how the public had been whipped into a panic of what happened to them. It was just as likely the people in that day knew Neville's name as well as Harry's, though he could believe not the other kids their age.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, he thought of all the people that continued to be harmed by the Death Eaters; the Longbottoms, Crouch's son. It was all Voldemort's doing, his existence that continued ruining all these lives.

"It can help to look at the big picture," Remus sighed in agreement.

Ron and Hermione were supposed to be studying for their exams,

"Almost forgot you got exempt from those," Remus said in surprise.

"I didn't," Sirius rolled his eyes, "it's so far the only good thing that's come of this mess."

which would finish on the day of the third task, but they were putting most of their efforts into helping Harry prepare.

"I really love your friends," Lily smiled sweetly.

"As do I," James agreed, "but I don't know why you bring this up now. I'd do anything to stop studying for exams, helping out my friend is just a bonus."

When Harry tried to convince them of this, Hermione just brushed him off, saying this was just extra studying for their DADA class.

Sirius mock gasped in outrage, "how dare Hermione equate practicing useful spells to learning in a classroom, I'm shamed for her."

"I'll pass the message along," Harry chuckled.

Ron agreed this was all good training for when they all became Aurors, while managing to Impediment a wasp buzzing around.

They were all genuinely impressed at that skill, not just anyone could hit a moving target small as a bug.

"I'm believing that more and more as this goes on," James chuckled as he looked to Harry. "You really think you go on to do that?" He emphasized the word think so as not to upset Harry.

He mulled it over for a bit, but only gave a small smile for an answer while saying, "I can see it, but I don't know if that's just me at fourteen still seeing it."

"So how many Auror noses have you seen to change your opinion?" Remus smirked.

Harry chuckled lightly at the joke again, though he did somehow wonder if he ever did meet other Aurors besides Mad-Eye?

The mood in the castle couldn't be more excited as everyone was looking forward to the last task a week before school ended.

Despite the nerves coloring her tone, there was also some palpable relief mixed in. Finally the last task, this really should be the end of their big worries the rest of this year. It didn't matter how stupid it was to be afraid of these things looking at her full grown boy, those tasks were a nightmare.

Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment.

"On who exactly?" James asked innocently. "Just so we can keep track is all."

"Harry doesn't go around doing that like some people," Lily snapped at him before Harry could respond.

James rolled his eyes, but Harry blinked at the pair in surprise. It was foolish to think James hadn't cursed Snape at some point with all the animosity they'd been throwing around, and yes they'd admitted several times now to pranks, a few of which had some bad results, but just how often did his dad go around cursing people for the fun of it? It sounded more like something Malfoy would do for kicks? He'd really always put his mother's comments like that down to her exasperation, but the more she said it, the more sure he was she wasn't really exaggerating.

He was walking into this third task more confident than he ever had for the others as he realized Moody was right, he had faced barriers and enchantments like this before, and he'd even had time to prepare for these.

Harry was immediately distracted by wanting to laugh at his younger self for being an idiot. Something about this task was going to go horribly wrong, he'd been thinking that from day one of rehearing about this, and he still had no clue what.

McGonagall had quickly grown tired of walking in on the three practicing in empty classrooms, and so had allowed them to be using hers while she wasn't.

"Sounds like McGonagall," Sirius nodded along. "Tries to hide her act of helpfulness by saying it annoyed her otherwise."

Harry had quickly mastered a plethora of useful Curses, as well as a handy find called the Four-Point spell, which pointed him north and would help him find his way along in the maze. Now all he was struggling with was his Shield Charm.

"That's a common tricky one," Remus agreed, "instead of one burst of energy to blast a spell, you're expected to hold it up and linger on the magic, very hard for people to learn to adapt to."

He was still stumbling around after Hermione's Jelly-Legs Jinx got through his.

"Now see, wouldn't wiggling ears be better than that," James smirked.

Ron was hovering by the window going over some new lists of spells, and called them over to have a look at Malfoy.

"Nothing good," all the boys muttered at once.

They peaked down and saw Malfoy and his usual cronies all huddled under a tree, Crabbe and Goyle apparently keeping watch and smirking.

"Definitely not good," Sirius corrected.

Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.

Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, for some reason he was convinced now more than ever Malfoy was talking to an electronic bug, no matter how impossible Hermione said it could be, but why now though? What could Malfoy be doing down there?

Harry guessed he was using a walkie-talkie from the looks of it.

"What's that?" James asked eagerly.

"You talk into one end, and you can hear someone on the other end," Remus shrugged, "good for long distance type things, but they do have a range shorter than a telephone."

"That sounds brilliant," at once his eyes gleamed, and they could all guess what he was immediately thinking before he said it. "Wish we had those at school, would have come in real handy."

"Sadly, as I'm sure Hermione's fixing to remind, it wouldn't have done us any good," Sirius sighed.

Hermione again repeated how those wouldn't work here, and then told Harry he had to get back to work on that Shield Charm.

"But we were actually having fun spying on Malfoy instead of vice versa for a change," Sirius sighed.

Sirius was sending daily owls now.

"I am biting my tongue not to make a mother hen joke at you right now," Remus snickered.

Sirius sighed and grumbled a bit, but knew he would have taken it in stride if anyone had, he both deserved it, and thought he was in the right to be doing so as well as everyone else. Even Harry couldn't be too annoyed at his paranoid Godfather, the constant mail and worry was the most support and worry he'd ever got in his life.

They were all filled with warnings to concentrate on getting out of this task and leave everything else for afterwards because it wasn't his responsibility or in his power to do anything for now.

"I don't really think that part was necessary though," James had a fixed smile in place as he really wanted to snap at Sirius for overstepping his bounds, and then having to remind himself Sirius was the only one there setting those bounds. "He's not like you, he doesn't think the outside world revolves around him as much as that castle."

Sirius laughed because he knew he was supposed to, but no one could miss the catch of annoyance in James' voice. To be honest it was the first time Harry noticed it though, and he felt like an idiot it had taken him this long to realize his dad might be jealous of Sirius doing all this. He wasn't really sure what to say though, it felt like an empty promise to tell someone they couldn't be replaced when he'd never met him before, while it would also be downplaying how much he really was touched at everything Sirius did for him.

Sirius promised that after this was all over, they could put their attention on other matters.

"What other matters?" Remus couldn't help but ask even if it didn't help the odd lingering silence in the room. "What exactly do you plan to do with him once this task is over, take him Voldemort hunting?"

"Nah," Sirius waved him off, "more like take him into the forest and give him some survival skills, that seems like much more fun."

"The worst part is, I can't decide if either of you are kidding," Lily muttered as she decided to ignore them both.

Harry was starting to grow uneasy the closer the date began, but it wasn't nearly so bad as the previous two. At least this one he'd done everything possible to be prepared for.

"To be fair, I still don't see how you could have been 'prepared' for the first task. You weren't given anything to work with," James pointed out to sketch out his own feelings.

"Least with this one I wasn't having crazy time jump skips," Harry shrugged, "it finally felt, I don't know, final."

There was something about the way he said that that gave them all a deep chill that even Harry didn't seem aware, he had a faraway look in his eyes when he finished.

The best part was, this was the final one. Good or bad, after this it would all be over.

"There's the bright side," Lily said with forced chipper that didn't seem to get through to anyone, not even herself.

Breakfast of the morning gave Harry a special treat, Sirius had sent him an extra good luck note. It was only a muddy paw print on a page, but Harry smiled as he tucked it away.

Sirius covered the happy feeling that gave him with a snort of mirth, telling Harry, "always good to know what you appreciate, just let me nip out into the rain right quick and I'll be back with a whole room full of mud."

"You'll do no such thing," Lily said at once without looking up, "I haven't forgiven you for singing my rug yet."

Sirius blanched and sat very far back in his seat, dang, she had noticed.

An owl arrived with Hermione's Daily Prophet, and while she began unfolding it and taking a sip of her drink, she quickly spat that in surprise.

"That's an encouraging start!" Remus went bug eyed at once, all of them feeling like jumping out of their seat at once in panic.

Both boys tried to ask what was going on even as she tried to tuck it away,

"Exactly how believable does she think that is?" James demanded faintly.

but Ron was quicker and took it away. His first words were to call someone a cow.

Harry at once guessed Skeeter, while Ron tried for a no more effective plan of putting the paper out of Harry's sights.

Sirius actually did laugh, Harry really had the best friends who were far more alike than they ever would have admitted aloud, both thinking that would work.

Harry was in no way surprised as he guessed it was about him, while both answered no in the same unconvincing tone.

"Should we be worried they're compulsive liars?" Remus rolled his eyes, still forcing himself to remain in his seat rather than trying to take a peek over Lily's shoulder already and find out what this was.

Harry hadn't a chance to argue anymore as Malfoy called from the Slytherin table about how Harry was going to go berserk on them any moment.

"Err," Harry muttered in surprise. Malfoy had used a lot of lame insults on him, but that had certainly come out of nowhere.

"Oh just tell your friends to give you the paper already," Lily scowled hatefully, "might as well get it over with."

"It's not like he can avoid it," James regretfully agreed.

Malfoy had his own copy of the paper in his hands, and all along the table Slytherins were laughing and pointing at their heads and casting Harry looks.

"To be fair, the whole hall was actually looking at me that way," Harry grumbled, "Malfoy just somehow has this way of spotlighting his table."

Lily gave him a small smile for that, happy to see he really didn't just single out that house.

Ron finally handed over the paper and Harry read the headline 'Potter Disturbed and Dangerous'

Lily could already tell someone was wanting to interrupt her with a splurge of anger, but though red faced and furious herself at just the start, she forced out.

Rita Skeeter began her report by stating their Boy Who Lived could possibly be unstable.

"Gets right to the bleeding point with this one," Remus said through gritted teeth.

Evidence had begun appearing about Potter's strange behavior, casting doubts on his suitability to compete in the Triwizard Tournament,

"No one was arguing he shouldn't be in the Tournament!" Sirius blasted.

"Though for completely different reasons than this," Harry shook his head in disgust.

or even to attend Hogwarts.

"Oi!" Harry shouted indignantly at once at that one. Taking digs at him was one thing, but to say he shouldn't even be allowed at his favorite place on earth!

There were reports of him regularly collapsing at school and complaints of head pain resonating from his scar, an old relic of You-Know-Who's attempts on Harry's life.

"Someone in your Divination class really went and told about this?" Sirius barked in disgust.

"But, they're all, well I mean, not one of those kids should have a reason to," James's face was coloring with hurt for his son.

"Well someone blabbed," Lily spat.

Monday Potter had even been unable to complete one of his Divination lessons, the reporter had witnessed him storming out.

"Witnessed?" They all parroted.

"She can't mean that one, it must be an exaggerated detail," Remus said at once. "There's no way she's following you around the school, even if she was using an Invisibility Cloak, someone should have caught her, or something."

"Maybe she's just not doing it anywhere near Moody's class," James offered without hope, as Sirius immediately pointed out the very flaw he'd been thinking in that.

"It still doesn't explain some of her earlier times, like Hermione and Krum, where Moody confirmed Skeeter wasn't anywhere around. She must be using the same method to hear all of this, how many tools can she have?"

"I guess, Remus is right," Lily sounded far too regretful to be saying that in Remus' opinion, "she must have made that detail up to give credibility."

"Or hide her source," Sirius scowled, still thinking an eyewitness to this was the most likely.

Harry chose not to confirm, or deny any of this for fear of the pain it would cause, but he couldn't deny even to himself how sure he was they were wrong, Skeeter had been there...

Skeeter had even interviewed some Medics from St. Mungo's, who had offered another suggestion that the original attack may just be causing some delusions of pain.

Lily was spluttering in shock and hatred before she could even get that all out.

"How the bloody hell would anyone know that!" Remus snarled. "Dumbledore doesn't even know what's going on with Harry's scar, who are they to say what could be affecting him?"

"With any luck it's more of Skeeter making everything up to fit her story," Harry sighed to try and curb them all just a bit, he was still far more distracted with the upcoming task to really bring himself to care about whatever Skeeter said about him.

One even agreed he could be pretending all of this for attention.

James snarled in outrage for that one! Harry hadn't had any say in this article being posted, had hardly mentioned to any more than four people of this pain, who was anyone to call his son that!

Harry did feel an echo of that being said to him before though, and wondered just how popular this article became, how many people believed he'd become attention seeking? Why would they!

The Daily Prophet had found even more facts to be released to the public that Albus Dumbledore never had.

"Because it's private information!" Sirius howled in outrage, already more than sick of watching this ruin his friend's life, now his little pup was next. "Where does this woman get off putting anything about Harry's life without his say so?"

"I think the Muggles have some laws against that," Lily seethed, "and I really want to start looking into it. Normally we have spells that detect when lies are being told about someone on print, and then you have to sign something saying it's not being used for educational purposes if that happens to your work. Clearly the Daily Prophet does not endorse that, and new laws need to be put in place so they do."

"Lockhart found a way around those," Remus reminded, "if he can, I'd believe anyone can."

"I will fund that project," James vowed.

Draco Malfoy had confirmed Potter spoke Parseltongue,

"I'm honestly surprised he's waited so long to tell the press," Harry sighed. "As much as he likes to brag of his father's connections."

"Guess it didn't occur to him until this year how much fun it could be," James thought his face was going to get stuck in that scowl and he still couldn't change it.

Remus was frowning in confusion though, thinking there was no way it was a coincidence Malfoy had been spotted doing something certainly not good, and only a few days later this was coming up. What on earth had Malfoy been doing that day that connected to Skeeter now knowing this?

and there had been a lot of attacks in their second year that all seemed to revolve around Potter who was known for easily losing his temper. It was all hushed up, but this had all come from the same guy who was friends with a giant and a werewolf.

Remus felt himself flush as that really registered. It had never occurred to him what his even talking to Harry could do to him publicly. Not that Harry had ever showed he cared about that, but it certainly wasn't comforting when Remus realized he seemed to have done Harry far more harm than good his one year there, his one lone helpful bit was something that any competent teacher could have taught him after all- "ouch! Merlin's shit Sirius, that hurt!"

Sirius said nothing back, his face absolutely clear saying he'd do worse if Remus started a guilt trip for this, he didn't even tuck his wand away as Lily uneasily kept going.

The article briefly explains what Parseltongue is, and how it was known for only being done by those of Dark Arts.

Harry sighed as he remembered back to even how his family had looked at him when they'd first found out about this, and had no delusions there wasn't a person left on earth who now wouldn't consider him some freak.

"I think it's cool," his dad surprised him by saying with a sniffy voice. "No matter how he got it, I'll give him credit for something unique. People are just jealous."

"I'm so sure that's it," Sirius snickered on his other side, "in fact, you'd think Harry would get some thanks for this, he could start his own service. Any time you have a snake problem, just call Harry, he'll come over and talk the snake out of the house."

James was trying to hide his laughter in his hand, while Lily was forcing herself to keep going around these boys' antics.

A member of the Dark Force Defense League had been quoted saying how he found anyone with the ability untrustworthy and needing to be investigated.

"Investigated of what?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No clue," James rolled his eyes, "but I trust it's nothing good."

"I can't wait until the next article now," Sirius deadpanned. "She's gone from putting you in three different lights now, you think she'll switch back around to one, or try another new angle?"

"Here's hoping Hermione catches her before we have to find out," Lily huffed.

The quote continued by saying that anyone who associated with such Dark creatures as giants and werewolves would be more than likely to have a fondness for violence and this shouldn't surprise anyone.

Sirius still had his wand held threateningly in his hand, as he kept his eye on their werewolf, he'd do it again if he caught Moony thinking like that, idiot that he was.

Remus for his part was grumbling in annoyance and still rubbing his knee where the stinging hex had hit, but at least grateful he hadn't gotten a whole mouthful speech accompanied by James, yet.

Dumbledore should be considering whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.

"If I actually get kicked out of the Tournament because of her, I think I'll thank her," Harry shook his head.

"I think I'd be just a tad annoyed," James said without a trace of meaning it. "You've come so far, may as well get your last kicks in."

"Wasn't it my suggestion Harry should act like a lunatic to get thrown out in the first place," Sirius said with an obvious look at Remus, waiting to be corrected. "Where's my thanks if that happens to be true."

It was not forthcoming as Remus was now glaring at the fire and obviously trying to ignore them, so Harry filled the awkward silence. "I'll send you a letter."

The public should be fearing Potter using his Dark Arts to even win such a prize on this very night.

"She did a really bad job of posting this so late," Lily sniffed, "if her goal was to get you booted out of the Tournament, they couldn't have pulled it off in time anyways."

"Well darn," James snapped his fingers, "next time she writes something about Harry, I'll make sure it gets forwarded."

Harry was at least laughing slightly at them all playing this off.

Harry was not impressed as he folded the paper and handed it back to Hermione.

"What an underwhelming reaction," Sirius shook his head at him. "I'm sure Ron and Hermione were disappointed, did they expect you to go off the rails when you saw that?"

Harry shrugged and laughed at the idea, wondering for a moment why he had a spot of guilt at yelling at his friends about anything?

At the Slytherin table, Malfoy and his friends were still busy making faces at him and wagging their tongues like snakes.

"I'd imagine they look stupider than they're trying to make Harry look," Lily snapped at the idiots.

Ron was scanning through the article more carefully now, asking aloud how she'd known about his Divination moment.

Harry reminded he'd opened the window, maybe she'd heard it from the grounds.

"There's no way she heard you from the top of the North Tower," Remus disagreed, finally stopping his glaring at Sirius, and probably not even going to get him back for it later.

Hermione disagreed that still shouldn't have made it possible, while Harry asked if she had any updates on this magical bugging thing she had to be doing.

Hermione's face went slack in a dreamy expression.

"Err," the boys muttered, partly in concern, and partly in confusion of what had struck Hermione with that line.

The two watched as she first ran her fingers through her hair, and then brought her hand up to her mouth and muttering into her palm.

The only thing they could work out from that was Lily's muttered, "so, did she figure out what's going on?"

"I have no idea how those two things are supposed to be put together," James huffed, wondering when the surprise would wear off Hermione seemed to know a lot more than them.

The boys exchanged a look as Hermione muttered off into space about how this would be perfect, even Moody wouldn't spot it, and she could have been at all of these places.

"How on earth did that fourteen year old tie all this in together," Sirius threw his hands up in frustration.

"Must be magic we haven't seen yet," Remus scowled in frustration, "we've already seen that at least a few times, you know it's always adapting and new spells are invented every few years. That's the only thing I can think of, Skeeter's doing something we've never heard of."

Somewhere deep inside, Harry wanted to laugh at the idea of the Marauders saying this, but aloud he agreed it was just frustrating Hermione never shared what she was thinking.

Hermione yelped about going to the library to confirm something and then darted off.

"What on earth has that library ever done to her, to possess her like this," James groaned.

"She wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't check her work," Harry shrugged.

Ron called to her retreating back they had a History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Then he turned to Harry in shock, saying how much their friend had to hate her to possibly risk missing the start of an exam.

"It's good to see Hermione's finally sorted out her priorities," Sirius smiled for that one.

Then he asked if Harry was going to spend the test reading?

"I think I just felt my heart break," James declared as he eyed his boy. "Reading, during class, what has come over you?"

"I've nothing else to do," he smirked and shrugged at the same time. "Can't even doodle with Ron since he's the one who's busy, and I got caught last time for trying to practice spells. I'd go crazy if I just had to sit there staring at the ceiling."

"Oh yes, fine," James muttered.

Harry had spent all previous exams doing this, looking up more spells to practice for his third task, and Harry agreed he was most likely going to do so this time until McGonagall approached him.

"Has that ever been a good thing?" Lily groaned.

"Not that I can recall," Remus sighed.

She told him the champions were all meeting in the adjacent chamber after breakfast.

"Why!" Harry practically screeched, wondering if he'd somehow gotten the time stamps wrong.

"Relax, I'm sure you'll ask her then," Lily soothed, not denying one bit she was biting at her lip in worry as well as their semi joke still stood.

Harry began panicking at once, saying the task wasn't going to start until tonight!

McGonagall agreed she was aware,

"She gets so crispy about things being pointed out to her," Sirius couldn't help but utter with an old smirk.

this had to do with the champion's families coming to visit, and they'd be staying to watch the final.

"Err no, actually I didn't know," Harry admitted, wondering if anyone had mentioned this before and he hadn't been paying attention.

He wasn't too surprised when no one around him looked particularly enthused at this kind of declaration, they were all thinking the same as him, it's not like Sirius was going to be there.

She left then, Harry gaping in surprise that she actually thought the Dursleys would make an appearance.

"Somewhere in there is a really good question about whether Muggles would be allowed to attend this," Remus sneered.

"My best guess is still a not," Lily snarled. The only thing she'd ever even heard of coming close to this was a mention of Moaning Myrtle's parents coming up to school, and even then they'd never gotten confirmation of whether the girl was Muggleborn and this would be a problem, and if it was if they would have met outside the school premises...and all of this had nothing to do with the fact that the Dursleys would sooner make an appearance than hug Hagrid.

Ron gave a shrug, but then had to excuse himself to go off to his test.

Harry finished his breakfast slowly as the rest of the Hall emptied as well. He watched his fellow Champions making their way to that door behind the staff table, but Harry wasn't even going to bother poking his head in. He had no family-

Lily's voice gained a terrible hitch, but she forced herself to read past that moment and pretend like it never happened. Her Hare Bare was here with her now, he had all the family he could ever want, and damn these books for saying otherwise.

at least none who would turn up to see him risk his life.

Remus was twisting the sleeve of his robes down so hard, a few loose strings were appearing, that didn't change how bad this hurt. It had only just occurred to him, but he'd never even sent Harry a concerned note about him being in the Tournament. He'd had a million opportunities since his departure, and had never once reached out to try and be any part of Harry's life. There was a better chance of the Dursley's making an appearance than him by this point.

As Harry was finally leaving, thoughts of going to the library himself to do some hex research,

"That's what I always want to do whenever I think of those Muggles," Sirius snapped.

the door opened and Cedric told Harry to hurry up, they were waiting on him.

"They?" everyone repeated in shock, their mind floundering to come up with any good explanations for who this could be, and just as equally hurt that it was so confusing anyone would show up.

Utterly perplexed, Harry changed directions. The Dursleys couldn't possibly be here, could they?

James struggled hard to get the words out, "did you want them to be?"

Harry sat there for a long time in silence, his mind suddenly back to three years old and trying to ask his Aunt Petunia why they never said they loved him like they did to Dudley all the time, and only getting the same response he ever did, 'don't ask questions.' He knew for a long time in his childhood some part of him had wanted to understand why he'd never been cared for, and then he'd gotten his answer, so he responded with clear sincerity, "sure, would finally be able to curse them and not get in trouble."

The honestly unexpected joke caused them all to crack up laughing, hard. Harry making light of this was a blow none of them could gloss over, it would never not incite murder in all of them at the mention of those useless beings, but at least the bright smile he got for making them laugh felt worth it.

Inside was Krum talking to a dark haired man who Krum held similar features with, and a woman, all three speaking Bulgarian. Fleur was off to one side jabbering in French with a beautiful woman who had to be her mother, and Gabrielle.

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth. Remarkably thought about it for a moment, then decided screw it and really did ask, "How exactly is she part veela? I mean, I've never even heard of how Veela reproduce, they're an all female species, so are they asexual unless they sleep with a wizard or?" He watched the others dumbfounded faces for a moment, before cracking a smile and saying, "what, don't tell me you haven't been wondering the same thing. Now I'm realizing, with her dad not being there, well-"

"Please stop," Lily practically begged. "One, it's none of your business Sirius, and two, we've no idea."

She actually paused like she expected, almost hopefully, someone to correct her, because she wasn't pretending to deny it was a good question.

Remus thought about it for a moment, stating, "The only facts I can offer is if you take a hair from a veela's head, they're said to die, but I somehow don't see Fleur speaking of her grandmother like that if she'd been killed, so most likely the veela pulled it out herself as a gift."

"That was not helpful, about anything," James pointed out.

Mrs. Weasley and Bill were standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him.

Lily felt her voice tying off, equal amounts of annoyance and even hurt rearing up at Molly making an appearance for her baby after all the embarrassment and even idiotic ways she'd acted towards both him and Hermione this year, all while also just a warm flood of gratitude there was still someone out there looking out for Harry.

Her reaction was subtle to Harry's, who flushed in shock and began stammering something even he wasn't quite sure of. An apology to those around him, gratitude being the most dominant thing to him for even though he'd never said it aloud, throughout his years he'd pictured the Weasley's the closest thing he'd ever have to a family, he'd never realized they'd felt the same!

"How would they even have known to come?" James's voice sounded odd, but he genuinely seemed to be trying more for curiosity than what he knew his wife was feeling. "I mean, if the notice they could appear at the final task went out to families?"

"Maybe Dumbledore personally sent it?" Sirius tried, "I've no doubt he knows Harry spends the majority of his time at the Weasley's over the holidays, so kind of as a courtesy thing?"

"All that tells me," Remus was trying hard not to frown, "was that Dumbledore must have a good idea of Harry's feelings for the Dursleys though." His voice came out too sharp, he was still more frustrated with himself for being right about not being there than anything.

They all felt a lot of different things about this moment, but one look at Harry and suddenly they were almost at peace with it as well. This had to be the first time they'd seen that kind of smile on his face this whole time, the only moment that had come close was when his real relation to Sirius had been revealed, and that had been pretty muted compared to the following events. So Lily bit off the head of how she was really feeling about this, put it away in a corner for later, and managed to keep going with a true smile.

Mrs. Weasley shouted surprise at him.

"Understatement," Sirius muttered.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek as she explained they'd come to watch, while Bill asked how he was doing?

"Eh," James sighed, waving his hand vaguely, though Harry thought that was more to do with his actual answer than answering for Harry.

Charlie had told them all about that Horntail and how incredible he was.

"Charlie's the lucky one," Remus muttered under his breath, thinking so far no task had really gone well enough for any spectators to exactly be 'enjoying' these events, but that was probably just his personal opinion. He could only imagine picturing this through someone other than Harry, and it could sound like a bit more fun.

Fleur was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder.

Harry tried very hard to forcefully smother laughter for no real reason he could tell.

She clearly had no objection to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.

"A lot of girls don't," Sirius' grin flipped to saucy at once, "I considered getting one myself, though of course now I'd just be accused of doing it because of Bill."

"Yes Sirius," James said back deadpan, "every woman you meet will think the kid who's more like my babies age absolutely pulled this look first."

Sirius' smile actually brightened all the more.

Harry was thanking them both, muttering his surprise that for an actual moment he'd thought the Dursleys-

Mrs. Weasley cut him off by pursing her lips tight. She'd never said anything about them to Harry, but he always saw her eyes flash when they were mentioned.

"Remind me, how did she take the news of starving and bars?" Lily muttered, but there was no real ill will in there. She knew now like she had then she didn't blame Molly for this in the first place, Harry refused to say much of anything on them really, so Molly had slowly been drawing her own conclusions after that event. If it was even a portion of what she'd conjured up in believing Skeeter's stories about Harry and Hermione, Molly was still only hitting the tip of the iceberg when it came to the Dursleys.

Bill didn't seem to notice, as he began talking about how great it was to be back at the castle, he hadn't been here for five years.

"Wow so he's actually, eleven, now. Give or take a birthday, it's really hard to picture." Sirius said mostly to himself.

"I'm sure a lot of this'll be hard to picture if we ever get out of here," Remus rolled his eyes as just a few instances came to mind.

He asked about the Fat Lady still being Gryffindor's portrait, and Mrs. Weasley said she'd even been here in her time.

"I was under the impression she's always been the Gryffindor portrait," James agreed.

She used to give such telling offs when her and Arthur returned late-

Bill cut his mother off in surprise, asking what she was doing out of bed after hours?

"Well why'd he go cutting her off for!" Sirius yelped in protest. "That could have been some amazing fodder to use against his mother, especially if he passed it along to the twins next time she went off on them!"

"I don't even blame Bill," James shook his head, "remember when my dad tried to tell us about that time he turned McGonagall into a Pekingese. The idea just messed with my mind so much, I didn't want the material."

Sirius nodded in agreement.

Mrs. Weasley just grinned at her eldest, admitting she'd had a few late nights with her husband.

"I can't believe she's answering," Remus already looked traumatized, he got enough stories from Sirius that started like that to predict results.

"She is talking to her kids," Lily's cheeks were starting to tinge a little pink, and Harry no more wanted to know what she was thinking than whatever Mrs. Weasley was going to supply, "I'm sure it won't be explicit."

Arthur had been caught out, and he still had the marks Pringle had given him, that was the caretaker in their day.

"The bloody hell did Pringle do?" Sirius yelped in concern, it was really something when someone made Filch look like a kindness.

"I'm guessing rules were a bit more lax then," James said with honest pity. Arthur seemed like such a nice guy, he didn't want to imagine what had been done.

Bill changed topics by asking Harry for a tour, which he readily agreed to. They passed Amos Diggory and his wife on the way out, Amos stopping Harry.

"Oh not this again," Remus groaned.

"Harry's been neck and neck with him every step of the way," James's smile wasn't at all pleasant, "so he can't even say anything to you this time."

"I'm sure he'll still try to come up with something," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Asking if Harry felt as full of himself now that Cedric and him were tied?

"When's Harry ever been full of himself?" Lily snapped of no one. "If anything, he's the opposite."

Harry chose not to answer, half proving Lily's point.

Harry asked what he meant, and Cedric told him to ignore his father.

"I've been trying," Sirius scowled, "yet somehow I've had to hear him anyways."

"It's much more effective in person when you can either plug your ears or Silencio them," James agreed.

Explaining that he'd been sore about this since that first article when Skeeter had made it seem Harry was the only Hogwarts champion.

That did admittedly put them stumped for a moment, it was a valid point on Amos' part and would have infuriated anybody, but that still wasn't any reason to take it out on Harry!

Amos was being his usual boastful self as he slapped his son on the back, praising him for being so humble he hadn't corrected the papers, and how he had no doubts Cedric would win this thing! He'd beaten Harry once before.

Mrs. Weasley snapped at him that Skeeter was known for causing trouble,

"Well that was rich," Lily sniffed.

"Yet true," Harry also defended uneasily before he stopped to consider. Harry wasn't even sure why he should feel bad about correcting his Mum regarding Mrs. Weasley, but in any case, the only reaction Lily gave was a soft hum before she kept going.

and he should know better.

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry,

Harry looked ready to say something nasty right back, he knew he would not take kindly to anyone saying a bad word about Mrs. Weasley after what she'd done for him today!

but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he instead turned away.

Then Harry realized that all thought of mothers was slowly starting to be erased from his mind, and instead a thick black pain was starting to trace every inch inside him. Something so bad he didn't even want to consider what it could mean, but it involved the Diggory's...

Harry had a fun filled morning as he strolled the grounds with the Weasley's, who greatly admired the carriage and ship. Mrs. Weasley was personally fascinated by the Whomping Willow

"Should have been torn up long before now," Remus muttered to himself.

and regaled them about the old gamekeeper Ogg.

"Well that's actually fascinating," Sirius said honestly, though it was hard to picture the grounds without the Willow.

"He's most likely the one who trained Hagrid," James agreed, "so I'd kind of like to hear about him just for that."

Harry asked how Percy was doing.

"Harry!" Sirius groaned, "we said we wanted to hear about old gamekeepers, what are you doing changing the subject?"

"I can tell you a few things Mrs. Weasley told me later about Ogg," Harry chuckled at their grumbling even while Lily ignored them.

Bill's first response was to say, not well.

That did catch their attention though. They may not like Percy much, but they didn't want to hear about anything bad happening to him.

He was in trouble at work for not realizing sooner something must be up with Crouch, and should have reported the instructions he'd been receiving and was now being questioned about it all.

"Uh oh," Remus muttered.

"Actually I'm really not sure what to think of that," Sirius ran his hand through his hair in thought. "Crouch was acting like a loon, I honestly think that had to be a progression over time, but really we haven't given this much thought. He's been acting odd for months now, but Percy was insisting he was just hunky dory."

"I think we can put that down to faulty information on Percy's part," James frowned, "for all we know, Crouch really has been acting worse and worse, but Percy was pretending otherwise."

They still had a lot more questions about what was really going on with Crouch, but studying Percy would help no one.

Percy was under a lot of stress and not being allowed to continue Crouch's job, not even as judge tonight.

"So who's going to?" Remus began to ask almost exactly as Lily finished.

Fudge would be instead.

"See, this is what your questions get you," Sirius laughed at Remus' eye roll.

No one yet noticed Harry starting to lose a drop of color at every word spoken closer to the start of this task, now with Fudge there... he was really starting to look terrible.

They went back inside for lunch, where they were joined by the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley asked Ron how his exam had gone, and he admitted he'd made up about half of it, but all the names were something like Urg the Unclean.

"I am fairly confident that's an actual name," Lily giggled.

"Boys quite brave himself to be admitting this to his mum," Remus agreed.

Halfway through the meal Harry remembered Hermione's sudden Skeeter inspiration,

"I haven't forgotten," Lily murmured eagerly, she'd love Hermione to say this in front of Molly in particular, if just a slight payback for that Easter egg.

but before he could ask Hermione shook her head and looked pointedly at Molly.

"Why wouldn't you tell in front of her?" Sirius pouted at once, they'd waited in suspension long enough for this treat, they wanted Skeeter to fall already, and if they knew anything about Hermione by now, they were sure she was at least onto something!

Harry seemed to have drawn Mrs. Weasley's attention onto Hermione though, and Molly greeted her very stiffly.

They all gave a grumpy little huff for that, how could she stand up to Diggory one moment and then be like this the next?

Hermione gave a friendly enough smile back, which was not returned.

Harry at once told her that Skeeter's story had been ridiculous, Hermione was not and had never been his girlfriend.

Sirius actually began applauding Harry, stating, "Look who can take a hint?"

Harry smacked his hands to get him to stop, but then Remus just kept going with that same smirk in place. "Well he's right, it's really saying something of you for stepping up and saying that, I can think of others who wouldn't have picked up on it."

Harry wasn't sure if he meant his own friends or Ron, but Harry still wanted to ignore the look he was getting so was more than grateful when Lily kept going hopefully.

Mrs. Weasley at once said she'd known that, but from then on she treated Hermione perfectly normal and polite.

No one could deny they were pleased, but it was still rather grating all the same as she hadn't even apologized.

Up at the staff table, all the judges seemed to be having a good enough time, except Fudge who was sitting right next to Maxime.

"Can't pretend to be disappointed," James curled his lip, thinking Fudge deserved it, the arrogant prick.

Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Harry thought her eyes looked red.

"Should I be worried?" Remus said, and he actually did look it.

"Nah," Sirius tried to wave him off, "I'm sure she's had another lovers spat with Hagrid, and hopefully the big guy won again and he'll be along to dinner shortly." Even he didn't sound as confident as he wanted to, no one really wanted to think about Fudge actually trying to do something against Maxime for the wrong reasons.

Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

Sirius would have looked far more superior about being right if he wasn't just as relieved as everyone else.

There were more courses than usual but Harry, who was starting to feel really nervous now, didn't eat much.

"You'd think they'd take a hint," James muttered, thinking back to this time before the stupid tournament had even started and their own comments about how a feast should be held when there was a winner, not stress for all involved.

When the ceiling above finally began ebbing into dusk, Dumbledore rose to his feet, and silence fell at once.

Lily had to swallow very hard around a dry throat and even took a sip of water before she could force herself to continue, her only advantage being that finally this was the last one.

Harry had gone exceptionally quiet, only marginally playing along with the boys like usual, and the longer this carried on and the more sickly he kept looking, the harder it was to convince themselves that this should be an easy task.

He announced the third task would be starting in five minutes, and asked the contestants to go down now with Bagman.

Harry was wished luck on all sides as he joined the others, Bagman catching up to him at once and asking how he was feeling?

"Least this'll be the last time he asks you that," James muttered to himself.

Harry told he was alright, and for once it was the truth. He kept running down the list in his mind of all the spells he'd learned for this, and pleased he remembered every one.

"This has got to be worse than any pre-exam jitters," Remus agreed, though just as impressed that Harry had learned a lot in a short amount of time, all the more proof of what Harry's specialty in magic was in these spells.

Their Quidditch field was now completely unrecognizable, the twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it.

James and Sirius gave an involuntary flinch at just the idea, wanting to sit and berate this stupid school for hours for using this stupid tournament anywhere near their field! They'd already been denied Quidditch this year, this felt like adding insult to injury! They both kept themselves at bay though because they kept hopping Harry would instead, no matter how obvious it was he was only half paying attention at best.

The stands began filling almost the moment the five were huddled around the entrance, and were also joined by Hagrid, Moody,

Harry felt himself shiver straight down to his bones as too many things tried to align themselves at once. Moody, Diggory's, Fudge, and that maze...

McGonagall, and Flitwick who were all wearing vests with bright red stars on them. McGonagall explained they would be patrolling the outskirts of the maze, and if at any time they wished to leave it they were to send up red sparks.

"That probably falls under automatic disqualification from the Cup though," Remus was clearly saying to himself, "so I cannot imagine anyone doing it."

Harry was wiping some sweat that was starting to appear, trying to get his mind to flip to any good thought, but all he could land on was when Hagrid had first taught him to do this his first time in the Forbidden Forest, and that was only making his feelings worse.

Bagman announced it was time to go, and added the Sonorous charm to his throat so that all could hear.

James muttered something inarticulate about better times at the World Cup, he'd much rather hear that all over again than this crappy version of a Cup.

He spoke grandly to the stands about how the final event of this Triwizard Tournament was coming to a close! Then he listed off the order the champions stood in.

Sirius really wanted to make a pompous remark about his proud school double beating out the others, but it would never erase the annoyance of Harry having to be in this at all.

The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky.

"Congratulations," Remus snorted in surprise.

"Why are they holding this at dusk anyways?" James rolled his eyes at the idea, "there's a reason the other events were all held in the middle of the day."

"I suppose they would have put the same charm on the stands as they did during the lake event," Sirius shrugged, "but my best guess is that some of the things they did to the maze may have been time activated, or maybe some of the beasts Hagrid offered are nocturnal."

"Sirius I will make you read this if you don't stop putting ideas in my head," Lily threatened, causing Sirius to zip his mouth shut at once.

Bagman finally announced that on his whistle, Harry and Cedric would be allowed to enter. After a short countdown, the shrill noise rang, and the two were inside the maze.

Lily took another deep breath just as Harry exhaled his own, though both were at complete opposite mindsets by this point. Lily was almost happy to finally be doing this, the problem was nearly over, where Harry was fighting back the urge to scream the worst hadn't even begun.

The hedges were so high they seemed to block the rest of the world out, and either because of thickness or magic, no sound from the crowds came through.

"The second," they all muttered, still eyeing Harry with growing concern, but Remus still tried to keep a casual conversation as he said, "wouldn't want someone shouting and giving directions after all."

Harry vaguely acknowledged him with a hum.

Harry and Cedric were on even until they reached a split, where Harry went left, and Cedric right. Not long after, a second and then third whistle was heard, and all champions were in the maze.

The boys were really starting to get twitchy with nerves, all of them shifting around or fidgeting with whatnot. Harry had this air about him like they should be expecting an attack any second, and wasn't even trying to downplay it for once.

Harry kept looking behind him. The old feeling that he was being watched was upon him.

"I'm sure everyone in the maze feels like that," Sirius muttered.

Harry knew what he meant, but still the idea lingered, thinking he was being watched, but just by one, or maybe just one eye...

When Harry hit his next crossroads, he used his Point Me spell. As his goal was northwest, the wand turned compass pointing him north was the best way to find himself.

"That's brilliant," James's eyes lit, "you remember the direction you headed for when you first met Bagman on the field."

"It was the same time of day too, so that really was an advantage they gave you all," Sirius agreed.

Harry was having a hard time concentrating on a single word they were saying, his hand wrapped securely around his wand and very sure he never wanted to reach the center of this maze.

He took the turn that would lead him in that direction, and made several more without running into anything. He was starting to feel uneasy, thinking he should have hit an obstacle by now.

"I agree," Lily nodded, her fingers turning white she was clutching the book so hard for anything to jump out any second.

"I think it's another tactic," Remus muttered, "lull him into a false sense of security for the first half."

Harry had no idea why he wanted to correct Remus about that, instead something in him was convinced his own path was being altered and helped along, but of course no one would be doing that...

He should have found something by now, but perhaps this was a trap for a false sense of security.

"Hey look, Harry agrees with you," Sirius smirked.

Then he heard movement right behind him.

They all tensed at once with that, a crup appearing right now would have had them all freaking out.

He held out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam fell only upon Cedric,

"Gah," Sirius gasped, massaging roughly at his chest to keep his heart beat in rhythm. "I swear I'm going to kill that kid, he's been driving me cr-"

Harry cried out so loud that Sirius leapt away in shock while James accidentally shot a curse into the wall that caused it to sprout a white fur pelt. Harry noticed nothing as his hands curled into fists pressed against his pounding forehead.

"Merlin pup, I was kidding," Sirius tried to pacify while everyone was left a shaking mess, Harry still not registering a thing as he sat there staring at nothing and panting with exertion.

"Deep breath Harry," James soothed, ruffling up his hair and casting his mind around for any form of distraction. "If I knew Sirius' stupid humor was going to do this to you, I'd have turned him into a terrier already."

"That's insulting," Sirius pouted at him, "I'm a deerhound and proud of it."

"Is that what you tried to transfigure the wall into?" Remus asked curiously as he waved his own to put the pattern back.

"I still have small dogs on the brain," James admitted.

Harry actually managed a laugh for them, something about the thought of a terrier really did put him back in a good mood, but it didn't erase the haunted look behind his eyes.

Lily tried a different tactic, "I'm sure you're just worried about Cedric, perhaps something from your own time like you were with Ginny. Nothing's going to happen to Cedric now." Even to her own ears the words came out flat, it was so incredibly hard to downplay how much pain her baby was clearly in, how odd he'd been acting since he'd even first heard Cedric's name, but the thought of her fourteen year old actually knowing someone who had died during this tournament was nearly unbearable. He was just too young for that to be happening to him on top of everything else he'd been through. Still, he seemed to have marshaled himself, so whatever was fixing to happen she still kept the knowledge alive her baby was fine while she forced herself to keep going.

He came tumbling out of an adjacent path, and his sleeve was smoking.

"Sounds like he's having a blast," Sirius muttered to himself as he sunk back into his seat, trying to keep that one from Harry's ears so he didn't cause any more problems with the mention of this one.

He caught sight of Harry and quickly explained it had been a Skrewt and how enormous it was,

James opened then closed his mouth, a snappy little joke about how he wanted to kill Hagrid for putting those bleeding things into this on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't want to imagine what Harry's reaction could be next.

and just as quickly ran off.

Harry stepped up his pace a bit, he had no desire to run into that. Instead he turned down the opposite way Cedric had gone, and ran into a dementor.

Lily moaned under her breath, her hands beginning to shake as the fear of Harry having to relive that memory returned even if he could summon a patronus to get rid of them, the screaming that would start in his ears would always be an echo of the worst.

Reacting on instinct, Harry quickly summoned up the idea of himself celebrating with Ron and Hermione once this was all over to summon the spell Expecto Patronum.

Remus hummed softly to himself, he always enjoyed knowing what other people's memories were when they conjured that spell, and Remus was more than happy if this became a recurring one for Harry. They were familiar and a common presence in his life, while also always managing to create new and happy memories for Harry, a great bonus as using the same memory over and over had been known to start lacking in use after a time, as if repetitive dementors feeding on the one memory could actually deteriorate an older idea. He was so lost in his own thought he hardly paid attention as Lily went on, absolutely confident in Harry's ability to conquer this.

The silver stag appeared, stampeding down the hooded figure, which began to stumble back.

"Do what?" Sirius yelped in surprise.

"Um," Remus had to blink a moment in surprise to spin his brain back and catch up with what he'd only half herd. "Oh, yes, it must be a boggart then, that's the reaction it would have with a proper patronus on it, simply hovering and considering another attack."

Harry recognized that dementors never did such a thing, and realized this must be a boggart, so instead switched spells to Riddikulus.

It vanished with a loud crack and only a vapor of smoke left.

"Must have been a really weak boggart," James raised a brow at this. "You didn't even have to smirk at it, it simply vanished with the spell."

Harry nodded without answer, that feeling still lingering heavily in his chest about how this was too easy, how he was getting help, and still that extra layer that wouldn't leave him of something concerning Cedric.

The silver stag was already fading, but Harry wished it would stay, he'd have liked the company.

"Why didn't you just cast the spell again then?" Lily offered, "It will linger as long as you keep your happy thought in mind with purpose."

"Never practiced that," Harry said distantly, taking a deep rattling breath as that too seemed to hold some meaning to him, and he was truly going to be sick soon if the feeling didn't fade.

He kept pressing on, often running into dead ends and still going many directions without running into anything but always trying to go as north as possible, until finally he came across some golden mist.

Lily could practically feel her mind flipping through an old fifth year text as she blurted, "It's a good thing you don't have anything in your pockets, that sounds like Limbo Caligo, or Limbo Mist. Easy enough to get through even if you don't know the counter charm, Gravi."

"And how do you do that?" Sirius asked for Harry since he clearly wasn't going to do so himself, he was still too distracted, but even hearing them talk seemed to be keeping his eyes at least darting to each person as they spoke. Plus, not that he'd admit it, but Sirius honestly forgot.

"Determination," Lily smiled sweetly at her son, "you just have to be brave enough to realize this isn't magic that actually turns off gravity." She didn't need to even think if Harry would figure out this second option, any boy who jumped on the back of a mountain troll would certainly gamble the odds that was how this spell could be defeated.

"What about his glasses?" James asked in concern, pushing his own slightly up the bridge of his nose only for them to fall right back down.

Lily did acknowledge that could be a problem if he didn't react quick enough, but thankfully once the spell wore off they'd just fall right back beside him, hopefully undamaged, or at least he knew how to repair them now.

Harry went towards it cautiously, his first thought to put a spell through it to blast it away.

"Honestly, I'd try that first too," James chuckled.

He chose Reducto, but it merely glided through the twinkling haze without disruption.

"Still never hurts to try," Remus shrugged.

Harry tried to consider what would happen if he went through, or if he should double back.

Then he heard the scream.

Harry gave yet another horrible shiver for what that could mean, it was happening so often they were all starting to wonder if Harry was going to fall into an involuntary fit even if he was clearly trying his hardest not to touch his memories. This scream though wasn't the one Harry was fearing this night, and though he twisted in concern for Fleur, she wasn't the one in danger...

Harry called for Fleur, but received no answer. Taking a deep breath, he knew which direction he had to go through, and so began charging the enchantment.

Lily smiled and wanted to smack her son all at the same time. Even if she did know what this Charm was, she hated the idea of him just charging into anything, but also couldn't be more proud her's was a boy that never hesitated to help a person in need.

He hadn't made it halfway across when the world seemed to flip upside down, his shoes now rooted to the grass as he seemed to dangle out into oblivion, his reflexes the only thing saving his glasses from toppling into the stars.

"There's those Quidditch reflexes," James smiled, which vanished at once as Harry still wasn't focusing on anything in this room.

He could feel the blood pumping into his head, thinking that if he tried to move he'd fall off the earth forever.

Remus shivered in disgust, now vaguely remembering learning about this spell himself, but he'd thought about it in the classroom, where it sounded sort of funny to be dangling from the ceiling like this. Harry made it sound terrifying.

He tried to think of some way out of this, but the blood rush was hard to work through, did he dare move his foot?

"I'd really like to think Harry would realize they wouldn't actually put a spell in there that would kill you like that," Sirius sighed, "but now that I know those Skrewts are in there, I don't blame Harry."

He could still send up the sparks, surely someone would see them right side up and get him off this flipside earth.

Harry muttered something under his breath how he was wishing he'd picked that option, but it was at least some form of his communicating again.

He still felt that scream echoing in his head, and so taking one long deep breath, he wrenched his foot free.

Lily's smile widened, she really was just so impressed at her Hare Bare committing to something like that when less brave people would have coped out already. It helped she knew the end results and he'd be fine.

The world flipped right side up again, the moon and stars above having their ever friendly glow while the golden mist twinkled innocently behind him as he ran off.

"The most dangerous things are often the cute looking ones," Sirius grumbled in agreement, thankful Harry hadn't run across any sweet smelling plants from those greenhouses yet.

It was at the next junction he hesitated again, wondering why he'd never seen any sparks after Fleur's scream. Had she fought off whatever had caused it, or was so injured she couldn't reach her wand?

"Oh I'm sure it's not that bad," James twitched in unease.

Even as he kept through the shrubbery, in the very small back of his mind, he heard himself think 'one down.'

That caught Harry's attention full force, as he looked shameful and tried to utter an apology.

"Nah," Sirius waved him off, "I'm confident she's just fine, I'd be celebrating too."

Harry felt warmed and slightly more in control that his first instinct was finally to agree with that good news.

The cup had to be close by now, and for the first time since he'd heard about all of this, that image again appeared before his eyes. Rising from here in victory in front of the rest of the school...

Then Harry choked and instantly lost whatever small bit of color he'd gained, and no one could deny any more how confused and terrified they were at all of this. What the bloody hell happened in this maze that was affecting him so bad? Lily didn't want to keep going, it was clearly going to be traumatic for him to relearn, but then she comforted herself at least she was here now to help him through it, he was going to be fine, she had the proof in front of her.

Another long stretch of time passed again before he found his next run in, a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"Oh joy." Remus meant to say that with sarcasm, anything that sent Cedric running like that couldn't be anything actually good, but he'd never deny his thirst for more knowledge about beasts, especially a new one like this. It was clearly bigger than the last time Harry had seen it, which meant more to hear about.

Cedric had not been exaggerating, it was enormous. Ten feet long, it now resembled a headless scorpion with a curled tail over its back.

"That is the scariest pink thing I have ever imagined," Sirius nodded to himself.

He at once shouted Stupefy!

"Stunners starting too nice," James frowned at the idea of anything that size approaching Harry.

It rebounded off the carapace and Harry only just ducked in time, but could still smell burning hair.

"Bloody hell, Hagrid really knows how to create some monsters," Remus' eyes widened even further.

"Maybe it has the same kind of weaknesses as acromantulas, and it's best to hit them on their underbellies," Sirius offered.

"Let's see if Harry thinks of that," Lily said with hope.

It had singed the top of his head.

"So fire can come out of both ends?" Remus sighed.

"Unless it tried farting in Harry's face," Sirius agreed.

"Nope, it fireballed me," Harry told, making all of them actually smile. It wasn't a happy image, but any normal response from him would be appreciated.

A jet of fire came out of the other end, surging it even faster towards him, and Harry kept trying to shoot off the Impedimenta.

"Well now you're panicking," James groaned, "using the same spell twice."

"Saying it louder hasn't ever made it better," Lily agreed, bite marks starting to appear on her lip from how often she was going at it.

The skrewt was practically on top of him when the spell finally landed a hit on its underbelly. Harry began edging backwards, then turned tail and ran as fast as he could, knowing that wouldn't last long.

"That is true," Sirius agreed, "but major credit to you, you've learned a very important lesson about a lot of creatures. Their weakness is usually their belly."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry promised, wiping more sweat from his temple at another sharp stab telling him this would come back to him sooner than he'd think.

Harry lost track of his way a bit and had to carefully back track to be heading north again, when he heard another scream, this time much closer by as Cedric demanded what was going on.

Krum's voice rent the air as he yelled Crucio!

"K-Krum!" James yipped, entirely sure he'd heard wrong.

"I, wow he-" even Sirius looked stunned at this turn of events, his suspicions of Krum's headmaster really hadn't even lead him to believe the guy would use an Unforgivable Curse!

Harry was frowning so much deep lines were starting to appear in his face. Now he knew there was something off going on, something just plain wrong with this scene, and it wasn't the curse being used, but something to do with the real person giving it.

A horrible yell tore at the night from just one hedge over, but Harry kept sprinting up and down and couldn't find a way through! Finally he used the Reductor Curse, which only caused a very small hole to appear, but after much forcing his way through, he broke into the new path.

James was temporarily surprised to realize Harry hadn't just been doing this all along, he could have been blasting his way right to the center of the maze like that. Now wasn't really the time to be thinking about that though.

What he saw was Cedric, twitching on the ground, with Krum standing over him.

Lily's voice was quivering over every word now, after recently learning what would happen to Frank and Alice, that spell took on a whole new level of horrifying to her, something she hadn't previously thought possible.

Harry at once tried to put a spell on Krum, but the moment he caught sight of Harry, he tried to run.

"Run?" Sirius demanded brutally. "How do you curse someone like that one second and run the next, you'd think he'd just turn on Harry."

"Isn't everyone in the crowd watching this?" Remus reminded, "He should be disqualified immediately already. Merlin, someone could set a case for him being sent to Azkaban for using this, all for a bleeding Cup."

James was as blasted as the others at this turn of events, they'd really had nothing to see this coming, but even still he pointed out, "well it's good to know Krum really is a scumbag in on whatever plans been going around Harry this year, but I don't buy it Krum's behind everything, so let's let Lily stay on track."

Harry was saved yet another wave of pain from what he was sure was an inaccurate statement from his dad by at least being comforted by the end and agreeing.

Harry shot Stupefy

"That was a kindness," Sirius said darkly, but he supposed he'd be even more shocked if Harry had used anything else. He'd proved time and again he was too good a person to be throwing curses around, even to someone's back after they'd just used the worst kind.

which hit Krum in the small of his back. He face planted the grass while Harry ran to Cedric and asked how he was.

Harry made a soft whimpering noise he didn't even seem aware of, his body's way of trying to warn him he wouldn't have long to wonder just how bad that spell could hurt.

Cedric agreed he was fine while he uneasily got to his feet. Harry asked if he'd heard Fleur scream earlier as well, and Cedric thought Krum was responsible for her as well.

"I'm sure it was something else," Remus said instantly, "and she's still in the game." None of them wanted to consider otherwise, even Krum wouldn't Crucio someone into submission and leave them to die...right? Had they, and Hermione, and everyone been fooled so well?

Then Cedric suggested they should just leave him here and press on, but Harry corrected he was going to put red sparks above Krum, lest a skrewt eat him.

"There are worse fates," Sirius sneered even if he knew he wouldn't have disagreed with Harry.

Cedric muttered how he'd deserve it,

Sirius gave a soft laugh, he hadn't expected to be mimicking someone he'd been threatening so much lately, but still a bit pompous his point had been repeated.

but did indeed raise his own wand and put the sparks up. Then he turned to Harry and suggested they keep moving.

Harry was surprised for a moment, their having come together against Krum had temporarily distracted him they were opponents.

"Um, wow, yeah." James had to blink a few times to realize he needed to move past this moment no matter how badly it left a taste in his mouth. "Congratulations, Hogwarts won."

"That's all we wanted in the beginning," Lily sighed, wondering where all that good mood had gone, and how long it would take to come back.

The two went off together again, but split at the next fork. Harry traced his way through now very distracted, trying to understand why Krum would risk a sentence in Azkaban just for this tournament.

"I wouldn't have believed so," Remus agreed, wondering if Harry just wasn't putting together what they were thinking, Krum had been a part of the idea from the beginning of putting Harry into this task to hurt him...but then why hadn't he turned on Harry in that moment? Why had he in fact done the opposite?

He almost ran smack into a sphinx.

"Oh boy," James sighed.

"I never had the patience for these things and their riddles," Sirius agreed.

Remus hushed the other two, undeniable excitement lighting him as he got to hear about one of these in a new way, hear one of their riddles in as close to in person as he'd ever get.

It mostly resembled a lion in body, but with the head of a woman. The whole thing combined was eerily pretty.

Harry hesitated to raise his wand, as she was not crouching to spring,

"She won't do that until you get it wrong," Sirius muttered for Harry, who had gone back to only half listening again, Krum weighing back on his mind just like Cedric, and whatever was coming at the end of this.

but instead blocking his path.

She spoke to him in a throaty voice of how close to his goal he was, and Harry politely asked her to move.

Lily couldn't stop a surprised giggle busting out, quickly followed by all but Harry, who snapped back to here with a roll of his eyes. It had been worth a shot.

She instead explained how this would go. He could hear her riddle, and if guessed right, he could pass. If wrong, she would attack. If he gave no answer, she would let him leave without question.

"I wonder if someone like Dumbledore made a deal with this sphinx like he had the mermen," Remus mused. "In the wild, they're much less known for forewarning you like this, they simply see you, spring the riddle, and if you don't guess right they pounce."

"I can imagine that," Lily agreed happily, "so when she says she's going to attack you, she's most likely just going to chase until you send up the sparks."

Aside from that dragon, this Tournament really hadn't been as bad as they'd all been fearing. In fact it was the stuff outside of it which had really been the worst, could that be what was bothering Harry? Not the maze itself, but whatever happened after he got out? It wasn't exactly encouraging, but Harry was watching his mother with some delight again as she finished, "well never the less, I am hoping Harry at least hears the riddle, I love figuring those out."

Harry felt his stomach twist in concern, it was Hermione who was good at this type of thing.

"Sadly this isn't a buddy challenge," James gave a small smile, his mind going back to Harry's first year, and Hermione solving Snape's riddle. He hoped Harry had at least picked up some tips from her in the meantime.

Harry decided he wanted to hear the riddle, with the option in mind he could leave if he wanted to.

The sphinx took a seat and recited:

Insert sphinx riddle

Lily was actually smiling by the end, much to everyone's annoyance.

"I will never understand how you enjoy riddles and poems," Remus shook his head at her. "Sometimes the answers are so contrived."

Lily ignored him as she reread the riddle again to herself, then out loud, shushing whoever tried to speak up as she turned it all out, before speaking aloud, "well the first part's a bit hard to find an exact match, it seems broad but doable if you find at least one other part. The second is one I've seen hidden in other riddles, the letter d. The last bit is facing the same problem as the first, you need some kind of information to string them all together for the final answer. I'm wondering if it might rhyme with kiss, but no, the riddle feels complete by rhyming with this. Hum, so perhaps building from there, err something you wouldn't want to kiss with a d in it regarding a liar as well as a noise, no wait, err, person could be an actual-"

"Lily," James finally begged. "You know I love you, and honestly I'd love nothing more than to sit here and watch you puzzle this out, but don't you want to see how Harry does?" James had honestly meant it, he'd been sitting there with an old fond expression his friends had seen more times than they could count in school as he'd watched the love of his life go through all this in her own way. He had no doubts she would get there in the end, but Harry was starting to look sickly again at watching her even as he was smiling along.

Lily sighed, but gave in with minimal dispute.

Harry asked for it again more slowly, and his first response to something he didn't want to kiss was a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Remus snorted with laughter even as Sirius got over his cackling and agreed, "Hey, it even fits the answer, the middle of middle and end of end, both could link into the name of that thing."

"I don't think so," Lily said critically, not at all laughing as she was still hovering over what this could be even as she read. "I don't see that being the answer."

James kept laughing all the harder for her taking this so seriously, but quietly enough she was ignoring him.

Still, he didn't feel that was actually the answer, so he began working out the clues, first thinking aloud how a person in disguise could be a liar, like an imposter, then quickly shouted at the sphinx that wasn't his guess!

"Yeah, it's probably safe to keep that clarified," Remus agreed.

Offering a few more options as well as a spy.

Lily hummed at the idea with approval, though wasn't entirely sure herself, and was glad Harry was tackling another one instead.

He had not a guess for what the second part could mean, and erred to himself aloud what the last thing of mend was.

Lily's mind finally gave a click as she uttered that noise aloud, putting all three pieces together, and suddenly beaming as she kept going, sounding happier right now than she had during any combined Tournament moments.

Then he asked for the last line.

"That second one really is easier to figure out if you're looking at the actual words instead of just saying them," Remus agreed over Lily's actually happy reading. They were all watching her with amusement now, as they realized she'd gotten it, but didn't bother asking her to share, if she was going to she would have.

Harry kept saying err aloud as he tried to figure out a sound he'd make for a hard to find word, then realized the exact noise he was making, err was a sound!

"You certainly say it enough," Sirius quipped.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

He tried tying his first and last clue together, muttering about a spy-er, spy-er, then yelping the answer spider!

"Don't you ever again try to say you're not smart," Lily praised, "that was brilliant love."

Harry was flushed at the praise, meeting her eyes and still never growing tired of watching the color match back. There was some small part of him, even underneath all the dread anger and fear he was holding for this night, that left him in no doubt that this one moment where he was sitting beside his father being praised by his mother would mean something incredibly special on this June night as well.

The sphinx smiled at him, and then stepped aside.

Harry thanked her as he dashed past, baffled at his own brilliance.

James threw his head back and laughed hard at that one, he'd had his own moments of that in his school when he'd come up with some brilliant on the spot moves, but nothing as clever as this.

Harry turned one last corner, and there it was at last, the Triwizard Cup gleaming on a plinth yards away.

Harry watched those around him light up, and for just that one moment he let himself feel that too. The feeling that this was all over, Harry had won, he was about to walk out victorious against all odds.

Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him.

Sirius snarled in frustration, there just always had to be that one more thing.

Cedric had arrived as well,

"Oh bloody hell," James yelped in outrage, he knew he'd be beyond furious if Cedric took this win now! Harry had come so close, he shouldn't have even been in here, yet despite everything he honestly deserved it more for all the crap he'd been through. Where were the brooms when you needed them? Harry'd have him beat in moments.

his legs were longer, he had the further advantage, and Harry realized that cup was lost.

"Then stun him!" Remus blurted as he bounced in place.

Harry just shook his head, realizing the thought wouldn't cross his mind, for that one moment he'd been going to let Cedric win...which flooded him with so much worry in that moment Harry knew he should have done just that, done everything in his power to stop Cedric getting to that Cup. Harry wasn't that petty though, he shouldn't care that much about winning...

Cedric only had eyes for the cup, and as Harry watched his precision, he saw what Cedric had not, a dark figure scuttling along about to collide right with him.

Harry called out a warning, and Cedric only had just enough time to dart to the side as a gigantic spider was on the path.

"Gah!" Lily screeched. "That blasted riddle was as much a warning! Curse Hagrid and those bleeding spiders." She kept reading too fast for anyone to say otherwise even if they'd wanted to.

Harry shot Stupefy at once, but all this achieved was drawing the arachnid's attention.

"Oh but there's the bright side, you got it coming towards you now!" Sirius mock cheered.

"Harry has an awful knack of doing that," James groaned.

Harry kept shooting curse after curse, but it was doing no good, and without a moment to run the pincers caught him up by the waist and began lowering him towards its mouth, and Harry screamed in pain.

Lily's voice was starting to hurt it was pitching so high in fear. It was such a contrast to how happy she'd been moments ago and seeing Harry's win in the light the differnce left them all lagging in shock of a proper emotion.

Harry could hear Cedric trying the same spells he had, to the same effect, so Harry desperately tried Expelliarmus.

"Credit for originality," Remus muttered, "I don't think anyone's ever tried disarming a spider."

The Disarming Spell finally did something, Harry was released, only to sail to the ground and crash on his bleeding leg. Being half under the creature's mandibles, he aimed for the belly and shouted Stupefy just as Cedric did the same.

Spells combined, the spider finally keeled over and crashed through a hedge.

Lily felt herself shaking back into the cushions in relief. This had to be over now, she couldn't imagine anything worse protecting the Cup.

Cedric called for Harry in concern, asking if the spider had landed on him?

"Cedric really is such a good guy," Sirius shook his head in fondness, "I can think of a dozen other people who would have gone on for the Cup. The moment he touched it the Tournament would have been over, it would have done Harry just as much good as sticking around helping him while also giving him the win."

Harry felt a sudden stinging in his eyes, unable to understand why he was happy for that one moment where Sirius had finally admitted he'd liked Cedric.

Harry called back at least that hadn't happened, while he inspected his leg. It was bleeding freely, and a black thick substance surrounded it were the pincers had torn the flesh.

"That would be the beginnings of a paralyzing secretion," Remus shivered, "so tell Cedric to hop along already and get you out of there before it sets in."

He tried heaving himself to his feet, but his ankle wouldn't support him, he'd certainly at least sprained it in his fall.

Cedric was weaving his way through the legs to Harry's side, while Harry demanded what he was doing, telling him to get on with it and go grab it.

Cedric took a deep breath,

"Oh he's not," James' started to smile.

and told Harry in thanks for saving Cedric twice in here, he'd let Harry have it.

"Oh but he is!" Sirius barked in triumph. "Finally, some proper payback for that dragon tip!"

Harry was rubbing at his leg as he remembered that pain, ignoring the both of them as he was now running an internal monologue of regret that he didn't leap at this opportunity on the spot and do just that, instead he just knew he'd argue the point with Cedric, and Cedric would pay for it.

Harry snapped back that wasn't how this worked. His leg was hurting him more every second, he pulled himself up and only stayed that way by support of a wall, full of regret Cedric had beaten him in this as much as he had with asking Cho to the ball.

Lily gave a soft sigh, wanting to give her son a hug for feeling so seconded by Cedric all year, and now was certainly the worst time.

Cedric tried to say otherwise, but Harry insisted he couldn't even try a race on this leg, it was Cedric's. Still he said no.

Remus couldn't help it, he was starting to laugh a bit at this exchange. When, in the Cup's history, had two champions ever reached it and then argued over who deserved it more? He thought both boys should take it now, it honestly seemed a way to make everyone happy.

Cedric pointed out how he wouldn't have even made it this far if Harry hadn't helped him out with the dragons.

"I'm positive no one would have," Sirius grumbled.

Harry snapped back he'd had help with that too, and that favor had been returned with the egg.

Cedric confessed he'd had help with that as well.

Harry felt like he was standing inside a church bell as it was being rung his head hurt so bad, he closed his eyes tight to try and convince his brain not to be the death of him for how badly he was aching because of all of this, but that helped nothing. It was much more soothing to keep his eyes open on his mother, a small smile lingering on her face as she kept going. No one seemed that surprised Cedric had gotten help in the first place, clearly everyone in the Tournament had been getting help from someone, it seemed perfectly natural to them.

Harry still pointed out that made them square.

Cedric wasn't having it, insisting he should have acted like Harry back in the second task and stayed behind for the other hostages, Harry should have flat out won that. Harry insisted he had just been the only one thick enough to take that song seriously.

"Now what did you go calling me thick for?" Sirius demanded, and was instantly concerned when for the first time Harry didn't smile at that. His eyes were glassy, his lips trembling as he was clearly using all his willpower to repress saying something. They were all starting to feel the beginnings of panic set in, what could be so bad about this? Lily was starting to rush a bit in getting this finished, hoping the problem once they got out of there really was something they could help Harry cope through.

Cedric still refused, walking farther and farther away from the prize, and Harry realized he was serious.

"No, I am!" Sirius tried again a little desperately, anything to snap Harry out of it, and it seemed to work for just a second as Harry glanced at his godfather, but it helped nothing with whatever was eating the poor boy alive. Was that guilt?

He was actively walking away from Hufflepuff glory the house had never seen, all while insisting it should be Harry's for the taking. He crossed his arms and met his eyes, absolutely decided.

"Well now we're all doomed," James tried to pop some humor as well which fell dead flat around him.

Harry looked past him to the cup, for one second the image again in his eyes of being lifted into a cheering crowd, Cho's shining eyes only on him and that gleaming cup.

"If Cho dumps Cedric for you, just because you won, I honestly won't approve," Lily grumbled to herself.

Just as quickly though, Harry blinked it all away, telling that they both would take it.

Harry moaned, tears trickling out of the corner of his eyes as he shook his head desperately, knowing he'd give anything to take that back.

Lily made to put the book down and go to her son, but Remus caught her and reminded her what always seemed to help him best when this was eating away at him. Get the memory over with. She didn't agree, nothing they could be getting to would make any of this feel better, but she saw just how little she had left, and she honestly wanted her completion to be done just to have the thing out of her hands.

Cedric at first could only splutter in surprise, but Harry insisted on the idea. It would still be a Hogwarts victory, they'd helped each other every step of the way, they both deserved it.

Cedric's eyes lit with delight, and he agreed to the idea, offering Harry a shoulder over to their prize. Harry took it, and the two awkwardly made their way into the slight glow, each grasping a handle.

Harry felt as if his world was crumbling down around him, that one last moment he had left of seeing that smile on Cedric's face, the triumph gleaming in his eyes as his fingers grasped that at the same moment as Harry's. A million regrets tumbled through him of why Harry hadn't just touched it one moment sooner, why he'd let this happen-

Instantly there was a jerk in his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not release the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward with Cedric at his side.

Harry lost his thin tether he'd been holding, and vomited.

HPHPHPHPHP

Just before anyone asks, I'm not going to bring up the 'why didn't they just put the portkey spell on any object' plot hole up until the end of the book, where there's just going to be a whole chapter curled around the many aspects of this particular book. If you send me a suggestion of what you want to see in said discussion, there's a chance I'll slip it in if I don't already have a better spot for it.

I recognize the next three chapters all kind of go together, and since they're relatively short compared to what I've been working with lately, I promise I'm not completely a monster. I will do my very best to get them up even quicker than my normal updating, so with any luck the next one will be up Tuesday.

Completely unrelated side note, has anyone else taken the WOMBAT test? If not, see

www. hp-lexicon source /other -canon/ jkr /jkr -w2/

The commentary on these questions is hilarious, and I usually chose John/Steve's answers because they're sarcastic little shits like me, but Belinda embodies me a lot too.

#The LIfe that Never LIved #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #The Marauders #jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

[flowers-of-io]

The moment Ór’s room’s door shuts behind her, Runi materialises, his eye blinking irately.

“Why did you take it?”

Ór moves past him, taking her cloak off and throwing it on the chair. The gun is heavy on her hip—sickly silver-black, Taken ozone almost a palpable taste in the air.

“You heard me, you were there too.” Her back is facing him. She undoes her pigtails and reaches for the hairbrush.

Runi buzzes like an angry wasp, floating in circles across the room. When Ór turns to him with folded arms, he stops and slams his petals shut.

“Who do you think he is?”

“A broken renegade with trust issues?” Ór’s eyebrows go up. She sounds calm, if somewhat miffed.

“And a two-faced murderer.”

“Most probably.”

Still twitching his shell back and forth furiously, he follows her as she sits on the bed and takes off her necklaces. The silence between them is heavy with the unsaid, and when a jade pendant flickers in the lamplight, he cannot hold it in any longer.

“You care for him, right?”

She looks up at Runi, then away to the window. “Mhm.”

“…why?”

Ór’s eyes flick back to him, something long dormant since the clash with Zavala sparkling up in them like a warning.

“Because nothing has yet convinced me I shouldn’t!” Her hand closes around the pendant. “The damn Nine deemed him as ‘worthy’, which puts him in the same league as Eris Morn. And while I’d die for quite a few people, I would kill for Eris Morn. Yet everyone acts around him as if he was a pile of rotten fruit.”

Runi spins his petals as Ór places the necklaces in the wall niche serving as a shelf next to her bed. He shifts uncomfortably.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, but…” his optic sweeps the room as if avoiding her gaze. “You know, at first I thought you were just… desperate for a mentor, that’s why you clung to him. But now I’m worried you’re—you��re getting too invested.”

She stares at him intensely and he cannot avoid her eyes anymore. Her face expresses no anger, just mild curiosity.

“Elaborate.”

“Look, I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt... And I know that if he double-crosses you, if it turns out he’s been playing you false all along—I know how it will crush you.” He floats up to her and hovers at arm’s length. “I don’t want him to break your heart.”

She breaks the eye contact and glances to the jade pendant sitting on the shelf in a coil of red cord. The silence between them feels thick.

“I’m not afraid he’ll do that,” she replies eventually, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head atop them. A strand of hair falls over her face. “I was… for a long time, I had it in the back of my mind. But not anymore.”

“What if?” Runi presses on. She looks so innocent, so vulnerable, with hair undone and no makeup, no heavy armour or a hood hiding her face in shadow. No weapon to defend herself. He wants to scream at the thought of someone turning against her, this defenceless and fragile. She closes her eyes and brushes the strand away.

“A risk worth taking.”

He observes his Guardian slide under the blankets and turning the nightlamp off with a click. It’s so annoying how she just won’t listen, he thinks, how she wagers her heart so lightly. She won’t admit it’s burnt her, no, she never does, she will only speak less and brood more and maybe make a rebellious bad decision to kill the sorrow. Funny how she still sometimes feels opaque to him.

From his spot on the shelf, he is keeping watch as she slips into a dream, effortlessly and gently like a sunbeam finding a way through the curtains. Of one thing he is certain, the day he will cease to protect her will be the day he dies.

#it's tidying up old wips day again #i wrote this thing in august oh man #my fics #oc #ór #ór/drifter #runi #destiny 2

[thatboomerkid]

PORTALS

We open weird portals to the Underworld and pull the Damned out for cash [part 1]

Hellcrashers Fiction by Nonbinary Bones

I broke open the factory door with a crowbar and entered a decrepit manufacturing plant. The soot-covered facility went bankrupt years ago and still leaked chemical waste into the “Mighty Missisip’” several decades later.

For a brief moment, the only noises were the icy wind racing over the waterfront and the soft ticking sound of the van’s engine behind me. The side panel of the van slid open.

“Sweet baby Jesus, it’s colder than a witches’ tit in a brass bra out here!” Felix exclaimed.

I nodded my agreement as a mechanized lift lowered my co-worker’s wheelchair to the ground.

Jackie hopped from the passenger seat, her military boots crunching on the wooden timbers of the boardwalk.

Sections of the greasy promenade had rotted away, revealing the polluted harbor below. The rancid waters stank of dead fish and petroleum. A huge rickety crane loomed overhead, its base squatting in the water, rusting its way towards oblivion.

Jackie opened the back of the van, rooted around, then pulled a bulletproof vest on over her tank top. She held another vest out in her grimy hand. I took it with a grateful nod.

Vasquez put The Club on the steering wheel, a sunshield on the dash, and began inspecting his gear. He may have been an OCD prick, but he knew how to plan a job.

New Kid hovered nearby, hands in his pockets.

“Hey Bitchnugget, try doing something useful for a change!” Felix jibed.

We grabbed our camping gear and entered the factory. Light filtered in through broken windows from sodium streetlamps outside. The center of the room was illuminated, but darkness clung to the corners. Conveyor belts and walkways filled the cavernous space like a real-life version of Chutes and Ladders. The air reeked of grease and metal. Rusted machinery spoke of long years of disuse.

Felix accidentally rolled right through a pile of animal droppings and cried out in disgust at getting shit in the tire treads. His shouts echoed in the gloom.

I dropped a duffel to the floor and opened it up, revealing a cache of weapons. We divvied up the contents so each of us had gas masks and guns.

“Alright everyone, huddle up.” I said. Everyone gathered in a semi-circle. “Vasquez, give us the rundown.”

“Today is a standard snatch-and-grab. Our target is named Aurora Laura.” He held up a centerfold spread ripped from an adult magazine. The lewd pose didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Real name Laura Brown. Originally from Omaha.” He squinted at the glossy pages. “Measures 34B, Waist 25, Hips 26. Likes puppies and men who aren’t afraid to show their vulnerable side.”

The New Kid blushed, Jackie snorted, and Felix grinned.

“We have reliable intel that the client’s Dearly Departed is being held in a Domain known as Hotel California. Basically, it’s worse than the worst ‘No-Tell Motel’ you’ve ever imagined; word on the street says each Dweller gets their own room, so we’re searching door to door.” He sighed.

The rest of us groaned out loud. “The floor-plan tends to change on its own, so watch out for that. This isn’t Scooby-Doo: we do not split up under any circumstances.”

“If you see something valuable on the way out, grab it. And I’m talking something portable. Smaller than a breadbox. We don’t want another incident like last time.”

Vasquez looked pointedly at Felix before continuing.

“Garrett, you’ll pop the Cherry for us.”

I nodded in response.

“We go in, acquire the target, and get the fuck out of Dodge. Any questions?” Vasquez looked at each of us with an upraised eyebrow.

New Kid raised his hand like a schoolboy.

“Why am I not surprised?” Felix asked the ceiling.

“What’s a Cherry?”

“It’s a door, Kid. A gateway Down Below Where The Bad Men Go.”

“Oh, right.” he said, blushing.

“Okay then, let’s get to it.” I said.

Past wasp’s nests and sticky linoleum floors I found a door with an “Employees Only” sign on it. The door-frame sagged, dislocated from rotted walls heavy with mildew. The door had warped over time so even though it was unlocked I almost couldn’t get it to budge. The factory door bore battle scars and boot prints from a hard fight with someone who lacked a crowbar. Someone like me. Busting open the door revealed a tiny office containing a desk, chairs, and an empty safe. Nothing worthwhile. I closed the door again.

From my backpack I took a jar of a milky yellow fluid and a barbecue basting brush. When I unscrewed the lid, a nasty rotting smell wafted out. My nose wrinkled in distaste as I began painting the door hinges in slime.

“What the Hell is that?” inquired the New Kid over my shoulder.

“Kid, Crashers never say the H-Word. Never. Not even Topside if we can avoid it. I told you this before we started.” I said.

“Aw, come on! That’s some superstitious bullshit!”

“I mean it.” I glared at him. “Watch your fucking mouth or you’ll jinx the whole Crash. Do not say the H-Word.”

“Sorry. What the heck is that?”

“Ever hear of ‘bukkake’?” I replied.

“No?”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but why are you doing that?”

“This particular Cherry won’t pop until the hinges have been lubed with actual body secretions. And before you ask: no, spit won’t cut it. Just be grateful the gateway doesn’t need it fresh.”

“Are they all like that?”

“No, some of them only open at midnight or you have to make a cat cry in pain. It depends on the Cherry.”

“Can I ask you a question?” the Kid asked, shuffling his feet uncertainly.

“Another one? Sure, Kid. Ask away.” I replied patiently.

“What makes a Cherry open where it does? I mean, if they can open anywhere how come a gateway doesn’t open up in the middle of Times Square? Or in a daycare?”

I paused for a long moment, considering.

“Rust and despair. Plants need water and sunshine. Mushrooms need shade and shit. Cherries need rust and despair. Simple as that.”

When I finished painting the hinges the door creaked open on its own, this time revealing a rickety wooden staircase down into darkness. Felix cracked a couple chemical glow sticks and shook them. They began glowing with a golden-green light and he tossed them through the doorway.

I grabbed the handles behind Felix’s wheelchair and edged it closer to the Cherry.

“Hey careful with the merchandise, peasant!”

“I ain’t afraid to kick a cripple downstairs.”

Felix stood up on the other side of the portal.

“What the fuck? You’re just faking?” Kid asked in an angry, disbelieving tone with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“No, Cuntpuddle.” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “My legs don’t work Topside, but they work just fine in the Nether.”

“Topside?”

“That’s just a slang term for the world we live in. Topside is the place that the Damned covet beyond all else and the rest of us take pretty much entirely for granted. Don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone, as they say. It’s the world you see out your window, where we get born, fuck around, and die. It is what it is and for the most part it’s a pretty okay place to be. For the most part.”

“But how can he walk on the other side of the gate?”

“I don’t know Kid, but as soon as you figure it out let me know.” I said.

We turned on our lights and the five of us moved slowly downwards, footsteps echoing in the gloom.

The staircase was built out of salvaged boards, no two of which were the same; different lengths, different colors. There were fourteen steps exactly, but the topmost step was smaller than all the others and bright red. A last minute addition to avoid Unlucky 13 perhaps.

My nerves were on edge as we descended. Every little creaking step telegraphed our movements to anything lurking nearby.

At the bottom of the stairs we found a diseased and barren wasteland. The ground was black and filthy like the Athabasca oil sands of Canada. My throat and lungs ached. Noxious smoke filled the air and made breathing a chore.

I saw a hundred burning fires lighting up the distant mountains. That made me real tense. I’d watched “The Hills Have Eyes” once and the things down here would have put cannibal mutant rapists to shame.

Glancing backwards, I saw the staircase slowly disappearing like it’d never existed.

----------

In front of us, our destination was uncomfortably close. Squatting less than two hundred yards away was a dilapidated motel modeled after every circa-1940s cheaper-than-shit roadside inn on “the wrong side of the tracks” but worse. The walls had been marred by fire. A flickering red neon sign stuttered “VACANCY” into the night. On the porch was a screen door creaking back and forth on its hinges as if begging for relief. Acid rain tinkled weakly against the corrugated tin roof.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Hotel California.” I said.

Inside, we found rusted pipes leaking raw sewage and rotting the stucco. Fungal blooms spread over paper-thin plywood with the texture of rotten leaves splintering at the softest touch. Nearly every window was boarded up over the remnants of razor-sharp glass.

We searched room to room, seeing some of the sickest things you’ve never imagined. Things that can’t be unseen. It took us almost three days to find our target. I think the New Kid must have puked twenty times during that stretch.

Sleep was damn-near impossible for a variety of reasons. The moth-eaten sheets were stained yellow, constantly and consistently damp with every body fluid imaginable.

Thanks to the AC units mounted in the walls, most of the rooms were freezing cold and when I say freezing cold I mean actual people covered in actual ice. Never thought I’d see someone with their own urine frozen in an icicle hanging from their crotch.

Some of the rooms were blazing hot, literally cooking the inhabitants alive.

“Mmm! Smells like down-home cooking!” Felix quipped as he caught a whiff of scorched human flesh.

The ice machine down the hall never actually worked until you were attempting to sleep at which point it spontaneously turned on. It wouldn’t do a damn thing when you wanted it to but it would happily and loudly make the sound of a thousand blenders grinding away at a fistful of pebbles as soon as you laid down.

The first night we were camping in one of the motel rooms when the old TV in the corner suddenly turned itself on, self-tuned those old rabbit ear antennas covered in foil, and scared the ever-loving crap out of us by blasting some repugnant program at maximum volume.

The New Kid unplugged the television from the wall, but it stayed on anyway, causing him to start pounding on it angrily.

“Kid, quit making such a damn racket.” Vasquez said.

“Okay, fine.” the New Kid huffed, throwing himself down on the bed. “So here’s a question.”

“Jerkstain, your entire life is one big fucking question.” Felix quipped.

“Where do those shows come from? Is it something the Hotel made to screw with us?”

“Actually, that is a good question.” I said, busily stripping, cleaning, and reassembling my rifle. “I’m fairly certain those shows are piped in from CRT.”

“CRT?”

“It’s another Domain in the Big Bad. Except instead of a motel imagine a sewer filled with television sets and bad wiring. All the TV channels are fucked-up versions of the worst shows ever made.”

“Yeah Dickcheese, if you survive this job maybe someday you’ll get to go there!” Felix said, holding out a flask.

The Kid ignored the jibe but accepted the flask and took a swig of whiskey.

“For example?”

“Okay, you’ve seen the show ‘Survivor?’ Now imagine it’s more like the Hunger Games except the contestants hunt and eat each other to survive.”

“Jesus…”

“Trust me Kid; you really don’t want to watch anything on that boob tube. Here’s a question for you, Kid. How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Well… I dropped out of high school and started getting into trouble, hanging out with a bad crowd. One night my gang broke into a moving van and the cops spotted us. So I ran and made it into the basement of an abandoned meat packing plant. Found a door leading to a hallway made of baby teeth. The cops following me got eaten by a monster made out of tumors and barbed wire. Bought me time to get back Topside. After that, it was only a matter of time before I found more Crashers. What about you guys?”

“Back in the day I was a long-haul trucker until I went into the wrong goddamn gas station. My partner never really came out again. I found that I’d lost the use of my legs when I dragged myself out of the Pit. I figure if I keep Crashing I’ll find a way to make them work permanently.”

“How about you?”

“Me? I’m in it for the money. Cold, hard cash. This ain’t no charity; I got bills to pay. When I do a job, I expect to get paid.” I said.

“Amen to that, brother.” Jackie said, tilting a bottle in my direction with a nod. “The bigger the paycheck the better.”

“How about you Vasquez? How’d you get into this line of work?”

“I’ve been doing this my whole life, man.” Vasquez replied.

“Say what now?”

“When I was a kid, I was a refugee. My dad brought me to the U.S. from Cuba on a raft made out of old plastic barrels he lashed together. I think I was about nine, maybe ten years old at the time.”

“You’re a Cuban?”

“Cuban-American to you, gringo. I’m a Hialeah boy, born and raised. Before ‘95, if a Cubano set foot on American soil they got the chance to apply for residency status a year later. Lucky for us, we made it ashore before we got picked up on Miami Beach. Dry-Feet, they called us.”

“Dad got a job working graveyard shift at a gas station and I started going to school. I always walked down there by myself to bring Dad a soda and we’d sit and chat for a while. One night I’m going down there right before bedtime and there’s all these police out front with that yellow crime scene tape strung up across the door. The cops say that the robbers put lit matches all over him before they killed him.” He takes a long swig from the bottle.

“So Mom couldn’t afford the rent without Dad, and after that we were sleeping rough. Couch-surfing, church pews, shelters, and sidewalks.”

“My God…” Kid said.

“God? God can’t help us, man. See, Satan led his army to storm the Gates of Heaven and drove God and the angels out. The demons smashed his palace of blue-moon marble into dust and Satan sits on the Throne of Heaven. That’s why our world is so fucked up.”

“So Dad’s spirit came to me. He was bloody and there were these tiny flames burning all over his body. He told me that demons found doors to our world. That’s why the gates keep opening, man.”

“Dad told me that he was joining God’s secret army of angels to take back Heaven. He told me that I needed to learn to fight. To stay strong and smart, so I could count on myself, no one else. To fight back against evil. So I went looking for the gates. You look hard enough and long enough, eventually you find something. And I did.”

“Man… is it worth it?” the Kid asked.

“That’s not the right question.” I said.

“Huh?”

“The real question is do you censor yourself or not?”

“What do you mean?”

“Option A: you say the things you ought to, and shut your mouth on what you actually think. You wear the clothes you’re told to wear, go where they say to go when you’re told to go there, do the things they tell you to do. In return, you get the job, the girl, the two-point-five kids, a white picket fence, and a dog. You get to eat three square meals a day, get laid occasionally, and probably enough money to get you everything you need, some of what you want, and a bed to sleep in with a roof over your head. You’re a slave but you’re comfortable.”

“Option B: you get nothing. You get fuck-all and you’ll like it because you’re free. Go where you want when you want and do what you want to do when you want to do it. Comfort means fuck-all because you’ll probably get arrested, get your head kicked in, or both.”

“So my point is do whatever you want to do because I really don’t give a shit, Kid.”

We sat there silently for the rest of the night. There was really nothing more to say.

It was the second night when the New Kid decided that he actually did want to watch something on TV. Scrambled Porn Sally was pole dancing and the fuzzy static bar was right where you didn’t want it to be.

We found the Kid staring and slack-jawed, his nose touching the flickering television screen. His eyes were watering and blood trickled from one nostril.

I shook him out of it and he mumbled a quiet “thank you.” Every so often I’d catch him stealing glances at the television when he thought I wasn’t looking.

If you were still so exhausted that none of that kept you awake, the phone rang and room service cheerfully provided a complimentary wake-up call just as you were nodding off.

Then there were the cock-roaches. Behind one door we found one of the Lost covered in chittering insects. Carnivorous, angry little bastards about three inches long and sporting chitinous dicks.

The moment it was dark the cock-roaches came scuttling out to bite a hole in your skin, pump their nasty bug-dongs in the bleeding orifice, and lay eggs in your flesh. After a few minutes, the cock-roaches deposited a load of eggs and goop into the poor bastard which then burst open and made a new swarm.

Hiding in every nook and cranny, they skittered into hiding beneath the bed and in the closet when illuminated by a flashlight mounted on the barrel of an AR-15.

The New Kid squashed a couple roaches beneath his boot and the rubber sole began to sizzle. “Damn it! That burns like battery acid!” he shouted.

“Then don’t do that.” I calmly said.

On Day Three we found a Damned that swore up and down he’d seen our target. We’d bribed him with a little baggie of black tar heroin that offered a brief respite from his torment, so we felt confident the intel was solid.

We were moving through the darkened hotel hallways, guns at the ready. The Kid was on point with Vasquez watching his back. Felix and Jackie were in the middle while I was behind the squad.

“This scary-ass motel reminds me of that movie ‘Identity’ with John Cusack. You ever see that shit?”

“Is that the one where Cusack delivers a bag to a creepy motel out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Nah, man. That’s ‘The Bagman’ but it did have a creepy motel.” he said.

“Okay, so is Identity the one where Cusack has to stay in a haunted hotel room?” Jackie asked.

“No goddammit, that’s ‘1408.’ Identity is the one where there’s like a dozen people stranded at this motel in the middle of nowhere and they start getting killed one by one.”

“Okay, first of all: why does John Cusack stay in so many scary motels?”

“Typecasting?”

“And secondly, why are we talking about this while we’re standing in the scariest motel ever?”

“Third question.” I interrupted. “Do you two ever shut up?”

We entered Room 303 and finding it completely thrashed, lingered in the doorway. Mattress slashed, threadbare blankets ripped, and every stick of furniture broken. The stench in the room was overpowering. The source was easy to spot; a cadaver lay rotting amid scattered toys on the floor.

“Rock and roll.” Felix said glibly.

We slowly searched the room.

“Dude check this out!” Felix excitedly waved his latest find: a teddy bear stitched together with human skin, complete with male genitals and real eyeballs too. Just looking at it gave me the creeps.

Giggling, Felix waved the bear inches from the Kid’s face. “Come here and let me give you a big old kiss!”

“Ugh, it’s blinking at me.” Jackie said.

“You’re coming home with me little buddy!” He stuffed the doll into his backpack.

We heard a scraping sound inside a large armoire in the corner with the doors shut. Everyone went silent immediately. Vasquez pointed his gun at it.

“Come on out of there slowly, and you won’t get shot.”

There was no noise or movement of any kind in response. Felix sighed before moving very slowly towards the armoire. He pulled the door open quickly, surprising the woman crouched inside. She was covered head-to-toe with bleeding holes from the cock-roaches.

“Climb out of there slowly, with your hands up.” Vasquez said. The woman seemed to comply with Vasquez’s order, her palms open and weaponless.

The Kid hesitated for just an instant when she sprang at him. The woman grabbed his hand, pointing the gun away from herself and he fired out of reflex, the blast ringing in our ears. He tripped over the corpse on the floor, falling backwards. His head hit the floorboards, dazing him momentarily.

She straddled him, clawing his face and howling like a banshee until Jackie stepped forward and bashed the other woman upside the head with the butt of her rifle. The woman collapsed to the floor, clutching her bleeding skull.

“Oh God, don’t kill me, don’t kill me!” she sobbed as she cowered and covered her head with both arms.

“Quiet!”

The woman shut her mouth instantly, but her body visibly trembled and her eyes welled up. Occasionally, tears ran down her face, leaving twin trails on her filthy cheeks.

“Damn guys, isn’t that a little harsh? I mean, look at her. She’s scared and she’s hurt!” said the New Kid.

“Look Kid, I explained this before but let me make it perfectly clear. She isn’t a person deserving of respect and dignity. She’s a very bad person who did very bad things and ended up in a very bad place.” I said.

“Yeah, but-“

“Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the Down Below deserves to be here. No one wakes up down here for being an atheist, or being gay, or for smoking weed when you were sixteen.” I continued.

“Every single person in the Bad Place committed at least one genuine act of pure, unmitigated evil.” I counted off a list on each finger. “Rape, murder, torture. Shoot, I’ve even been on a job to collect a Wall Street banker who stole people’s retirement accounts then blew it on hookers and cocaine.”

“The point is that they did something that caused pain and suffering to others and whatever they did was enough to earn a ticket Way Down to Hadestown.” I pointed to the woman crouched and shaking on the floor. “That includes Little Miss Sunshine here.”

“You try anything like that again, and I’ll shoot your hands off. You run, I shoot your feet. Am I making myself clear?” Jackie said to our target.

“Yes.”

“Is your name Laura?”

“Yes… how…?”

Felix gripped the woman roughly by her chin and held her face up. Vasquez pulled out the centerfold and looked back and forth from one to the other.

“That’s a positive ID on the primary target.” Vasquez said.

“Great, can we get the Hell out of here now?” said the New Kid.

“Goddammit Fucktard, we told you not to say the H-Word!” Felix yelled angrily. He grabbed the Kid by the straps of his flak jacket and shoved him back against the wall.

The New Kid stammered out an apology, but we all knew the damage had already been done. By all rights, we could have abandoned him right then and there. We could have left him to die, but for the time being, we still needed another pair of hands to finish the job.

“We need to get out. Now. We have definitely overstayed our welcome. Bag her up.” I said.

Felix and Jackie grabbed the target by the arms, holding them together and Vasquez locked handcuffs to her wrists. The Kid shoved a black bag over the target’s head despite her protests.

Prize in hand, we made our way out of the motel room just as fast as we could.

----------

At long last we made it to a stretch of blacktop. Abandoned vehicles filled the road and we cautiously threaded our way around them. Each vehicle was rusted or gutted, and most of them had corpses for passengers. The Damned turned their rotting heads to watch us pass, reaching weakly out to grab us.

Dead weeds stuck up wherever they could find purchase in the cracks. We found that the road had been melted, cooled, and reformed. Several Damned had been submerged in the asphalt, arms outstretched as if surfacing from beneath a pool of black oil. Their cries were muffled but still audible. There were impressions left behind in the asphalt after it had released its prizes to the scavengers who came later.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Jackie asked.

“Hear what?” said the New Kid.

“Sounds like something scraping on metal. Listen. It’s coming from over there.”

Obscured by the tinted windows of a camper shell, something moved in the back of a rusted pickup sitting up on cinder blocks. The New Kid crept slowly up to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate.

A sleek, obsidian hound with a human head launched itself out of the back of the truck. Its fur was black and glistening, with a body built for speed like a greyhound but with the face of a man. It opened its disjointed jaw and roared like a mountain lion, revealing rows of serrated shark teeth.

Like a heat-seeking missile, it hurtled itself at the Kid with every intention of clamping its jaws around his throat. He brought his arm up to block the hound’s attack and the beast locked its fang-filled maw around his limb.

The creature snarled, shaking the Kid like a rag doll, intent on tearing his arm off in a gout of blood. Claws tore his clothing, and the Kid screamed in pain as triangular teeth began to puncture holes in the flesh of his arm.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a short length of wood. He scrambled for it in the dust with his left hand while the dog savaged his right arm. The New Kid finally managed to wrap his hand around the sturdy board and brought it down on the canine’s square-shaped head in a sweeping arc. There was a loud crack as the board connected, but he could’ve been smacking it with a flyswatter for all the good it did. He struck the sharkdog in its human-shaped face with the board over and over again. The New Kid tried shoving the end into the monster’s mouth to pry it open, but the beast refused to release his bleeding arm.

The moment I saw an opening I shoved my old Ka-Bar knife right into the side of its head. The beast shuddered and died, collapsing in a heap on top of the Kid. He wiped blood and gore off his face and looked up with bleary eyes.

“Told you not to use the H-Word.” I said.

We stopped beside a rusting Quonset hut for a quick break. Jackie dug around in her backpack for a pack of smokes and her lighter. Felix went to take a leak on the other side of the building.

I took a swig from my canteen. The water in the canteen had a sharp taste of iodine from the purification pills I’d dropped in: not unexpected from reclaimed water, but always tough to stomach.

Vasquez sat the package down beside the Quonset and removed her hood long enough for me to give Laura a drink of water. She gulped it down gratefully before we replaced the hood on her head.

I mentally inventoried the remaining water. We all had plastic bottles in our packs plus had the canteen on my hip. I’d read somewhere that the best place to store water was inside ourselves. While I understood that intellectually, I couldn’t help but be daunted at the prospect of making our way across the desert without any water tucked away for later.

Rations were running low too.

We were still many miles away from an exit Topside, and the Bad Place was always full of surprises.

“Hey Garrett. Got a minute?” Vasquez beckoned me over to the side of the building. “You know what I just realized?” he asked.

“That simultaneous revelations aren’t a thing?”

Vasquez leaned in to whisper in my ear. “We are now standing in the Tollway.”

“Route 666?” I asked.

He nodded. “I didn’t recognize it before because there’s no tollbooth and no signs. But one of us is going to pay the toll. You know who I mean.”

I looked over at the New Kid. He was nursing a knot on the back of his head and his face was still all scratched up from Laura’s fingernails. The New Kid removed the sopping bandage wrapped around his arm. The wound where the sharkdog had bit him was black with infected tissue.

Together, we coldly calculated his chances of survival and came up short.

The New Kid was taking a leak on the side of a rusted Quonset hut while Vasquez and I decided his fate.

Rumbling engine noises heralded the arrival of a flat-black sedan on the horizon. A vehicle of generic make and model, the police cruiser had clearly driven through “You-Know-Where” and come out on the other side.

Jackie and Felix grabbed our target and the five of us hustled behind the Quonset, hiding as quick as we could and praying we weren’t seen. The New Kid wasn’t so lucky. The dumb fuck stood there with his dick in his hands and didn’t notice the police cruiser until it was too late.

The battle-scarred vehicle came to a stop, engine idling. The dented drivers’ side door opened and a bipedal male wearing a khaki uniform emerged from the dark interior of the cab. At first glance he may even have passed for human except that every inch of skin was horribly burnt and mutilated. Steel-toed boots crunched on the gravel as he approached.

The Trooper peered at the Kid through his mirrored aviator sunglasses. One hand rested on the nightstick tucked into his belt.

Unsure what to expect, I kept my hand near my pistol just in case.

“You live around here, boy?”

“No sir. Just passing through and found the place like this.”

“I find out you’re lying to me, we’re going to have a problem, boy.”

“Understood.” Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of scarred flesh beneath his shirt.

“Alright then. Just so long as we have an understanding between us.” The Trooper looked around at the horizon almost as if he’d forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. His gaze settled back on the Kid. “What’s your name, son?”

“My name?”

“Don’t play dumb now.”

Without warning the Trooper pulled a baton from his belt and smashed the Kid with a merciless blow. He doubled over in pain, clutching his belly.

The Trooper loomed over the Kid, lightly smacking the baton in the palm of his palm.

“Looks like you in a heap of trouble here, boy.” the Trooper said with a pronounced Southern accent. He pronounced “here” like “he-ah.”

“You look healthy, don’t have the shakes. No sir, I can tell just from lookin’ at you. You a young man, your back is strong, and you got all your parts in working order, yes sir. You got your whole life in front of you. Seems to me you’ll make a fine slave.”

“You’re gonna dig for us with your bare hands, until your skin is gone, and you dig until your finger bones are worn down to lil’ nubbins. Yessuh, and I’m gonna beat you so bad you’re gonna thank me for the privilege of diggin’.”

The Trooper raised the baton to smash the Kid over the head.

Shots rang out as I unloaded my Glock 9mm into the Trooper’s head, blasting him over and over again. Bullets shattered his aviator shades and tore holes in his khaki uniform before the Trooper fell to the ground. We ran up and Jackie fired her shotgun point-blank into the Trooper’s face before checking on the Kid.

“That seems like overkill, Jackie.” I said with a smirk.

“Overkill is nothing but a word.”

“That stick looks like lacquered hickory but felt like rebar covered in nettles.” The Kid hissed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here. If one Trooper found us, more are on the way.” I said.

The crew hurried into the Cruiser while the target went into the trunk like a piece of luggage.

“Buckle up.”

“I don’t want to.” the New Kid pouted.

That nasally whine was the last straw. Ice water flowed through my veins. It must have showed on my face because when he saw my expression he recoiled.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want. I ain’t your brother, I ain’t your dad. Lately I ain’t even a nice person. If you don’t do what I say when I say I will knock you the fuck out and make it happen. Now buckle the fuck up.”

He buckled up.

I shifted the police cruiser into drive and stomped on the gas. Nothing happened. “No.” I stomped on it again, shouting louder each time. “No, no, no! I do not believe this horseshit!”

“Is it a Ford?” Felix joked.

Aggravated, my forehead hit the steering wheel. The Troopers were bearing down on us fast. I stomped down on the gas out of frustration and the Cruiser lurched forward. Surprised, I looked up and the vehicle died again, whiplashing our necks. “What the-?”

I closed my eyes, gripped the wheel, and stepped on the gas. The Cruiser moved forward slowly.

“Guys, you’re not going to like this.”

An hour later and my heart was still hammering in my chest and I was white-knuckling the wheel. Vasquez sat right beside me, giving me directions as I drove pedal-to-the-metal with my eyes shut tight.

Bullets pinged off our vehicle and I ducked out of reflex. I could barely hear the gunshots over the roaring engines and police sirens.

“Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?!” Jackie screamed inches from my ear. Jackie turned in her seat, firing a few potshots at the other cruiser.

Felix rooted around in the Army surplus duffel bag and pulled a homemade pipe bomb from the bottom. He lit the fuse with a cheap gas station lighter, let it cook for a moment, then lobbed it out the window at our pursuers.

His throw fell short, and the pipe bomb landed in the middle of the road.

Whether it was Luck or Fate or God deciding to finally give us a break, the second cop car drove over top of the pipe bomb, straddling it with all four tires before it went off.

The police cruiser lifted off the ground, bursting into flame and sending two Troopers screaming into oblivion.

“Keep driving, let’s get as many miles away from here as we can before this thing runs out of gas.” Vasquez instructed.

The sun was setting, and already a cold wind was sweeping down from the hills. Within an hour the temperature would drop by fifty degrees. Sleeping in the exposed cab of the police cruiser would prove to be a very uncomfortable option that night.

And the next night.

And the next.

Four of us left the New Kid hogtied and blubbering in the middle of the road. None of us said a word about it, but we all knew our offering was accepted because we found an exit Topside within an hour.

To this day, I don’t know what dragged him screaming into the desert. But the toll had to be paid.

----------

We delivered the package to a seedy film studio on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada. On the soundstage was a set built out of plywood and made to look like a teen girl’s bedroom: painted pink and full of stuffed dolls. Stage lights hung from metal bars where the room’s ceiling should be, and several cameras were aimed at the bed from different angles.

We were escorted by a couple of hired goons. Low-rent thugs with chrome-played Glocks tucked in the waistband of their jeans.

Vasquez led the way past the stage lights and cameras. Jackie and I flanked the package, while Felix rolled behind with a sawed-off shotgun cradled in his lap.

“You know what the worst job here would be?” Felix asked.

“What?” I sighed.

“Janitor. Can you imagine cleaning this place every night? ‘Excuse me sir, can you lift your feet? I’m trying to mop here’.”

“Jesus, Felix.” I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Every night you have to clean it! You can’t imagine the smell!”

“Sure I can.” Jackie retorted. “Like a warm turtle tank probably.”

Felix chortled loudly.

Our customer was a loathsome weasel named Bob Gunkel. He was fat, slowly sliding his way to four hundred pounds. He came out of his office wearing a Hawaiian shirt with huge sweat stains under his pits. He wiped cheese puff dust off his hands, leaving long orange fingerprints on his khakis. The very sight of him made my skin crawl.

“Well? Did you bring her back to me?”

Vasquez pulled the black bag off the package’s head.

“You did it! I have to admit, I had my doubts when I heard you could bring her back but you actually did it!” Gunkel caressed her with his meaty fingers and the expression on his face looked like he was already creaming his pants. She flinched away, but we’d kept the ankle chains and handcuffs on for a reason.

“Laura, sweet Laura, I know I got carried away the last time we were together, but I promise you this time is going to be different!”

Vasquez gripped my arm before I even realized my fist was clenched.

“Sir, not to interrupt, but if you’ll just pay us our fee we’ll be on our way and leave you two alone together.”

“Of course!” He snapped his fingers and one of the goons retrieved a couple of greasy fast food sacks, handing them to Vasquez.

Vasquez checked the paper bags and the wads of cash inside. Jackie and I watched the goon squad to see if their hands moved towards their pistols.

“Are we good?” Gunkel asked.

Everyone held their breath for a moment.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Vasquez said. “Let’s move out, team.”

“You lovebirds have a real nice time now, y’hear!” Felix called on the way out.

Later that night we were sitting in a strip club called Sin Bragas working our way through our second bottle of Don Julio Blanco.

On the asphalt, neon-drenched streets of Topside, we're nothings and nobodies. Between the fast food and taxes, the bad gas station coffee and the past-due child support payments, we’re just pieces of soiled human garbage. In a world of drugs, traffic, radio, politics, smoke and mirrors, we’re little more than dirty, disposable pawns.

Yet amongst the freak show outlaws and leather-clad outcasts, the occult cabals and deranged sickos, the demon summoners, the adrenaline junkies, and conspiracy nuts who make up the heart of the Hades-diving fringe, we’re death-defying, bigger-than-life rock stars.

Every form of fame has its own form of groupies. There are women who sent marriage proposals to Ted Bundy when he was on Death Row, for God’s sake.

Most of us had a scantily-clad woman hanging on an arm or crawling in our lap. Jackie was busy showing off her new tattoo, flexing biceps as big as my head. Her upper arm shined with fresh ink depicting a sexy Devil Girl straddling a black spade with the number “13” in racecar red.

“Well, I gotta go drop the kids off at the pool. Felix said.

Vasquez rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb towards the hallway behind him. Felix rolled his wheelchair to the men’s room. I followed.

When I stepped into the men’s room Felix was pounding on the handicap stall door. “As if my life wasn’t hard enough!” Felix shouted.

I was standing at the urinal when one of the local yokels came in. I recognized him as the hillbilly at the bar telling racist jokes to the stone-faced bartender.

Now, every man knows that there are unspoken rules of men’s room etiquette. When you’re first and there are multiple urinals on the wall, you’re supposed to take the spot furthest from the door. When you come in second, you take the spot furthest from the first guy. What you don’t do, what you never, ever, ever do is stand at the urinal directly adjacent to the first man. That’s a surefire path to an ass-kicking in my book. Of course, this mullet-wearing motherfucker decided to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

“You guys are Hellcrashers, aren’t you?” he asked.

I didn’t respond.

“Dude, you guys just go down to Hell, kick Satan in the balls, and rescue the souls of big-tittied single moms. Man, that’s fucking awesome. “What’s it like being a Hellcrasher, bro?”

“Ever hear the one about the guy who wouldn’t shut the fuck up with his dick in his hand?” I curtly replied without looking at him.

“Um, no?”

I reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of his head then slammed him face-first into the tile. His nose broke and he crumpled like a wet paper sack, hitting his chin on the urinal on the way down to the floor. I hosed him down with the contents of my bladder for good measure.

“That’s what it’s like.”

I was washing my hands when I heard Felix shouting.

“Hey! Can somebody toss me some toilet paper? I’m all out of shit tickets over here!”

I left the club without a word.

#hellcrashers #fiction #Not pathfinder

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer: Long Live the King

Mingfei turned back to me. As he did, the swords, the Seven Deadly Sins, levitated where they had been discarded. Their roars, hissing, and screaming had gone silent. Not even these powerful dragonslaying weapons had the nerve to so much as make a peep before him.

I was unsure of myself. He was smiling, but was he friendly. Did he like me? My knees were shaking and I swallowed hard. 

“It’s time to go!” He said in a bright tone. “We’ve delayed here for pretty long.”

“Cassell’s out there. They’re going to attack you!” I stood up. “Ming...fei...”

He looked at me with laughter in his eyes. “I know.”

He didn’t seem in a hurry or worried. I carefully asked. “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember everything.” He sighed, his smile fading. “But a lot of time has passed and my memories don’t matter.” His voice turned melancholy. “That life... is more of a dream than my life as Mingfei.”

“Which... do you prefer?” I asked, cautiously, hopefully. Maybe even if he was no longer Mingfei, he could still live as a human. Maybe as a celebrity or a politician, the way dragons were kings and sages of the past.

Mingfei crossed his arms thoughtfully, closing his eyes. “I haven’t decided. But now’s not the time to decide.”

He let his arms drop and held out his hand to me. “Come on. Or do you want me to grab you?”

“Where are we going?” I walked over to him and took his hand.

“To handle the problem. Then to pick up my brother.” He then grinned, pulling back his lips to reveal sharp fangs. “I’m glad to have you with me. I always did like an audience.”

He looked up toward the ceiling of the cavern and waved his hand in the air as though swatting a fly. 

In an instant, the dream world collapsed and we were back in the bunker. Chime and Erii lay slumped against the wall, eyes closed as though asleep. I gasped and hurried to go to them, but Mingfei held me back. 

“Leave them. They’re safer down here.”

“What’s wrong with them? Are they hurt?”

Mingfei didn’t answer. His grip tightened around my wrist. His body caught fire, like a blazing meteor and the ceiling above us turned red hot and began to melt away. It felt like I had entered a furnace but the heat was no longer burning me. Mingfei waited until that spire of light pierced the ground to reveal a sky full of brilliant stars. The fire spread into a cross, the cross bar shaped like two wings spreading outward.

Mingfei’s own wings stretched upward and then dropped in a powerful heave, flinging us up and out of the underground bunker. The ground below me fled away and I clung to him, afraid of falling.

The helicopters opened fire immediately. The concussions from the blasts rattled me from all sides for just a moment and then the air went silent.

“Ouroboros. Open your eyes. Look.”

I did. We were surrounded by blazing red. Each projectile was shattering against an invisible barrier maintained by Mingfei’s own will.  Around us a dull grey cloud was spreading like a dense fog and I sniffed the air. “It’s Mercury vapor.” I said.

“It seems that methods haven’t changed in a thousand years.” He muttered to himself.

“Can you keep this up?”

“We’ll see. I’m waiting for them to finish.”

We waited and waited and it wasn’t even slowing down. I looked up into his pale face. The bone armor began to glow pale green. Was Mingfei drawing strength from Fenrir’s remains?

“How long... do you think it will last?” I whispered into his ear.

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.” I whispered again.

“You have no reason to be scared. You’re safe so long as you’re with me.”

I wanted to ask about everyone else. But I didn’t dare. The Seven Deadly Sins, those swords, hovered around me, called through the Dream World and pulled into this reality.

“Ah. I think it’s slowing down.” He hissed through his teeth. “This mercury vapor.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around my waist and soon my ears filled with the roar of the wind, the heavy buffeting sound vibrated the eardrums in my skull. Mingfei was pushing the mercury vapor away.

I turned my eyes to him. I couldn’t even see the dark narrow pupil of his eyes. They glowed bright yellow like lamps. 

As the fog dispersed the helicopter gunships came into view. There were so many, floating and buzzing like angry wasps all of them pointed directly at us. 

“Ah... there’s more.” Mingfei said this as though he were impressed, like this was a performance that had a surprise second act.

There were sniper guns being aimed at us, each one manned by a secret society member in black combat suits. I couldn’t hear them fire over the sound of the wind, but I saw the projectiles they shot.

They were short metal rods, each tipped with what looked like a bright jewel. A sage stone!

The force of their momentum stuck into the bubble of air formed by Minfei before getting pushed back and deflected away. The concentrated energy behind these weapons must have been very powerful, as Mingfei’s brow furrowed with the effort of getting rid of them. The first time I saw him actually show any effort at all.

Mingfei’s body started to smoke. Tongue’s of flame licked out when he sighed. I could sense his mind slipping. He was genuinely getting annoyed.

My heart beat a little faster, not out of concern for myself, but out of concern for all the other people I could see. The pilots in the helicopter. The people behind the guns. They were only doing their jobs. What must they think of us right now?  

We were monsters and they were Ultraman.

They didn’t see Mingfei heal me, or his tears over Fenrir, or his initial intention to kill Mingze. They didn’t see any of that. They just saw Mingfei as a monster.

Mingfei suddenly relaxed. I felt his muscles slacken and I looked in surprise as he smiled. “I can hear your thoughts.”

He squinted at me in a mixture of confusion and amusement. “You know... I remember everything. But you seem to have forgotten already how much they made you suffer. Did they feel sorry for Susie, when they shot her through the heart? Did they care, when your baby cried?”

He left me go briefly and I fell. He caught me by the hand, looking down at me. “I do feel kindly towards humans. Their lives are so short, so they can only see what is directly ahead of them and can only make guesses about the past. So I can’t judge them too harshly most of the time. But thinking back on what you’ve experienced and thinking about your daughter’s future...”

The smile lowered from his face, leaving a cold, blank expression as his voice deepened into an inhuman growl. “Is killing them all really an injustice?”

His arm lifted, powering me upward like a rocket. I looked in horror as every gun left Mingfei and pointed at me.

As I floated there, my upward momentum being slowed by gravity, I was an open target. At any moment, those poison tipped rods would slice through me and there would be no remedy. No amount of Hybrid healing would stop me from shriveling into a husk.

“DEATH”

I was falling but then again, so were the helicopters. I turned and looked through my hair that was flapping in the wind. I caught sight of a pilot, his head limp on his neck, strapped in as his helicopter suddenly dipped down and spiraled towards the ground. Bodies were falling out of the open side door. Equipment fell with them. But there was no opening of a parachute. 

These powerful machines, the entire army of the hybrids -- their bodies were falling like hail stones.

In the movies, when the helicopters landed, it was with fire and explosions. But this was not the movies. The helicopters landed with a tremendous earth shaking bang.

And then there was nothing.

I landed into Mingfei’s arms, shaking so hard I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t take a single breath. I felt dizzy.

I blacked out.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing #Lu Mingfei #Nidhogg

[shellheadtm-a]

know your 616 tony stark - steve rogers edition

originally i was going to group these by groups but the avengers are so large i'm gonna just do...posts for everyone.  especially steve.  there's just too much between these two for me to ever keep it to a blurb, and that relationship is super different in 616 and why is also important.

this is gonna get real long.  strap in.

if you've been here a while you know this story:  so, unlike the mcu, where steve was found and thawed by shield, a newly-formed avengers (consisting of iron man, the wasp, giant man, and thor) went looking for the hulk on a rampage, and happened to stumble across a body floating in arctic waters and pulled it into their sub to have a better look at it.  they didn't expect the dude to be alive, but as he thawed, they realized he was breathing.  more than that, they realized that his clothes - old army olive drabs - had been shredded, and underneath was the red, white, and blue of the fabled wwii war hero, captain america, along with his shield.

sidenote:  tony stark considers this day (canonically) to be the best day of his life.  the day they found steve in the ice is his best memory, his little injured fanboy heart went pitter patter at the very idea of captain america being on their sub and being alive after all that time.

so, to continue our story:  steve woke up and flipped out and had to be subdued before they got him calm down and got to talking, and they decided he was more than welcome to come back to new york with them.  after some adventures of steve's own - the avengers being turned into statues, getting shot, meeting rick jones (professional hero sidekick), finding the alien who turned the avengers into stone, and fighting namor the sub-mariner - steve was made an avenger and the rest is history.

unfortunately, it's...a lot of history.  so let's look at the differences.

iron man and captain america were immediately friends.  there was no animosity there, iron man very quickly became the solid grounding force in steve's life at the time, because iron man was pretty down to earth and charming and funny for a robot (full disclosure, tony kept a secret identity and claimed iron man was his bodyguard).  it's a joke that tony and steve always touch each other unnecessarily all the time always but the reason it's a joke is because it's true.  it started literally immediately after steve got out of the ice.  tony stark gave steve a home in that not only did he open his house on 890 fifth avenue to the steve (it was the avengers' meeting place), he took him on a date tried get up him up to date with the present day.  radiohead is forever going to be an inside joke between them.  no i'm not actually going to explain that.  just know that the band radiohead definitely has a meaning for both them.

the animosity that happens between the two of them is because they both have tempers and are stubborn.  not because they don't like each other.  they love each other, this is fact.  they are literally attached at the hip when they're not swinging at each other, and them swinging at each other is super rare, actually!  tony's one of the people in steve's life that will call him out when he's being stupid about something (the captain america mythos is strong and tony's both not over it and over it - he's come to value steve a hell of a lot more than captain america and he's not afraid to let steve - his best friend - know when he's being a dumbass).  steve makes tony want to do and be better, to be someone steve can be proud of.  they're a duo.  they work best as a united pair and with being on the same page.  they're the mom and dad of the avengers and everyone knows it.  steve's the disappointed gives you a lecture parent, tony's the stand there behind steve and frown and reel steve in when he gets carried away parent.  i'm not even joking a little bit about this, this is what they do.  they're a two man show.

they communicate in looks and finish each other's thoughts and sentences.  it's part because they're part of that generation of avengers teams that were all super close like a family and literally lived together, and part just plain steve and tony.  they do this thing where there can literally be a party going on and everyone else is milling around socializing and they'll have themselves in a corner and talk to each other only, like they're the only people in the room.  they do that in front of other people in other situations.  they fill in the blanks for each other when they talk to other people together.  it's sure as shit a thing you have to witness for yourself.

the nicknames tony gives steve aren't derisive. ��instead, he's a big fan of things like beloved.  captain handsome.  winghead.  he occasionally throws out an old man, but even that's affectionate instead of acerbic.  he likes to talk about how pretty steve's eyes are.  the only times he refers to steve as rogers is when things are literally going to shit between them, which, again, is less often than you think.  tony and steve are best friends.  if they're not speaking, the world is out of balance.  all of these things are part of the tony and steve displays of affection with each other, when including the fact that they are touchy.  like i could literally dig through the comics and find plenty of times where there have been shoulder squeezes, the way they'll guide each other with a hand on the back, neck squeezes.  that's just tony and steve.  it's how they are.  there's normally none of this standoffishness.  they are, in the end, physically and emotionally very close.

they love each other.  however you want to read it, that is fact.  that is canon.  whether you want to look at it as them hovering in some weird space that's more than friends and never taking that last step, as one side being unrequited on a romantic front, as it being strictly platonic, whatever.  they still love each other.  it's not some tsundere thing, literally everyone knows they care a lot about each other.  like a lot of you know, a lot of you are new, but some of you may not be aware of how during civil war, steve literally died in 616.  well.  not literally.  more like got forced through time but for all practical purposes he was dead.  and tony immediately fell the fuck apart.  couldn't even give steve's eulogy, he broke down right there at the podium.  if you've never read the confession, you should, that's about as solid of a love confession as you're ever actually gonna see, probably, of tony sitting in a room with steve's body sobbing his heart out explaining his reasoning for what he's done.  because steve's death is the one thing!  he cannot live with.  and he is a mess until he goes on his brain delete world tour.  there's a whole secret funeral with just tony, jan, and hank (well, skrull-hank but they think it's hank), the last of the original avengers still standing, where they found steve in the ice.  just...he was a mess.  and it didn't get better at all for a...super long time.  (they're in a much better place with each other again finally and it's good to see and i love my boys.)

when they fight it's usually due to hurt feelings on both sides because they are both shit at using their words.  and tony's usually the guilty party that's been lying.  lying is a defense mechanism for tony.  it's something he's trained himself to do after years of abuse.  which is kinda funny (in a sad way) because steve actually had a Not Great Childhood with an abusive alcoholic father, too, they just coped in two separate directions.  but tony likes to hide things, pretend like everything is great, everything is peachy, he can do it On His Own, and steve gets angry, every single time, because together things might have turned out differently, and also there's some jealousy occasionally mixed into that (read: finding out about the illuminati) and they just...they're very intense.  their relationship is very intense.  and they can argue and fight and disagree on all kinds of things but at the end of the day...tony still loves steve, and steve still loves tony.

steve is tony's moral rudder.  this isn't me talking shit, tony literally says so.  steve is tony's north star, the one he follows to guide him in the right direction.  what would steve rogers do is literally his mantra.  and this isn't a new thing, tony's been a cap fan from when he was very small.  he has an entire collection of captain america memorabilia that he's been gathering since before he ever became iron man.  so it definitely predates him meeting steve for real.  he decorates with steve's face (okay, and the other avengers, too, there's always plenty of artwork and photos of the teams hanging on the walls).  he keeps a picture of steve in his office the way most people do their significant others.  he just really loves and admires steve a whole lot, and it's only intensified in the time they've known each other and been friends, and steve's friendship is literally the most important thing in the world for tony, period.  even when they disagree.  especially when they disagree.  and tony would trade his life for steve's without even thinking.  has tried to.  the red zone story arc is a prime example, because tony willingly exposed himself to a biochemical agent that worked as flesh eating bacteria on steroids to give steve mouth to mouth to keep him alive, essentially thinking he was trading his own life for steve's and being fine with that decision because "captain america's more important than you."  obviously they both survived, but nothing hurts more than seeing steve cradle tony's head in his lap while tony's dying, knowing tony willingly exposed himself for steve.

tony would probably have left the avengers ages ago if not for steve.  he'd have let the dream die after avengers disassembled (which, for the unfamiliar, is when wanda destroyed the mansion and house of m happened and some of the team died and tony just didn't have the money to rebuild and keep them going).  steve basically gently bullied him into starting a team with him after the breakout at the raft (a bunch of superpowered criminals got loose).  he definitely wasn't going to join again after siege and reluctantly let steve talk him into it (even though i think a break there would have been good for him).  he built the avengers machine for steve, to center around steve, because i believe he fully intended to either not survive or to in some way no longer be a part of the avengers.  he let steve and thor talk him into starting another new team (the current one).

for tony, steve is the important part of captain america.  and it's been that way since they first became friends.  steve constantly amazes him, makes him want to try harder, live up to who steve thinks tony is.  he stumbles a lot, he's only human, but steve's opinion of him is so, so important, and when they're on the outs tony's whole world just falls apart.  but more than that, steve's not just...he's not the serum to tony.  steve could be deserumed and scrawny and have a host of health issues like he once did and it wouldn't matter a single fucking bit to tony, steve will still be steve for him, because it's not captain america that's made steve a hero, it's steve that's made captain america a beacon of hope.  that's all steve.  and tony will also do everything in his power to get steve what he needs, help him when he needs it, will drop literally everything immediately to do anything steve asks.  the rules tony may have in place with other people do not apply to steve.  the exoskeleton he built steve, when the serum was failing and steve was basically dying, broke all of tony’s rules about his tech, and he did it willingly, without a second thought, because it was for steve.  the idea of someone ever telling steve the only thing that makes him special came out of a bottle would have tony ready to fucking fight.

tony knows all the little things about steve you typically do know about your best friend.  the bagel thing always comes up, so you know.  tony absolutely knows steve's favorite bagel flavor.  they can probably recite the way they both take their coffee by heart without thinking about it.  dean harassed me with it like at some point earlier, but there's a thing samnee did that was basically the steve and tony dynamic in a nutshell.  i mean ffs, folks, tony literally.  canonically.  has stolen clothes from steve, he's absolutely got one of steve's blue with the white star tshirts.

in retrospect this all sounds way, way less than platonic but i literally cannot make this shit up.

point is:  in this case, steve is probably his most influential and important relationship.  i'm not saying at all that there aren't others that have their own extreme importance; there are.  rhodey, carol, pepper, happy, nat, clint, thor, bruce, all the people you know from the mcu are all very important to him.  but steve and tony are...intense.  very intense.  and at the same time so absolutely effortless when they're not opposed on the important things.  steve is tony's best friend, full stop.  if tony possibly feels more than that...well, you're allowed to draw your own conclusions?  but uh.  intense.  they act as one another's anchor, they're home.

#constant //: ( about ) #file //: ( captain america :: steve rogers ) #long post #long post for ts #// i realize reading over this that yeah #// yeah #// if you don't think tony's in love with steve you just #// haven't been paying attention #// no matter what you may think steve feels #// tony's gone #// has been gone for years #// and that's never going away #// it's kinda sad really #// but regardless #// steve is so important to tony #// he can function without being a moon to steve's sun #// but he doesn't do it well #// they both work best in a team #// when they present a united front #array //: ( queue )

[gaiatheorist]

Atypical/Elliptical.

There was a tweet highlighted yesterday by one of the Neuro-Divergent accounts I follow, building pace on the back of a compare/contrast photo of an autistic female, and an autistic male. If you haven’t seen it, you can guess how it went, she’s all cute and ‘sailor suit’, he’s in a cluttered room, overweight, in food-stained clothing. Lazy stereotyping at best, offensive and dangerous in reality. The dangerous tweet I reported was one from a contentious incel, stating that females don’t have autism, further down the page of “Would you like to report any other tweets?”, we have that other old favourite “Autism isn’t real.” Yes, I’m shaking my head.

I’m not going to go into in-depth analysis of incel beliefs and values, I’ll just hover over the suggestion that this particular variant was whipping up his followers that ‘Women don’t have autism’, based on his interpretation that the female whose picture he was using was conventionally attractive, and neatly presented. If you tell someone the sun’s 93 million miles away, they accept it, but if they see a sign saying ‘wet paint’, they feel compelled to put their finger in it to check, then complain that they have paint on them. (I know, I don’t touch wet paint, I lick it, it keeps life interesting.) ‘Everybody knows’ that a common feature with autism is the special interest, that we will fixate obsessively on a certain topic, or subject, and woe betide any mere mortal who can’t escape before we get into full flow, what with us not always picking up on non-verbal cues, like snoring. It’s entirely possible that the ‘girl’ had a special interest of dressing and presenting herself in a certain way, even ‘normal’ people do that, hanging their entire identity on presenting a certain way, designer clothes, certain styles of dress, Angry Bird eyebrows. Step back, and absorb that, the girl wasn’t ‘properly’ autistic because she didn’t have food in her hair, wasn’t wearing a Star Trek uniform, looked ‘normal’. Specifically, she looked the kind of ‘normal’ that incels have experience of being rejected by, because they expect to have nice-things handed to them on a plate, and then blame everyone else when they’re denied. There’s a certain example of a petulant, pouty individual, who sulks when they don’t get their own way floating to mind.  

Using the newfangled terms neuro-divergent, and neuro-typical, and pausing just for a second to point out that no, we’re not ‘all a bit autistic’ any more than we’re a ‘bit vegetarian’ or a ‘bit left-handed’, neuro-typical people are assumed to be the norm, anything else is deviant. I’ll hold my hands up to that, I don’t iron my laundry, or peel my vegetables, you can stop clutching your pearls, I’m not going to steal them, what would I want pearls for? People with neurodevelopmental disorders are atypical, outsiders, outliers, ‘other’, and it’s more than a little annoying that ‘everyone knows’ that, specifically autistic people, have a tendency to see themselves as different from others. (You started it, telling us we were wrong and weird for our plethora of sensory aversions, and routines, just because they don’t make sense to you.) We’re atypical, whether that’s because we’re genuinely distressed if our ‘usual’ brand of socks, or cereal, or soap is discontinued, or because we won’t cross the road if the light isn’t green, even if there’s nothing coming. Other examples are available. 

I’ve spent vast chunks of my life being bounced between “Why are you doing it like that?” and “HOW do you do that?”, I don’t have any savant-skills, but I’m on an elliptical axis, I do some things differently. (The axis isn’t just elliptical, it’s occasionally highly irregular, I have multiple other medical issues, autistics are often blessed like that, to the untrained eye, it might appear I’m neurotic, or hypochondriac, or do my shopping on NHS direct. I’m an unfortunate combination of chromosomes and chronology.) You neuro-typical types bimble along happily enough on your spherical orbits. Yes, you have spikes, too, I know, but it seems that they’re the exception rather than the rule, your orbits appear far more regular than mine. I’m deviating from all-autistics, to ‘me’, there are common factors, but we’re not a one-size-fits-all contingent, I don’t get upset if different types of food touch on my plate, but I can’t use oven-gloves, and I’ll go all day without a drink of water rather than share a drinking vessel, we’re all different. 

I’m sometimes envious of the spherical orbit, the regularity of being able to remember to prepare and eat three meals a day, not being afraid of bridges, being able to choose a direction and travel in it without sensory overload, it might as well be necromancy or Olympic level athleticism, it just isn’t ‘there’ for me. When my orbit is within ‘yours’, I’m highly efficient, that’s the “HOW do you do that?” phase. I just do. There isn’t really much of an alternative, but it’s not very healthy, I have all of your weird scripts and rules tumbling around my head, like that stage where you’re learning a new language, everything has to be double-processed, and checked, it’s clunky, not fluent. I’m 43, and I still don’t dream in your language, I can concentrate for periods, but remembering all of the verb endings tends to kick the tenses out of the window, we’re no longer congruent, and I don’t make sense to you. 

When I’m within your orbit, I take short-cuts, as verbose as I am here, I omit the unnecessary, because I don’t have the cognitive or physical energy for all of it. I’m a flat-pack item of furniture, I don’t need ‘all’ those screws and fixings to be functional, do I? I unintentionally infuriate and antagonise, because I don’t want to stop for a cup of tea, or chat about TV programmes, I want to complete the task set, before I run out of energy. (I know, but the externally imposed sanctions for non-completion generally have a ripple-out impact on others. My intense bursts of activity alienate other people, because they want to slow down, and chat, but that’s not the task in hand, and I know that my brain and body are temperamental, I *need* to finish within time, and properly, in case I’m less-functional the next day, I always stacked/banked work to make sure I was ahead of myself, to avoid letting other people down if I was ill.) 

When our orbits converge, it’s phenomenal, on a ‘work’ level, a life-admin level, or, that holiest of Grail, an interpersonal level, those brief instances are stellar, apart from me freaking people out by my intensity sometimes, I’m an acquired taste. I’m really good at some things, a large proportion of which have yet to demonstrate a particularly useful potential, but there’s time yet. I’m steering very firmly away from the lazy stereotypes of ‘special talents’, I’m resilient and resourceful because I have to be, I often view things from an alternative perspective, and connect-the-dots that others don’t. I still can’t use oven-gloves. 

When my orbit swings outside yours, it’s difficult, sometimes impossible for aims to be reconciled, That’s the kick in the teeth on a regular basis, last week, or last month, or yesterday, or earlier today, I might have been functional, or even brilliant, then, all at once, I’m not. “You were fine yesterday!”, yes, I know, I was there. 

Chromosomal and chronological factors sometimes spin me out of orbit. I might have been able to walk to Tesco one day last week (Coincidentally, I wasn’t, but that’s not the point.), that doesn’t mean I can do it every day, it’s a cross-over complexity with my telephone directory of other ailments, as well as the autism. When I’m out of orbit, whether it’s sensory overload, burnout, or just my day-to-day ‘wrongness’, I process differently. A ‘normal’ action, like parking a car (I don’t know why I use driving analogies, I’ve never taken my test.) becomes a pantomime of a driving test, where the instructor speaks a foreign language, it’s an unfamiliar car, on unfamiliar roads, and the car’s on fire, and full of wasps, with an angry pig in the back seat. I don’t have muscle memory, or subconscious competence for a lot of functions people take for granted, not just oven gloves, sometimes events conspire to throw me out of spherical orbit, and everything becomes far more complicated than it needs to be. The elliptical orbit makes ‘just’ my ultimate four-letter word, and I know plenty of others. Some instances of being out-of-orbit are predictable, sensory overloads, other illnesses, compounded difficulties around other life-events, my toe having poked through my sock, and being strangled in my boot, it can feel like being an adult-sized toddler, and the temptation to throw down and scream on the supermarket floor because I’m tired is an unwelcome, but regular occurrence. 

“Oh, we all get like that sometimes! Can’t you just...?” If I could have ‘just’, I would already have ‘just’, wouldn’t I? 43 years of having been chastised for being difficult, or ruining everyone else’s picnic feed very firmly into the ‘masking’ phenomenon. Charlatans and snake-oil sellers, and Gwyneth Paltrow, as well as even more insidious practitioners are always trying to promote some thing or another that will make us fitter, healthier, more productive, then, to continue the Radiohead theme, many medical types throw back “You do it to yourself.”. 

Autism is a lifelong developmental disorder. I can’t consistently ‘try to be less like that’ any more than I can try to be less right-handed, or biologically female. (Yes, I *could* attempt to alter both of those, but to what end?) I’ve had a lot of medical interventions since the brain aneurysm ruptured, and 99% of them have tried to un-autistic me. That’s normal, because autism is abnormal. It’s also normal because autistic females broadly present differently to males. Broadly, I have observational experience from working in education, the ‘old’ perspective was that boys were more frequently autistic than girls, and, more-autistic. Slight tangent on the common misconception of the autistic spectrum, if I may? “We’re all a bit autistic, haha!”, no, no, we’re not, any more than we’re all a bit epileptic. The autistic spectrum isn’t a continuum-spectrum, from 0-100% autistic, while it is clear that some people are severely autistic, and others are not, it isn’t actually a point-scoring exercise, unless you’re UK benefits agencies.

Males and females are conditioned and socialised differently, after millennia of girls-do-this-boys-do-that, humanity is cautiously asking why. I’ll leave my wonky femininist soapbox under the desk, apart from the fact that females are ‘supposed to’ be quiet, and kind, and compliant, and all the gubbins that the incels say. I’m 43, I was raised pink-for-girls-blue-for-boys, there were a lot of things Girls Didn’t Do, it’s OK, I’ve done most of them now, don’t tell my Dad. Much like left-handed children in days gone by were forced to write with their right hand, there has been, and still is, to some extent, pressure on males and females to behave differently, as if keeping our reproductive paraphernalia in a more-or-difficult-to-kick location is an absolute-for-everything. I don’t think it is, but we’ve already established I’m atypical. Not all 40-something-year-old people, with, or without autism had the same childhood experiences I did. There’s no place for detail here, some of the embedded lessons weren’t kindly taught. That Pavlovian response system stuck, be quiet, be pleasant, be demure and train that flinch into a smile. (Various parties ought to apply for funding for having ‘tamed’ this particular shrew. I’m not tamed, I’m barely even domesticated, but I have a shed-load of coping mechanisms.) 

Females shouldn’t feel the need to be less-than, to defer to males, but, in a disturbing number of arenas, that’s the norm. I spent the largest part of my life being afraid of men, because of what some men had done, and hating myself for holding a belief that was anathema to the absolute core of my being. (Chapter whatever, fundamentally knowing that males were not ‘better’ than females, but feeling obliged to concede, to avoid disturbing the peace.) The #MeToo disclosures and discourse picked that metaphorical scab, I’ll never go back to that half-life.

I’m atypical because, after decades of excruciating path-of-least-resistance masking, I’ve managed to mask proficiently to a point where I can ‘act normal’ for short stretches. I shouldn’t have to. I’m not suggesting I should be allowed to climb on top of the curtain poles, and throw things, but I don’t see why not-acting-feminine should be seen as disturbing or threatening. It hurts, not just the bras, and the stupid shoes, and the sitting-all-cramped-up, but the emotional and physical toll of carrying oneself ‘female’. When I had the full spectrum cognitive functioning assessment after the brain injuries had settled, the neuro-psych pointed out that a consideration was always ‘At what cost?’. The popular analogy for physical or cognitive energy is a ‘battery’ (A cell, doofus, a ‘battery’ is a number of cells together- behold, I’m reaching my cranky-pedantic cut-off stage.) In order to do anything at all, you need enough ‘charge’ to complete the task. Yes, given, BUT, with autistic masking, there isn’t just the ‘charge’ for the task, there’s the additional charge involved in keeping everything else running, without breaking down, or burning out, the energy overdraft. I’m virtually constantly in my ‘overdraft’, and it’s a bitch to pay back. 

I’m elliptical because I frequently swing inside, or outside a typical orbit, I can be ‘miles ahead’ at some points, but ‘miles behind’, and struggling to keep up at others, it’s not a reliable pattern, I can’t predict all of it, and I am SICK of well-meaning “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself!”. I’m rarely being ‘hard’, I’m usually being practical, if I do x and y on one day, I won’t be able to do z as well. (”Don’t call yourself disabled!” can be a blog for another day.) 

This has been an attempt for me to shake myself out of a fog of not-writing. Autism is opaque and oblique, it can be brilliant at times, when things ‘click’, but it’s almost-always difficult to articulate in a way that’s palatable, let alone digestible, I know, it sticks in my own throat enough. The ‘experts’ trot out their theories, sometimes without consultation, and the organisations that set out to ‘cure’ us are pedaling the myth that autism is a disease. It’s not, it’s a divergence. Take this as ‘A Portrait of This Autist’, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I do think it’s important to speak.                

#Autism

[areiton]

whatever it takes

Square: K2 Accidental Villainy 

Title: whatever it takes

Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker

Warnings: Dark fic, moral ambiguity, dark Peter Parker 

Summary: 

When things are quiet and calm and empty, his mind turns where it always does—to Tony. To the gaping hole where he should be. And to the little thorn of knowledge. He takes a shuddering breath, and goes to the workshop.

Read on AO3

~*~ 

For a while, the world is too insane for him to think about it. It’s there, digging like a thorn in the back of his mind, but there’s Europe and MJ and fucking Mysterio and his bullshit to sort through, and then—when the dust settles and he’s on the quinnjet home with Happy and Ned, when he’s talked to MJ about why this isn’t going to work out, when he’s home and has given Morgan and May and Pepper hugs and explanations, when he’s tucked Morgan into bed and spent most of the night watching her sleep—

When things are quiet and calm and empty, his mind turns where it always does—to Tony. To the gaping hole where he should be.

And to the little thorn of knowledge.

He takes a shuddering breath, and goes to the workshop.

~*~

He doesn’t tell anyone.

That makes it harder—but he isn’t stupid, know damn well that Fury would shut him down. Pepper would look at him with those big, tragic eyes and tell him this isn’t what Tony wanted. May would worry—they’d all worry, wrap him in her arms, suffocating, and he can’t handle that, can’t handle anything but the work.

He doesn’t tell anyone, and he thinks that probably means something. Probably means he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He doesn’t care, is the thing.

Mr. Stark deserved to live. He deserved his family and peace and rest. He saved the world and he should have lived.

And Peter is going to fix it.

~*~

It takes him almost a year to get it right, to work out the physics and magic and tech to open a door to the multiverse.

May worries. He knows she does, sees it in her eyes, when he bothers to go home. He doesn’t, much—it’s easier to stay in the workshop, pass out on the couch and let the bots cover him. There’s food and he leaves to go to classes, to patrol, before he’s right back here, working feverishly working on fixing things. It takes him almost a year, to get it right.

And then he opens a door.

~*~

Mysterio said—he hates him, hates what he did to them, in Europe, hates that for a few breathless moments, while Beck kissed him, he’d forgotten the numbing pain of losing Tony—that it was a gamble. That you couldn’t ever tell, what world you’d open up into.

It’s one of the reasons why the multiverse was so dangerous.

Peter gambled.

~*~

When you open a door—it opens both ways.

He could go through—but other things could come in.

Peter thinks, as he fights a giant fucking squid oozing through the Upper East Side alongside Rhodey, this is worth it.

Opening doors, exploring the other worlds—it’s worth it.

~*~

Sometimes, nothing comes through. Sometimes, he slips into the other world and he finds Tony.

It always breaks his heart.

Because there is a Tony Stark for every world and some he’s dead, and some he’s still making weapons, his hands soaked in blood. He is Ironman and a businessman, a mechanic in Tennessee, a single father, a lonely drunk, happily married. He is a professor and a CEO and one memorable world, the long-suffering assistant to Miss Pepper Potts, running Potts Industries while Pep slept her way through the socialites of New York.

And there are the worlds, where Tony loves Peter.

~*~

“Peter,” May says, gently. “You should get out of the lab.”

“I’m working,” he says.

“Morgan misses you,” Pepper tells him.

It’s not a recrimination—but it stings. Because, “I’m doing this for Morgan.”

They stare at him, big brown eyes and worried blue. “Doing what, sweetheart?” May asks, gently.

~*~

He’s in a world where Tony and Peter are engaged. It’s painfully similar to his own—Spiderman and Ironman, SI and all the rest. Thanos didn’t come here, and Pepper never came back to Tony after the fallout with Cap and Co.

It’s only Peter and Tony and for a moment, watching them, watching how happy they are—he thinks about it.

Thinks about slipping in and taking his other self’s place.

It would be easy. Easy.

And he would be so happy.

His fingers itch, and he takes a half-step toward his other self—and then his thoughts catch up with him and he makes a noise, broken in the back of his throat, and bolts, swinging up and away and back to his world.

~*~

“You’re playing with fire,” Fury says. He’s in the lab, his eye sharp and cold. The bots are unnaturally still, around him, quiet and hovering behind him, almost afraid. It makes Peter irrationally angry. He’s tired and hungry and his side is still aches from getting into a fight in the last world he visited—a world ruled by Hydra, where the Winter Soldier was a revered state hero and Ironman a wanted fugitive.

“I’m shutting you down,” Fury says, abruptly, when Peter doesn’t say anything in response. “You can’t just go wandering through the multiverse, Parker—you’re tearing holes in reality.”

Peter doesn’t any anything. There isn’t anything to say, not that Fury will listen to.

“Have you even seen what you’re letting in? There were three attacks from some Godzilla looking fuckers last week, and a goddamn Winter Soldier came through the week before that—Barnes had a helluva a time fighting his own damn self.”

“I don’t care,” Peter says, stubbornly.

“You don’t care. Boy, you have to care. You’re endangering the world you swore to protect.”

Peter smiles at that—it’s not a friendly smile. “I didn’t swear shit, Director.”

Fury makes a wordless noise of anger, takes a half step toward him—

And Peter moves.

~*~  

He leaves the body in a world that’s full of darkness and iron spiders—it disturbs him, but distantly, and he slips back into his world while the metal clatter of legs

~*~

Peter wonders, standing in the back of the debriefing, with everyone tense and worried and arguing over Fury’s disappearance—he wonders how far he will take this.

How much he will sacrifice.  

He knows the others are worried—Rhodey and Sam keep looking at him like he’s fragile, and Winter watches him with narrow, knowing eyes. Strange avoids his gaze entirely. He wonders—is there a line?

One he won’t cross to get Tony back?

Is there anyone who he wouldn’t eliminate, to get Tony back?

Peter looks at the room full of heroes, and the answer makes him shiver.

~*~

The world is dark. Peter looks at it, sometimes, from the Tower that Tony left to him, and he thinks—it’s flawed. Not quite whole. There are holes in it, dark spaces where other worlds seep in.

“This world doesn’t deserve you,” he whispers. “It’s broken. It doesn’t deserve what you gave.”

Lightning cracks across the sky, bright and jagged and lighting up a world he doesn’t quite recognize.

~*~

“Please,” May murmurs. She cleans  his hands—they sting, oozing black sludge seeping into the cuts from where it clings to his suit. It’s acidic, and he thinks, idly, that it’s going to suck if a hole opens from that world.

He thinks, maybe, he should tell Sam or Rhodey—someone.

Warn them.

“Please stop, Pete. You have to see what you’re doing.”

“I’m close,” he says.

She looks at him, and her gaze is so sad it makes him ache. “You have to let him go.”

Fear and fury dance down his spine and he looks at her. “Tony wouldn’t want this,” she almost begs.

Her grip is tight, tight, tight, on his hands, holding him still, and her heartbeat is pounding in her throat. “What did you do,” he whispers.

“Peter,” she tries. He shoves her from him, bolting toward the lab.

There are three of them—T’Challa and Ant-man and Wasp, and he feels a pang of regret—his suit forms around him, and he murmurs, “Activate instakill,” a moment before he attacks.

T’Challa goes down easy, startlingly easy, and he sees surprise on Hope’s face, an instant before his electric webbing wraps around her shrinking body and she goes down, twitching and smoking. Scott—Scott is harder, and bloody and he limps away from it.

But in the end—they’re dead, and he—he isn’t. The portal is untouched. He sighs, intoxicating relief, and goes back to May.

~*~

He doesn’t understand, completely.

She’s crumpled, a cut strings doll, sprawled on the ground. Her skull is dented in on one side, blood pooling and eyes vacant and he remembers, abruptly, pushing her in his panic, her startled cry and the sound of her hitting something.

He crouches next to her, and his eyes sting, familiar grief clogging his throat.

“Why’d you have to help them,” he asks. “Why’d you gotta do that, May?”

He holds her, blood soaking his knees and his suit and turning his fingers sticky and thick.

~*~

He's tired. He slips in and out of worlds, but none are right, none are his Tony and he is so tired. Sometimes, he wonders if they're right--if he can't do it.

If he should let go, move on.

He does--for three nights, he lets the portal lie closed and dark, chases demons down alleyways and rescues innocents.

And it cuts, deep and insistent, under his skin. The need to go looking. The need to find Tony. To bring him home.

He ignores it for three nights.

And then he goes back, blows the portal wide and goes looking for Tony.

~*~  

Winter watches him. "It's dangerous. What you're doing."

Peter doesn't bother dying it. He just watches Winter, as assessing as the assassin.

"Will you stop, when you find him?"

Peter nods, vigorous and earnest and Winter gives him a final look.

“I will keep them from you--but you stop. When it is done and he is home--you stop. And it never hurts Sam.”

Peter doesn’t agree--but Winter slips out, and he thinks--we all have someone we would destroy the world for.

Winter just told Peter his.

It is enough.

~*~

Once--purely by chance and accident, he stumbles upon Mysterio’s world. It gleams golden and green, and he stays there for a heartbeat, two, three--and Tony smiles at him from the mist.

He smiles, and it’s the one Peter remembers, warm and fond and inviting him to laugh at the rest of the world.

Peter aches with want, the urge to go throw himself in Tony’s arms so strong it’s a physical pain.

He remembers, though--Uncle Ben smiling at him in Venice and Mysterio killing Flash.

He bolts through the portal, and hides, shaking and scared, in Tony’s empty bed for hours.

~*~

He’s in the kitchen, when he hears a small gasp. A broken little noise that makes him twist around, a piece of toast dangling from his fingers.

Tony is standing in the doorway. He is pale and his eyes are wide, and his hands shake as he stumbles forward a step. “Pete,” he whispers, and that tone.

Peter knows that tone, knows the desperate hope and hunger in it, has heard it every time he’s whisper, “Tony?” in a world that wasn’t his, to a Tony that wasn’t his.

He catches Tony as he falls, holds him close, inhales the scent of him that is just like he remembers, and he kisses his hair as Tony whispers, frantic and desperate, “I found you. I found you. I found you.”

~*~

“I died,” Peter says, later. He’s fed Tony, dressed him in clothes that fit perfectly. Catalogued the minor differences--the lines around his eyes, the hand that is scarred and shaking, the gray at his temples and scars on his arms, when he shoves his sleeves up. “Didn’t I?”

Tony nods, helpless. Still staring at Peter like he’s seeing a ghost, or maybe just something precious that he’d given up all but the wildest of hopes of ever seeing again.

“How long?” Peter asks.

“Two years,” Tony rasps.

Peter closes his eyes. He can’t even imagine that. It’s been nine months since his Tony died on that battle field--and every moment has felt like an unending agony.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs and Tony is suddenly there, kissing him, and it’s desperate, frantic and hard, biting and rough and demanding, almost begging Peter to be real, to be his, and Peter--Peter sighs and yields, and gives him what he’s always wanted to give Tony Stark.

Everything.

~*~

Tony stands naked at the window, after, staring at the city, sprawled below. Peter watches him, his body delightfully sore and spent and sticky. “You didn’t do as much damage to your world,” Tony says, softly. “Did you have to eliminate anyone?”

Peter briefly wonders who Tony killed, to keep searching for him. He nods and doesn’t ask. Some things are better not discussed, he thinks.

“Do you want to stay?” Tony asks.

Peter thinks of the worlds he’s seen. The ones of fire and acid and ironspiders, the one where Winter ruled and the one where a blue eyed Tony laughed at him and called him pet.

He thinks of the one where Ironman and Spider-man were not needed, where peace was real and not a fleeting dream.

He thinks of everything he’s ever wanted and how very tired he is.

“I want to be with you,” he says, because peace is enticing--but he has killed for this man. He has torn universes apart, for him.

Tony smiles and it feels like coming home.

#tonystarkbingo2019 #starker #tony stark x peter parker #dark fic #arei writes fic

[barb-aricyawp]

Hi! Can I request number 10 for Bucky please. And if you want, can it involve Brock Rumlow (only if you're feeling that of course)

Hell yeah we can exploit Bucky’s phobias!

(for torture tuesday)

trigger warnings: insects; bees; hornets; wasps; brief mention of: spiders, snakes, and heights

Nothing much gets through to the Winter Soldier. The guy just isn’t afraid of anything. Which Brock Rumlow finds nothing short of disappointing.

Just last week, Rumlow sealed the guy in a tank full of spiders—hundreds and hundreds of motherfucking spiders—and the Soldier did nothing. Just stood there, blinking at Rumlow. Waiting.

The fuck is that about?

Rumlow has tried snakes—a pit of vipers squirming over each other and the Soldier—he’s tried rats, drowning, confined spaces…hell, Rumlow even convinced a private to dress as a clown and…nothing.

Nada. Zilch. The Winter Soldier is, quite frankly, afraid of nothing.

Rumlow’s even tried heights which, given the Soldier’s boo hoo history, should have been a gimme. But dangling him over the edge of a skyscraper face first, was just plain boring. All the Soldier did was stare down into the abyss below. As if the fall was inevitable.

So, Rumlow was more or less certain that the Winter Soldier has the fear totally tortured out of him. As far as Rumlow was concerned, the guy was the emotional equivalent of brain dead. He figured that his limbic system was basically powered by a potato.

Until one day, after a successful Winter Soldier mission, a miracle happened. That miracle was a bumblebee floating into the debriefing room.

Looking back on it, Rumlow should have thought of it first.

While three STRIKE agents argued over whether to slaughter or liberate the bee, Rumlow watched the Winter Soldier.

It was nearly imperceptible, the way the Winter Soldier sat ramrod straight. The clench of his fists. The way he kept his eyes trained on the bumblebee, even after the agents trapped it in a jar.

Nearly imperceptible, but Rumlow saw all of it. Including the fear in the whites of the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Gotcha.

—-

Rumlow is giddy as he straps the Winter Soldier to the chair. He can’t help but chatter to him while he tightens the straps around his wrists and calves.

“Is it anything black and yellow, or does it have to have a stinger?” Rumlow asks, buckling his metal arm in three different places. “You know what, don’t answer that.”

There is a line of opaque jars on the table behind them. Four of them. Rumlow takes up one of these jars now and unscrews it.

“Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”

He rests the lip of the jar against the Winter Soldier’s bare arm. Three honeybees crawl out and the Soldier instantly flinches back. Sheer terror unleashes over his face. The same straight spine. The same clenched fists.Rumlow can’t help but laugh at the Soldier’s terror. This guy can get shot in the kneecap and not bat an eye, but now he’s hyperventilating over a fuzzy buzzy honeybee? What’s more, Rumlow looked honeybees up the night before, and they rarely sting.

The Soldier doesn’t seem to know this. Not based on the way his eyes stay locked on their slow crawl up his skin. Not based on the way his breath quickens, and fingers quiver. Even the metal hand is shaking.

Delighted, Rumlow unscrews the second jar. Bumblebees, five or six of them, float out. They are enormous, the size of quarters, and they don’t escape the Soldier’s attention.

Two of the honeybees fly up to join them. The third rests in the hollow of the Soldier’s elbow, where the skin is thin and delicate. His eyes flick up to the bumblebees, then they go straight back to the honeybee. Paralyzed with fear. Rumlow can make out a faint tremor of the tendons in the Soldier’s arm

The bumblebees hover closer, curious, and the Soldier grits his jaw. And though bumblebees aren’t often aggressive, their loud buzzing must wreak havoc on the Soldier’s fear.

He’s twitching in his chair, trying to stabilize his breathing and failing. Rumlow couldn’t be more pleased.

Next up is the vespers, the ones that Rumlow is most excited for. The third jar is jam-packed with wasps. Mean little fucks that can sting repeatedly just for the joy of stinging. 

Rumlow gives them a shake before resting the open jar between the Winter Soldier’s legs.

A mass of yellow and black insects swarm from the jar and crawl up the Soldier’s thighs. Even Rumlow can admit that the contrast of yellow creeping over the dark tactical pants is scary. Especially when they start sinking in their stingers.

“Why bees, I wonder,” Rumlow says as he plucks up the fourth and final jar. He shakes it, feels the hard bodies of the hornets inside knocking against the glass. This jar is the largest, a whole nest’s worth of angry hornets. “Why is it bees you’re afraid of?”

The Soldier’s eyes are on the jar. He manages a shaky breath. There’s a wasp clinging to his neck, its stinger still stuck in his throat. It bats its translucent wings, trying to escape.

“Commander,” the Soldier says, as if to answer the question. His voice wavers. The wasp dislodges itself from his neck and crawls towards his ear. The Soldier opens his mouth again to answer. “Commander…”

But then he hesitates.

With a mixture of vague disappointment and outright glee, Rumlow realizes that the Winter Soldier doesn’t know why he’s afraid of bees. Why the wasps swarming his limbs frighten him more than their stingers.

Rumlow smashes the hornet jar on the floor and leaves the cell. When the door closes behind him, he can hear the asset scream. The sound is raw and terrified. It’s more satisfying than Rumlow anticipated.

—-

Steve comes into Bucky’s room with breakfast on a tray. The moment he enters, he sees that Bucky is standing stock still next to the wall, barely breathing. Something at the window has his attention.

No, not his attention, he’s afraid of what’s at the window. His chest beats up and down. His hands are clenched into fists.

Bucky’s eyes dart from the window to Steve. He thrusts up his arms, both palms open in warning to Steve. “Stop,” he hisses. “Don’t come in.”

Steve frowns. Bucky hasn’t had a relapse in memory in a few months. “Buck, what’s wro—“

Then he sees it: a wasp. Its thin waist and spindly legs send an instinctual shudder down Steve’s spine. Pre-serum, Steve was deathly allergic to bees. Especially wasps. One sting would make him swell up like a balloon and send him straight to the hospital.

He’s not any more.

“It’s alright,” Steve soothes and approaches the window.

Bucky’s entire body seizes up as if to prepare for a fight. But he needn’t bother. Steve simply opens the window. The wasp unfurls its wings and floats away. Steve remains unstung.

“It’s alright, Buck,” Steve repeats. He approaches Bucky now, as lightly and tentatively as he approached the window. “I’m alright.”

Bucky’s eyes are still on the window. A faint sheen of sweat slicks his face and chest. He rubs a hand against the side of his neck and nods. “Alright,” he says, but his voice wavers.

#torture tuesday #hydra trash party #whump bucky barnes #brock rumlow #whew I'm actually very frightened of bees so this one got me shivering #thanks for a great prompt filthy-crown #I was psyched for this one #filthy-crown

[toomanygirlfriends-archive]

"Please stay with me." with Missy

A/n: I’m sad. Sorry.

The feeling of being shot down by the Master’s Laser was comparable to being stung by an army electric wasps repeatedly, starting from the small of her back and traveling outwards to spread over her body. She screamed and fell once the feeling stopped and was replaced with deep seated pain from her bones. 

She landed in someone’s arms, familiar and strong for how lean they were, “How dare you! You’ve KILLED HER!” 

“Missy,” her voice was weak and could be heard over The Mistresses tirade at her past self. 

“HOW DARE YOU! I LOVE HER!"“Don’t bother trying to revive her, Missy, she got the full blast.” The Master’s voice mocked. 

"Mis-sy,” there were tears in her eyes now, her voice a wounded whine. 

The world around her was hard to comprehend, it was like her brain was filling with sawdust. Her mouth was dry and her vision was blurred.  She felt something fall onto her face, it was wet and cool….tears, “M-missy, pl-please,” she wanted to see Missy. She had to see her face before it all got dark. 

“Hshshshs now, ey? Don’t worry, Lamb, we’ll get back to the Doctor and we’ll get you safe, you’ll be alright. I promise,” Missy’s voice was racked with worry. Max’s chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Every breath was a painful weighted wheeze. 

“Thank you…”

“Hush, darling. You just focus on staying awake for me, alright?” Missy attempted to not sound like she was breaking down, her hand moved to pet Max’s cheek, “You humans are-are hilariously fixable-”

“Missy, please…..thank you…for showing me that I’m…important… and I- ah- I love you…so so much,” 

Missy’s hold was shaky, “Maxie, don’t, please don’t leave me. I’m- I’ve been trying so hard to be good, and it is so much…easier… when I have you there. The universe isn’t as worthless when I can share it with you. You are my hearts reason for beating now, you can’t….you can’t leave me now. What if- what if I turn bad again, and what if…what if they come back… the demons are quiet when I can see your, stupid, human, freckled face and when I can feel your heartbeat and smell that little perfume you have had for years and…I love you so much, Darling.” Missy pressed her lips to Max’s forehead it was cold.

Max couldn’t feel it. 

Her eyes were glazed and sightless, she was slack. Missy could feel the difference. Missy looked upwards at the place Max had been looking, seeing the artificial stars hovering in the sky, “Look? See? There are stars, just like home, you have to wake up. You have to see them please, sweetheart?” Missy begged breathlessly, feeling her hearts crumbling in her ribcage..  

Her Max was empty. Dead. She had never felt an agony like this before. In all her lives. In all her deaths. The anguish that flooded every cell in her body was overwhelming. She heard a scream she felt her vocal cords ripping apart. She clutched Max’s body close. She didn’t care who could hear, it was like someone had lit her chest aflame and stabbed daggers in to heighten the pain. 

“Come back, please come back, don’t leave me here,” Missy saw the tears fall onto the love of her lives’ face before she noticed they were falling, and she didn’t care,

“Please stay with me,” she whispered. 

There were explosions, Missy could hear them distantly, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Max was…

Was this how he felt? 

Was this the price of being good? 

The explosions got closer, Missy could almost feel their heat leaking into her skin. She didn’t care. It wasn’t something that mattered anymore, the only thing in the whole universe that mattered now was gone. Still and becoming cold. Missy heard the explosions getting dangerously close, she only just noticed the cyberman flying overhead and pulled herself and What used to be Max beneath the cover of the brush and trees. Covering the pair of them, Max cradled against her. 

The sounds fell further into background noise as she took in Max’s face again. The full cheeks she always disliked by Missy adored, her meticulous makeup smudged now, she would be so upset if she could see the wing of her eyeliner. Missy had always told her she didn’t need it and was perfect how she was. She remembered the time Max turned to face her, still blending shadows and said, ‘But if I want them to worship me, I’ve got to be a goddess.’

Her large pouty bottom lip that she had always taken full advantage of. The way she would whine when Missy nipped at it. The bobbed hair she had just finished. Pink dye still bright and bold, just like she was. Always wanting to make herself a work of art. Her wonder at every little thing, and the always present gleam that was her intellect behind the naive cover she so perfectly played. 

Missy’s equal is every aspect. 

Gone. Like smoke. 

How did he do this so many times?

There was a large blast that knocked Missy down over Max’s chest. The Time Lady clutched the Human tightly, afraid she would be blown away. Missy was not ready to let go. 

She was struck with some kind of debris. Or she must have been, she didn’t remember anything other than a sharp whack and darkness.

#max and missy #max's one shots #my writing #angst

[poppibranchlover]

The Queen and the Butterfly II: The Witch’s Curse - Part 6

This story is a sequel to “The Queen and the Butterfly”.

The story: Poppy offers Branch some cupcakes with butterflies in it which turns out to be mysterious. When the two Trolls eat them, they got transformed into butterflies themselves and realize that the cupcakes were actually cursed by an evil witch! Now they must try to find the witch who made those cupcakes and get a cure to get themselves back to normal, while encountering obstacles in the process along the way.

You already seen what had happened in Part 5. Now get ready for Part 6!:

“Bzzzzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz!”

Poppy and Branch were still sleeping on the plant when two yellow hands emerged from the darkness just above them. They wiggled their finger-like claws as they reached for them and-

SNATCH!!!

“Mmmmmmf! Mmmmmmf!!”

The hands forcefully covered Poppy and Branch’s mouths, instantly waking them up. They tried to realize what is going on until the next thing they knew was that big muscular yellow and black creatures grab them by their hair and force them into two individual sacks!

Poppy and Branch screamed as they try to wriggle free but it didn’t help. The grip on those big guys felt tight! Once they were forced into the sacks, they swung from side to side and scream for help. But their voices were muffled so nobody can hear them scream.

Oh dear! Who has captured them?

Before Poppy and Branch know what is happening, they peeked from the sacks and saw two giant muscular-looking bees looming over them! They force them back inside with their strong big hands, leaving only their little hair sticking out.

“Hey, ya think these cute little pests are what Big B needs?” one bee asked.

“Of course! Like I told you!” the other one said, grinning as he held the sack holding Poppy inside. “These were perfect! Let’s take them back!”

His friend nodded and the two of them flew away from the flower patch and into the distance, holding their sacks containing Poppy and Branch along the way.

The next morning, when Poppy and Branch regained consciousness, they were not in the pink flower field, not in the woods , nor were they at Branch’s underground bunker! When they open their eyes, they were staring at some gooey yellow liquid right in front of them!

Seeing this made them scream! But then they realize they are unable to open their mouths because someone has covered them with white handkerchiefs! Their body and wings are also tied up and there was no chance for both Branch and Poppy to escape!

They struggled to break free but the ropes that held them were too tight! They struggled and struggled until they were completely out of breath. What would they do? Were they tied up here in this miniature roasting spit and forced to stare at the yellow goo puddle for a long time? They stared at one another and exchanged confused glances until they heard buzzing noises around them.

“Bzzzzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz!”

This time these noises were more louder and fiercer than before! Poppy and Branch cowered in fear as they see a large, fierce wasp coming towards them.

“Bzzzzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!”

The wasp wore a wicked smile on his face, laughing at them and talking to them with buzzes. His name was Big B and he was the king of this beehive that his colony lives in and where Poppy and Branch are held captive.

Once again, the two frightened butterflies tried to break free of the ropes as Big B flew closer to them. He looked closer at Poppy and sneered wickedly “Well, aren’t you adorable?”

Poppy whimpered with fright. This is bad...

“Hey, Big B! Sire!” someone called out. The wasp turned away from her and flew to see who was speaking to him, sighing with frustration.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Dr. Bii?!” he complained.

Dr. Bii was one of the doctor bees of the colony working for the king. He noticed Poppy and Branch tied up in the roasting spit and asked while pointing at them “What are you doing with those creatures?”

“Oh, uh, this is a little project I was doing,” Big B explained. “I was wondering if I can coat colorful insects like those two with honey so we can have them devoured for the colony. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Poppy and Branch made faces. Coat us with honey?

“I...thought so,” Dr. Bii said, nodding. “Not going to lie but it seems like these poor creatures look so scared! Let me try to help comfort them!” He hovered his way to them but Big B leaped in front of him, glaring angrily with his big rear end  right in front of the scared butterflies.

“Are you mad?!” he growled. “Just look at all those colors - you think that's natural? They're infected with ‘Pastelis Coloritis’!”

Dr. Bii gasped in horror, even though he has no idea what that was. It just sounded quite serious.

Branch couldn’t abide the implication that he and Poppy were sick. Why - they were healthy as butterflies! He swung around the metal he was dangling on and struggled. Poppy even did that too, trying to get the ropes off her wings.

Meanwhile, Big B and Dr. Bii are trying to figure out why do bees can get the dreaded “Pastelis Colorities” as the doctor looked into his record pad, searching for clues.

“But this kind of disease doesn’t seem to exist!” he protested. “The colony will be fine!”

“No, they’re not!” the king shouted. “If they eat butterflies, I know they won’t die! But they will if they eat them whole!”

“Why, you’re not going to kill them, aren’t you?” Dr. Bii cried, straightening his glasses.

“I would. But I’ll have them ready once I finish the job!” Big B hovered next to the roasting spit and held the edge of it with his claw. Poppy and Branch frantically shook their heads and screamed through the handkerchiefs. But Big B smirked at them and told them gently “Don’t worry, this would never hurt you...”

Then with a massive push, he pushed the spit down a little, causing Poppy and Branch to descend closer to the rippling puddle of honey! Thinking that they are certainly going to die, they screamed for help as Big B snarled at them “You like it?! Want more?!”

Branch and Poppy shook their heads with fright, refusing to let him make them sink into the bubbling liquid. But all their efforts were in vain. Not a single person heard their voices from inside the hive! Tears rolled down their cheeks and they barely sobbed.

As soon as Branch and Poppy have no strength to shout anymore, Dr. Bii floated to him and protested “Wait! Don’t kill those poor things, sire! Shouldn’t we just focus on examining the honey products instead?”

“Yeah, of course,” Big B replied, his claw still clutching on to the stick of the spit. “But this experiment is one of the products yet to have been made recently.”

Dr. Bii was not pleased at all. It looked as if he was hurting the other bugs. He knew he has to do something.

He floated forward and demanded “Listen here, according to these results on your experiment, it looks like these creatures weren’t infected with "Pastelis Coloritis" at all!” He held up his notepad and showed a chart graph examining the results on the roasting honey spit project Big B is working on.

“Don’t be silly,” he told him. “I’m quite certain they were edible enough for the colony to chow down on.”

“Okay, but it’s not that good.”

Branch and Poppy didn’t like the sound of how they look edible. After all, Bergens used to think Trolls are initially edible as well! They exchanged glances as Poppy asked Branch what to do now. And he mumbled through his handkerchief to tell her to make a fuss and cry for help as loudly as she can. Poppy was afraid this might catch the bees’ attention but he told her to do it so anyway. 

She nodded numbly and took a deep breath. Then, without even thinking, she began wriggling around the spit and struggling to break the ropes again, screaming for help at the top of her voice!

Her cries made Big B and Dr. Bii stop chatting. They stared at the squirming pink butterfly in shock. Big B, now getting more angrier than ever, flew closer to her and shouted “What are you doing?! Trying to escape?!”

Poppy whined through her handkerchief, shaking her head and looking up at him with her eyes growing big. But the giant bee slapped her face hard enough for his claw print to appear on her face! She winced in pain.

Big B pulled her by the hair and said “How can I trust you! If you do this again, you’ll die immediately!”

Poppy had no choice but to keep still for a minute. She mumbled sadly.

“Get everything ready for the banquet!” Big B growled at his doctor servant. “I need to have as many of the honey produced here!”

Branch stared at Poppy. Well, that didn’t work...

Soon another bee barged in. He smiled angrily, exposing his sickly yellow teeth! Poppy and Branch cried out in disgust. This bee looks as ugly as the others in the colony! Eww!

“Thank goodness you’re here, Stinger,” Big B said gratefully.

Stinger leaned in and met the big bee’s eyes. "These butterflies better shoot rainbow lasers out their eyes if they're gonna settle your hive, Big B!” He gestured to a cage behind him. “Let’s load these fellas up!”

Branch and Poppy gasped in horror! Big B and Dr. Bii are going to sell them?! Branch shook his head in disappointment and Poppy has to fan herself with her antenna to get over the shock of it all. What a double-crossing, good-for-nothing tough bee they’ve met in their entire life! That confirmed the next level of distress they were in.

Stinger scrambled over to Poppy. Awestruck at how pretty she was, he puts a hand to her wing. Poppy grimaced.

“Why, aren’t you the most beautiful insect ever? Let me kiss you!” He puckered his lips to bring her face closer for a kiss.

Now this literally drove Branch jealous! Poppy was enraged that she punched Stinger hard using her hair! KA-POW!!!

The force of her long hair knocked Stinger to the ground, unconscious. It was now or never. Poppy had to make sure nobody but Branch would want to kiss her.

Once Stinger was done for good, Big B and Dr. Bii looked in shock. They have no idea this butterfly can do that!

As they rushed over to console him, Poppy reached for her handkerchief using her hair and tore it out of her mouth. She dropped it into the honey puddle and reached for the ropes, using her hair like a pair of scissors. She snipped them one by one very carefully, muttering “Come on, come on...”

Finally, there were no more ropes that were holding her. She was free! She fluttered out of the spit, glad to have escaped!

As she tried to release Branch, Big B saw her escaping and shouted at her “Hey! How did you get out-”

WHAM!!!

Poppy punched him really hard with her hair, knocking him down! Dr. Bii worriedly flew over to console him as well! Now he has two bees to treat!

Branch was amazed. He couldn’t believe this cute little butterfly has suddenly became a ferocious warrior. Then Poppy flew to Branch and took out his handkerchief with her mouth while using her hair to cut out his ropes.

After the ropes were cut out, Branch flapped his wings and spun a bit. Not until he would realize he was spinning like a butterfly too which he was always not fond of but he was happy that Poppy had saved him. The two of them smiled at each other and fluttered away from the chaos.

Meanwhile, Dr. Bii was frantically consoling Big B. He clutched his forehead and asked anxiously “A-are you okay? Any bruises, sire?”

“I’m fine!” Big B said, standing up and groaning. He went to check on Poppy and Branch suspended in the spit once more when he noticed their handkerchiefs and ropes spilled all over the honey puddle!

“They’re GONE?!” he screeched. “How?!”

He glared at Dr. Bii for any answers on how they got out. But he quivered his lip nervously, stating “I guess insects are very smart to get out.”

“Ugh! We can’t let these creatures get away this time!” snarled Big B, looming over the scared doctor bee, who begged him not to do this again this time.

But he wouldn’t listen. He turned to a corner and ordered:

“Assemble the guard troops!”

Dr. Bii panicked and flew off. Big B grinned evilly as he watched an army of muscular bees marching to the opening of the hive. He pointed at where Poppy and Branch were flying at and they saluted and prepare to fly off, giving chase to them.

“Bzzzzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! BZZZZZZZZ!!”

The angry bee soldiers buzzed angrily as they chase Poppy and Branch around the forest. They tried to get away as fast as they could, flapping their wings and panting. They looked back and screamed as they see them flying closer. This was their one chance to escape! They had to get back to Branch’s bunker as quickly as possible so they can find evidence from the magic cupcakes!

It seems like Branch and Poppy were unable to get through it much longer. They gasped for breath and continued to fly away. Then Poppy noticed a large log below them!

“Quick!” she shouted. “Hide in here!”

She fluttered down to the log and went through a hole under it. Branch followed and they both kept still just as the swarm of bee soldiers flew past the log, buzzing.

“Bzzzzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! BZZZZZZZZ!!”

“Where did they go?!” cried one of the soldiers.

“Well, they’d better gone off somewhere!” another barked. “Let’s keep looking!”

Finally, the bees flew out of sight. Under the log, Poppy and Branch were trying to catch their breath and breaking down in cold sweat. It was very dark inside the log that only their little eyes are showing inside.

“I think we lost them, Branch,” Poppy panted.

“Yeah, I think so...” he replied, exhausted.

HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

From around them, harsh raspy hisses echo around the dark. Poppy and Branch jumped back. Were those spiders again?

“Um...Branch,” Poppy told him with a worried look on her face. “Can I hold your wing?”

“Sure...” he murmured. But the hissing kept going on and on. What is happening?

HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Branch and Poppy wanted to find out why. So Poppy emitted a pink sparkling light from her hair to reveal who is making those sounds. The light nearly blinded Branch as well but he managed to see where he and Poppy are hiding in.

HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Uh oh. Now Poppy and Branch can see where they are surrounded by!

HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!! HIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

They were surrounded by A SWARM OF SCORPIONS!!!

Poppy and Branch screamed! Then they fluttered out of the log in terror and Poppy turned off her hair torch.

As they kept going, they desperately tried looking for places to hide from deadly predators! It was a nightmare for them! How will they ever find a way to get themselves back to normal in time?

                                                 To Be Continued...

                                              Stay tuned for Part 7!

Quick feedback: Are you glad Poppy and Branch managed to escape those nasty bees in this part?

#dreamworks trolls #poppy and branch #poppy #branch #butterfly #butterflies #butterfly poppy #butterfly branch #bees #evil bees #big b #dr bii #stinger #roasting spit #beehive #hive #log #scorpions #fanfiction #the queen and the butterfly 2 the witch's curse

[artlessictoan]

So for the end of February any temari ship (they are all great) in any neat au.

*cracks knuckles* you got it, let’s end on a high!

(femslash feb requests are over for now, thanks to everyone who sent one in, i had an absolute blast and already can’t wait for next year!)

---

HinaTema - Artist

---

“You alright there?” It always amazed her that the voicethat was usually so rough and teasing was capable of such gentleness, no matterhow many times she heard it.

Hinata took a deep breath and shook her head, though hereyes remained firmly shut. “Mhmm.”

There was a pause, filled only with the quiet melody of thezen, instrumental music playing over the speakers and distant chatter, beforethat soft, caring voice spoke up again, “If you want me to stop, just say so, Ihonestly won’t mind.”

“Nn-” the breath she’d been holding caught in her rush toget it out “-no, I really want this,I’m just nervous.”

“Hey it’s fine, everyone gets like that, I just want you toknow that you’re in control here.” A barely-there brush against her temple madeher flinch in its unexpectedness, but it was enough to make her finally openher eyes. Temari smiled down at her, that beautiful, tender smile that broughtcreases to the corners of her eyes and revealed the dimples in her cheeks.

She sat dumbstruck for a few seconds, before leaning intothe hand still hovering at her cheeks and forcing a tense smile onto her ownface. “I know,” she said, resting the urge to kiss the woman’s palm as shesettled back on the table. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.” Temari chuckled softly, hand slippingaway reluctantly when she went back to her position at Hinata’s hip.

Despite her words, she was still feeling incredibly anxiousand fidgety, and now that her eyes had been opened she was suddenly unable to closethem again, instead focusing on her girlfriend’s calm, professional movements,giggling slightly at every press of cold gloves against her skin. The secondthat the dreadful chainsaw-buzzing started, however, her lids slammed shut. Shetried to hold her breath, count to ten, brace herself against the table, anything to calm her down a little.

The painful noise abruptly cut off. “Do you need a minute?”

Her short bob flicked against her face as she shook her headrapidly.

“It would be better if you look, so you know what’s coming.”Temari didn’t order, not like she did with most people, but Hinata had toremind herself that she knew best in this situation, even if the thought ofwatching was terrifying.

Slowly cracking one eye open, just enough to see the otherwoman’s smile as she gently smoothed a little more petroleum over her hip and carefullypicked up the gun.

She tensed, even before it was switched on.

“Try and relax,” Temari said, leaning over once more topress a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, “I promise it sounds more violentthan it really is.” She sat back in her seat, picking up her tool with one handand lightly pinching her thigh. “Besides, you’re nice and plump, so there’s noneed to worry about hitting bone!”

Slapping her hands against her face, she couldn’t help butlaugh, even as the screaming of a hundred angry wasps started up again.

“Ok, I’m gonna start with a small line, just take deep, slowbreaths.”

Temari waited until she’d calmed herself, before slowlybringing the tattoo gun close to her skin, dark eyes focused intently on thestencil as she closed the gap.

She felt something like an electric shock jolt through her,a tiny flinch as the needle hit, but any pain was numbed by shock. Hinata bither lip, concentrating on her breathing, long inhale, hold for a second,controlled release.

Wiping a tissue against her hip, Temari grinned up at her. “Notso bad, huh?”

It was somewhat surreal to look down and see a smear ofblack against her skin, but good. “It… stings.”

Her girlfriend winced in sympathy, even though she hadenough ink that she could probably be tattooed in her sleep and not even wakeup. “Can’t get around that I’m afraid, I won’t say it’ll get better, but you doget a bit used to it. So, ready to continue?”

She nodded, a little eagerly this time, now that the terrorof the unknown had passed. Temari nodded too, then hunched over to draw.

It hurt, it really did, but not like she’d been expecting,and not any more than her daily Baguazhang training. Still though, she wasn’tsure how long she’d be able to bear it; keeping her breathing slow and steady,she instead let her mind focus on other senses, the tranquil song playing, a coughfrom the next room, the sharp, antiseptic tang to the air, the silky caress ofa gloved hand against her thigh, the crease between Temari’s brows as she movedher tool with painstaking precision, the single curl that had fallen free of itsponytail, the visible whispering of her lips – even if the sound never reachedher ears.

Never before had she been so close to her girlfriend as sheworked, it was entrancing to see how fully she devoted herself to her art, completelyunaware of anything outside of skin and ink. It reminded her how important thiswas to her, she’d always been attracted to passion and Temari had it in spades.

Her cousin had been wary about her sudden desire to get couplestattoos with her girlfriend; they’d been together for a few years now and plannedto be together for many more, but he’d still felt the need to pester her aboutthe potential failure of love and the pain that would come with a permanentreminder etched into her body. She knew he was just trying to look out for her,but his lack of faith in her own decisions was frustrating.

No matter what might happen in the future, she truly wanted a piece of that passion decoratingher skin.

Several hours, a short lunch break and many soothing kisseslater, she was finally allowed to stand up and take in the finished piece. Herleg felt more than a little achy, but when she saw the tattoo it hardly seemedto matter anymore.

It started a little below her hip-bone, flowing down to her upperthigh, a beautiful, intricate fan, based on Temari’s favourite, the one with geometricdesigns and three purple circles – though the centre one had been changed to a whiteyang symbol – faint gusts of wind entwining it and, vines twisting together atthe base of the fan, two delicate, white cereus flowers, which only bloomed inmoonlight and always reminded her of her ownqueen of the night.

Temari shuffled next to her, admiring her own work in themirror. “So, whaddya think?”

She gingerly touched just outside of the reddened skin,wishing she could just press her fingers into it and fully explore everydetail, but she settled for skirting the area with one finger, gigglingslightly as she said, “It’s… beautiful, you did an amazing job.”

“Of course I did, I’m incredible,” her girlfriend scoffed,nudging her shoulder lightly before casually dragging the hem of her shorts upenough to reveal her own tattoo – a few weeks old at this point, but not quite fully-healed,it was still just slightly red aroundthe edges – a pair of bold orange and yellow marigolds, surrounded by fire,which curved around a dark yin symbol. The taller woman grinned, pressing theirhips together as much as possible without touching her still raw skin. “Look~ wematch!”

Hiding a snicker behind a hand, Hinata leaned up to brushher lips to Temari’s jaw, whispering a tiny, “Thank you,” into her skin.

She wondered what she might like to have done next.

---

#ictoan writes #ictoan answers #hinatema #temahina #temari #hinata hyuuga #thanks for the ask! #LOV THESE TWO #man i've really gotta write more hinatema..... #yes i put way too much thought into this #if someone drew something for this i would literally die of happiness #just sayin'........... #also gIVE ME SOFT BUTCH HINA OR GIVE ME DEATH #Anonymous