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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Handle With Care

Requested By @posies4rosie: "Jisoo once gave advice in an interview to people who are having anxiety/depression, that when they feel themselves “slipping under”, they can try turning their thoughts to something lighter and focus on the better things instead before getting consumed. -- Request for reader x Jisoo where reader had one of those episodes and failed to pull herself out, which she thinks she’s failing Jisoo by not being able to help herself, causing her to sink even further. -- Jisoo uses her way to help reader. Angst with a happy ending, please <3"

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,948

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self-Doubt, Mentions Of Anxiety / Depression, Fluff, Light Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Cursing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again, my lovely readers! I really enjoyed writing this one, so thank you very much for requesting. I hope all of you enjoy it -- Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The day started off like any other, nothing seeming out of place or particularly noteworthy as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and took a look around the room. Jisoo had to leave before you woke up, and a sweet letter on the bedside table served as her parting gift.

My love,

We have an early stage today, but I'll be back before you know it. Turn it on if you miss me too much ;)

All my love and kisses,

Your Jichu

It made you smile, imagining her saying those words with a little smirk on her lips, and you mindlessly toyed with the edge of the paper. The power this woman holds over your heart is a bit frightening, if you're honest with yourself. One simple note, merely a paragraph at best, warms your heart immensely. The thought of her alone is capable of making you giddy, magically turning you into a love stricken teenager. She rules your world with care, always making sure you feel important and valued; she fights your demons right beside you, never backing down for a minute.

Before Jisoo, you falsely thought you knew what love was; the ill-conceived notion that you used as a guide was flawed in every way. You were raised to believe that true, honest love only existed in far-off realms -- in worlds of make-believe; so, naturally, settling had always been your forte. You blended in and stuck with the crowd, always going for the safest option when given the choice. You limited yourself with each decision you made, and deep resentment blossomed within you.

Resentment at your family for allowing the disease of self-doubt to grow within you. They could've stopped it before it really began; they could've assured you of your worth instead of letting you think your insecurities true.

Resentment at yourself for believing them.

Everytime you attempted to break the pattern and listen to your heart when it told you that there was a world beyond such mundanity, some nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was all a lie. Your life so far, as boring as it may have been, was predictable and safe. Although you ached for the unexpected, for some all-consuming thrill to shake up the life you had grown to accept, you always fell back into that old mindset. Your fears outweighed your courage every time, and you knew it was futile to go against them.

But one day -- one beautiful, fateful day -- you met Jisoo. It was a time in your life that you needed a friend; someone to listen and assure you that things would be okay. In allowing your paths to cross, the universe most certainly blessed you; Jisoo became your confidant in the blink of an eye, offering consistency and understanding, and you let her slip past the walls you spent years so meticulously putting up.

You didn't do that often, and yet it seemed like a no-brainer with her. She made you feel as though you were enough, that you mattered in a world that so adamantly tried to make you believe otherwise. Her love was unconditional and fierce, thorough and far-reaching.

Keeping people at arm's length had always been your way of ensuring that life stayed as predictable as ever, precariously balanced in that safe zone of no risk. Even when you dated people, giving into those innate desires to be cherished despite not deeming yourself worthy, you never really let them in. Not all the way, at least. Something always told you that others were better; closer to perfection. No matter the person, you could always find a reason to say that they were better. That they were something you'd never be; that they had something you'd never have.

The comparisons didn't stop when you began dating Jisoo, but they sure as hell slowed down some. All of that was her doing; she filled your mind with constant reassurance and love, always showing you what a healthy relationship looked like. Over the years, she learned to read you well: the shifting of your eyes served as a sign that you were getting overwhelmed; the way that you zoned out told her the negative thoughts were barreling in. Though she's convinced you to give yourself some credit in the matter, she's the main one responsible for getting you where you are today.

She's your strength -- your reason for wanting to be better.

-------

"Dalgooomie," you cheerily sing out, your voice echoing throughout the apartment. That familiar sound of paws on hardwood draws a smile from you, and you turn to see him eagerly scrambling towards you.

"Good morning buddy! Are you ready for a walk?" For a moment, you swear he can understand your high pitched speech; he spins around, wagging his tail happily as he looks towards the door.

With a laugh, you clip his leash on and the two of you begin your walk.

It's a gorgeous morning; the sun is peeking up, illuminating a sky of beautifully pastel colors as the grass shines with dew. The beads spring off in different directions, the surface tension of the water breaking every time Dalgom rustles his way through the lawn. You have a feeling that today will be a good day.

If only you knew.

About 15 minutes later, you unlock the front door and grin as he charges into the familiar space. He tugs you with him, drawing a chuckle from you as your feet stumble in through the doorway.

"Slow down buddy! I know you're hungry but you've gotta give me a second," you shake your head, amused, as you remove his leash and make your way to the kitchen. He follows suit, barking when you take too long for his liking.

"Yah, okay okay!" You scoop his food into the bowl and pat him on the head as he begins to eat.

A ding from your phone sounds off, the notification surprising you a little. Great timing, you think to yourself.

"About to go on stage, I'll text you later. Xoxo"

Your heart warms at the message, and you type a quick reply before heading to the couch to turn the tv on.

At first, all is well: you watch your girlfriend in awe, always so enraptured by her performances. During one portion of the program, you even run upstairs to retrieve your lightstick and dance around in the middle of the living room. As much as Jisoo can't believe you actually bought one, she thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.

Everything was going well, truly, until towards the end of the show, when the girls were interviewed with a few other idols. One in particular, a female soloist, stood beside Jisoo, looking completely at ease next to her. She was beautiful in every way imaginable, and you couldn't help but begin to compare yourself. You tried to focus on how happy Jisoo looked as she joked with her members, answering the questions with that quick wit you love so much. But your mind soon again filled with intrusive thoughts, taking the focus away from Jisoo.

She looks so much prettier than you do

Watch how she's looking at Jisoo

They look pretty together

What if Jisoo likes her?

I bet she does

You physically shake your head in an attempt to force the thoughts out. Jisoo loves you, you know that. She's with you for a reason. Eventually you're able to look at the tv again without grimacing, but soon that progress is destroyed all over again.

The soloist puts her hand on Jisoo's arm, motioning to the girls and herself as she explains something to the MC. She must've cracked a joke, said something really hilarious, because all of them burst into laughter. Jisoo throws her head back, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as she giggles loudly. That joyous sound hurts you now, almost feeling like she's laughing at you.

It's ridiculous and immature, but your brain takes it there no less. You know better, but your mind is flooded with insecurity and fear, overrun by your unforgiving worries. Tears are streaming down your face as the thoughts grow worse and worse, and it feels suffocating. You consider yourself weak for blowing such a seemingly innocent thing so out of proportion, twisting what should be a positive thing for your girlfriend into something negative. But you can't help it. Your brain betrays you, coming up with hundreds of hurtful scenarios that pile on until you can't breath. It's a physical pain, one far too overwhelming to "wish away" now. You turn off the tv and dart up the stairs, set on crying into your pillow until your mind decides to give you a break.

-------

"Y/N, baby, I'm home." Jisoo calls, and you can hear the material of her jacket slide onto the metal hook beside the front door.

"In here," you say weakly, cursing your voice for even hinting that you're less than okay. For Jisoo, you want to be perfect; you want to seem like you have your shit together. She must not have thought anything out of the ordinary, though, because soon you hear a little giggle from the hallway.

"Hi Dalgomie, did you miss mommy?" She coos, her voice higher than usual and bouncy as she bends down to scoop up the pup. She pads her way into the kitchen, talking to him all the while. Her free arm snakes around your waist once she reaches you, and she leans around to kiss your temple.

The action was loving and simple -- it shouldn't have made your heart ache. Perhaps it wasn't the act itself that caused it; maybe it was the accumulation of all of your emotions from the day coming to the surface. The feeling of Jisoo's arm around you reminded you of earlier; of how close she was to that woman on the program. They looked incredible, clad in the blingy outfits you could never afford and elegant in their mannerisms. It all brought forth the nasty idea that she's just settling for you -- that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you.

When you don't start a conversation like normal or even turn to look at her, Jisoo knows something's wrong. Gently, she kisses Dalgom's head before setting him down on the ground. He trots off towards god-knows-where, and you almost wish to be him. You want to avoid the discussion you'll surely be having any minute now; running away has always been your go-to.

But Jisoo won't stand for that. She's mature and honest in every way, and she knows how to handle you.

"My love, what's wrong?"

She's earnestly concerned, and her tone lets you know she doesn't want you to brush the problem away. Without even knowing the issue yet, Jisoo can tell it's something worth working through.

"I had an episode today and I wasn't able to stop it." You hang your head, your fingers busying themselves by toying with the bread bag in front of you. Once you had stopped crying earlier, you came down to make yourself some food; after all, you hadn't eaten all day.

Jisoo tuts at you, slowly turning you around to face her. The back of your legs lean against the counter now, and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. A few moments of silence pass, Jisoo giving you the opportunity to elaborate. She always offers you the option to initiate the process, not wanting to risk diminishing your feelings before even knowing what's troubling you. She never patronizes you, and you're endlessly thankful.

With a deep breath, you lower your gaze to the floor and continue. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes is definitely not something you can handle in your already emotional state.

"I turned your show on today and saw the pretty idol you were talking to. I started comparing myself and it all got worse from there." You inform quickly, just wanting to get the words out.

She sets her jaw, clenching and releasing the muscles repeatedly as she decides on how best to respond.

"Did you use the technique we talked about?" She asks gently, releasing the question with care.

"I tried, but it didn't work this time." A single tear rolls down your cheek, and you swipe it away before Jisoo can even notice it.

You feel like you're failing her by giving into your worries, but they're incessant. They fight for your attention, completely overruling any "happy thought" that you might have previously hoped would be capable of mitigating your fears. You're disappointed in yourself, but since when is that a new thing?

"She's an idol, Jisoo. She can relate to you in ways I'll never be able to."

"You think I'd throw away 4 years with you to be with someone I barely know, because we can relate?"

She voices your fears in such a way that you instantly feel foolish for believing them. Nevertheless, you persist.

"She's everything I'm not."

"And that's precisely why you never have to worry."

With furrowed brows, you tilt your head and look at Jisoo: her statement confuses you.

"No one else even comes close to you, baby. You're what I want. You're who I want. Every little thing that makes you who you are is a reason I love you."

Your heart beats harder at her words, taken aback by how genuine they sound. She's saying all the things you need to hear, but it feels too good to be true.

"Loving me is exhausting; I don't see why you keep doing it. You should be with someone who doesn't need coddling… who isn't broken like me. We go in circles, Jisoo. I always go back to giving into my fears."

She lets out a disbelieving scoff, soft in its volume as she says, "If I wanted to leave, I would've. You've given me more than enough chances to go, and still I have yet to find a reason to. I'm not perfect either, Y/N. You act like everyone else is so high above you, but we're really all just dealing with our own baggage."

"I have enough of that for 10 people." The phrase is pointed and self depreciating, and Jisoo can't take it any longer.

"Stop. Look at me, baby." She finally breathes out, hooking her fingers underneath your chin and raising your head.

"Whether or not you think I'm making a mistake, I'm always gonna choose you. My life isn't complete without you in it; our stories became intertwined the day we met."

Her cheek briefly tugs up in a lopsided smile at the memory of your first meeting.

"I'm just scared, Jisoo. Do you know how many times people have told me they'd stay, just to leave the moment they found someone better? I know I'm not easy to love; I know it's difficult. I just can't imagine what I'd do without you. You've made me feel emotions I never even knew existed."

You're more honest with Jisoo than anyone else, and being so vulnerable scares you. Nevertheless, it feels good to open up sometimes.

"You'll never have to find out what that's like, because I'm never leaving. Do you understand how in love with you I am? I don't think you do."

You slip your chin out of her hold again, still disappointed in yourself. The action hurts her more than you know, and you miss the way her face contorts into a sad frown.

"When I roll over in the morning and see your face on that pillow, I don't know what to do with myself. When I'm holding you and Dalgom cuddles in between us, it's like I see a glimpse into my future. When you smile at me it's like I can finally breathe again. My home is with you; please don't ever doubt that. You're my world."

And then, you hear it. The noise that very rarely ever comes from your girlfriend. A sniffle.

Your eyes shoot up to hers in an instant, searching through her deep pools as you step forward to cradle her face in your hands. She tries to turn away, already upset with herself -- she knows you'll blame yourself for her tears.

Jisoo only cries in front of you when she's frustrated or deeply moved, and sometimes when she's scared. As you run a thumb along her cheek, you attempt to figure out her reasoning for it this time.

Once she eventually accepts that you aren't letting her get away, she leans into your touch.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You sell yourself so short. The fact that you think you're anything less than incredible devastates me. You're amazing in every capacity… and so, so beautiful."

Her voice wavers, taut with the emotions she's still reeling from. She says the words so assuredly that you begin to give in and believe them. She makes them sound like simple facts; common knowledge to any and everyone. On top of that, you're pained beyond belief that anything of your doing makes her this sad. She deserves to be smiling constantly, so hard her cheeks hurt and her belly aches from laughing.

"I'll never be able to see myself like you do, Jisoo, but I'm willing to work on it. You've already helped me more than you'll ever know, and I've come pretty far. Sometimes I just can't keep the thoughts at bay."

She nods, moving the hand that previously rested on your hip to hold your wrist. She strokes the skin gently, leaning further into your touch as her eyes soften with understanding.

"I love you. Thank you for dealing with me." You utter, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. She sighs at your words, rubbing a comforting circle on your back.

"Thank you for letting me in, jagi. Saranghae."

Your lips move to meet hers now, halfway, both of you needing to feel each other. It's slow and meaningful; she takes her time with it, treating it just like she does your heart. You tilt her head to deepen the kiss, noting the warmth that her cheeks still radiate as you trail your fingers over her skin.

A subtle shiver courses through her at your ministrations, drawing a smile from you. You'll never get tired of kissing her; of having her wrapped in your arms, so close to you. Vulnerable moments like these remind you of how different she is from everyone else. She's your everything and then some, and she needs you as much as you need her.

A bit impatient now, Jisoo tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking for more. You tap her thighs before looping your hands underneath them, swiftly lifting her onto the kitchen counter. The thin material of her skirt sits a little higher up on her legs now, having ridden up as you moved her.

She hooks her legs around you as you move to stand in between them, preventing her from falling and keeping her as close as possible. You break the kiss to study her for a moment, lazily running your fingers along the newly exposed skin of her thighs. Her hair is on its way to being mussed, the curls from her earlier performance now coming undone.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth to moisten her lips as she drinks in the sight of you. The top 2 buttons of your blouse are open, allowing her eyes to gaze at your chest wantonly.

She trails a hand up your body, teasing you before she grips your collar and yanks you forward.

Your lips meet again but this kiss holds something different than before: it's passionate, full of need. She adjusts her posture so that her body is flush against you, enabling you to feel how hard her heart is beating. No one else is capable of making her feel this way, and she's determined to remind you of that.

You bite her bottom lip before smoothing your tongue over it to soothe any ache your actions might've caused. The act is welcomed by Jisoo, proven by the groan that vibrates in her throat. Her hands tangle in your hair as you lower your head to her neck, pressing your lips to the tender skin.

"A-ah, right there," she husks out, her voice deepened with desire. Her wish is your command, and you take your time in leaving a mark there. You continue your assault, leaving a trail of purple-ish bruises in your wake as you move to untouched patches of skin. She knowingly spurs your actions on by moaning into your ear when you bite with just the right amount of pressure, her breath hot on your neck.

You pull away to admire your work, knowing her makeup artist will have a field day with covering up all of your marks. She leans back a bit, slowly swiveling her hips as she uses her ankles to pull you closer.

Her movements fuel the heat pooling between your legs, and you don't even attempt to stop the moan that leaves you. She knows you so well; she knows exactly what gets you going, just what to do and say.

"Come here," you command, securing her legs around your waist as you lift her off of the counter. Her lips find yours again, keeping them occupied as you walk towards the couch -- trekking up to the bedroom would take far too long.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You say, laying her down on the plush cushions. She pulls you against herself again, smiling at the feeling of your hips pressed into her. At first, she defies you, opting to push her lips against yours instead of answering your question. You know what to do to make her talk, though. Slyly, you pull away, barely ghosting your lips over hers. It's just enough contact to make her want more, but not enough to satisfy her.

With a press of your thigh to her center, she's already bucking her hips up into you, reaching up to reclaim your lips. She whines as you pull further away, not allowing her to kiss you until she gives you an answer.

"Use your words, Jisoo." You add your hand into the mix of things driving her crazy as you trail it down her body, allowing your fingers to sneak under the hem of her shirt and skim over her abdomen.

She looks at you defiantly, causing you to quirk an eyebrow. Challenging you, is she? Two can play at that game.

You apply more pressure to her core, allowing her to take pleasure in two more strong strokes against your thigh before pulling away completely.

"Fuck- no. Y/N…" she pleads, reaching for you again. She's really getting worked up now.

A smirk crosses your lips at her desperation, and you almost have to stifle a chuckle. She knows you're stubborn, and denying herself release seems idiotic when all she has to do is listen to you. So, she gives in.

"I want your mouth; your fingers. All of you."

Your cocky persona falters a bit at her words and you feel the blood rushing through your veins at the way she said them. Her voice was raw with lust, dripping with desire as she eyed you.

"Was that so hard, baby?" You tease, resuming your previous movements with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me." She huffs out, half annoyed and half amused.

"Yes ma'am." You press your lips to hers and get started on meeting her demands.

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

Like how someone asked about the squad babysitting, how would Perseus agents feel about it?

Naga, Stitch etc

Oh man, this would be like... Utter mayhem times A THOUSAND LMAO

Also, I wasn't sure if you wanted like the Warsaw pact operators or just Perseus agents, so I picked my faves as well as Naga and Stitch for this one. I hope that's ok!

---

Beck

This guy is 100000% Dad Vibes™

He can watch kids with absolutely no trouble

The kids might not have a lot of fun though because he'd be very regimented with things like TV time, dinner time, and bed time however

He strikes me as the nerdy type who has legitimate reasons at the ready for why he only lets the kids watch this much tv and sends them to bed no later then that time

Even worse, he is more then happy to explain his reasoning to the kids when they complain

Unfortunately for them, they end up getting so bored they just do what he says to get him to shut up

This is probably his most powerful tactic as a baby sitter, and it's not even intentional

Needless to say, parents love him since he's so effective, despite protest from the kids

It's a vicious cycle

Naga

Idk why, but personally I feel like he'd be surprisingly good with kids???

Don't get me wrong, he's very begrudging and also of the "come here you little shit" mindset

But he knows all about putting the kids down for a nap and giving them something to entertain themselves with so they don't drive him insane

I also feel that he'd get attached to any kids he's babysitting easily????

Like, people can roast him, that's whatever, but if you come for the kid?

Bad idea

Very much the "I was holding my kid- BITCH I'M A MOTHER. NO DRAMA!!" tiktok audio vibes

Portnova

Idk why, but she strikes me as the "older sister who's too cool for you"

This reflects very much in her baby sitting style

She's almost completely hands off, and basically let's the kids do whatever

As long as they don't break anything or create a disastrous mess, who cares?

Let the little goblins tire themselves out

She'll be in her work space, behind a nice closed door, doing paperwork while the kids go nuts

Eventually she comes out to serve up some dinner and then it's back to letting them off the leash

When bedtime rolls around the kids are usually completely tuckered out from their own shenanigans

And even if not, they have just the right combo of fear and respect for her that they'll take this one command and go to sleep for her

Despite the fact that the kids seem to love her and indeed get along well with her...

She feels herself becoming more and more convinced that she'll never be having kids in her life after each babysitting assignment

Stitch

Oof, well Stitch would probably be the very, absolute LAST person you'd want to watch some kids

But assuming these were the kids of someone important, aka his superior or something, I think he could pull it off

I'm thinking he'd go the portnova route with a bit of naga thrown in

He defiantly has rules, but mostly he just lets the kids do whatever

As long as that 'whatever' is outside

That's not to say he can't handle the kids tho if they had to stay indoors

Just put on some tv, leave out some cheerios or whatever, and you're all set

Even if he did play nice, I feel like any little kid would probably be intimidated by him regardless, so the kids are happy to be off doing their own thing anyway

However, any chance he gets, he teaches the kids about communism and propaganda on the greatness of the Perseus organization

His boss would be happy, any other parents, not so much

Stone

Like Stitch, you'd probably have to twist his arm on this one lol

Although, I feel like he wouldn't mind hanging around the kids, just to make sure nothing happens

They can occupy themselves, and he'll be close by, either reading something or watching tv

The kids would probably be pretty curious about him though, so I think they'd badger him with questions about his work and all

Luckily he has more then one braincell, so he keeps the crazy stuff out, but Stone is a busy man so he has plenty of other interesting stories to tell

He doesn't mind talking about it either

Something tells me he'd love the opportunity to brag on himself a little

If nothing else, at least he has no agenda to push onto the kids, so parents can rest at ease on that one lmao

#call of duty #black ops cold war #harry stone #vikhor stitch kuzmin #yirina portnova #kapano naga vang #ingo beck #cod headcanons

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dearcat1 · 3 years

Note

Guardian Tsu and his sky Xan?

This is somehow far longer than I was expecting... I was trying to do something different than the multichap that I have plotted hahaha hope you like it.

Story:

No matter what other people think, Xanxus is a Sky. Despite their willful ignorance, he's actually the Sky with the most experience with Clouds. After all, if they're to be mafia one way or the other, the Varia tends to be the more palatable option. Xanxus has no interest in parading them around like show ponies, no need to leash them to his castle. As long as they take the required number of missions and complete them, Xanxus gives zero shits about the rest.

Which means that when they're aware of the option and it's given to them, most Clouds flock to him. Not that any of the old men would ever recognize that little fact. It also means, however, that ten years later, when he finally sees Sawada again, he sees it. Xanxus was set to dislike him, had decided in his mind already but once he notices it, there's no ignoring the fact and Xanxus can't stop watching.

Reborn thinks his student is a cloudy Sky, possessive and territorial but nothing that can't be overcome with a little conditioning, a little pushing. Xanxus takes one long look at Sawada reigning his temper in and he realizes that's not the case at all. That's a Cloud, with a damn powerful Sky secondary. It's not until later, however, when Xanxus witnesses Sawada losing his temper for a fraction of a second that he understands.

First, Sawada is the most powerful, most in control Cloud that Xanxus has ever seen. Second, Reborn and Timoteo are buffoons. What do they know about Clouds anyway? They've been trampling over Sawada's instincts for years, attempting to curve his tendencies instead of working with who he is. They have given Sawada no time to rest, to collect himself. He has no territory, no sense of belonging because of that. Third, Xanxus could sit back and enjoy the explosions. No matter how calm Sawada is, everybody has a breaking point.

And yet… Fourth, Xanxus wants him. It had only been a moment, certainly not enough time for much other than to see Sawada's Flames briefly lash out from under his skin but it had been enough. But it had been more than enough. Xanxus is picky, he wants only the best of the best and Sawada is the best Cloud in the mafia.

He starts small. Where all the other Skies in Vongola impose themselves on Sawada with casual disregard, Xanxus makes a point of respecting his cues. When it looks like Sawada is about done with people, Xanxus covers for him. If it's only the two of them in the meeting, he waves Sawada away, tells him to come back when he feels like it. When it's with their old men, he provides a distraction just long enough for Sawada to collect himself.

Soon enough, Xanxus becomes the one Sky in Vongola who can guarantee Sawada will show up to their meetings instead of sending Gokudera or the baby swordsman to replace him.

One morning, Xanxus wakes up to Vongola as a collective losing their fucking minds. Sawada is, apparently, missing. Unlike Timoteo, Xanxus doesn't worry. The little Cloud will come back when he feels like it and not a moment before that, Hyper Intuition will see to it. Vongola begins search parties. Xanxus finishes dressing and strides into his office. When he finds Sawada sprawled on his couch, napping with a manga on his hand, Xanxus doesn't react.

All he does is sit down and tackle the paperwork.

Sawada wakes up some time later but loses interest in his book after a while, watching Xanxus silently. It's predatory, almost considering. Xanxus keeps working. Sawada stretches with a hum, slow and lazy. "What are you doing?"

"Courting you."

"Hmm," Sawada takes that in, nods once and turns back to his book.

The Cloud disappears for ten days, there one moment and gone the next. Xanxus sits back and watches the chaos, secure in the knowledge that Timoteo will simply assume Xanxus is sadistically pleased. He ignores the sad disappointed looks and continues on with his life. If you want a Cloud to stick around, Xanxus knows, you better store away the leash.

Sure enough, the night of the tenth day, Sawada shows up once more in the Iron Fort, shoes covered in mud, a streak of it on his cheek. But he looks calmer, more settled in a way that makes Xanxus's lips twitch up and the brat's tutor stop. Sawada endures his guardians fuzzing with grace, pretends to listen to Timoteo's scolding about responsibilities and duties. Xanxus buys him boots and gives them to him during the next meeting.

When Sawada takes them from him, he blinks, "uh. Thank you." But he puts them on right there, looking pleased with the way they fit. "They're nice."

Good, the sooner Sawada forms his territory and settles, the sooner Xanxus can actually make strides in his courtship. He makes no mention of just how much those boots cost. He just ruffles Sawada's hair, "good. Lets get back to business."

It becomes something of a routine. Sawada disappears for a day or two, always coming back a little muddy but happy. Timoteo hates it, his guardians try to tag along, Reborn is at a loss on how to curve it and Xanxus covers for him, encourages it. Whether Sawada disappears to unknown places with no warning or does it after a nap on Xanxus's couch, Xanxus buys him time and offers him a calmer welcome when Sawada finally turns away from his usual committee.

Xanxus still twitches in place when he finally realizes where exactly Sawada is creating his territory. That little shit. He strides to the very edges of the land behind his castle, carefully stopping right at the start of the lush forest-like garden and waits. But there's no answer, no acceptance or rejection. So Xanxus steps in, careful to step only on grass. It takes him almost two hours but he does find Sawada, laid on a branch of a tree.

How big is this thing? Xanxus crosses his arms and arches a brow, "really now?"

Sawada opens one eye, smug and mischievous. "Do you like it?"

"Very relaxing," Xanxus nods. Slowly, he lays on the grass, under the shade of the tree. Sawada doesn't react, watching him silently.

The next time Xanxus shows up at Sawada's territory, he brings along a box full of seeds. He says nothing when he gives it up. Sawada takes it from him with a delighted little hum, disappearing between the trees. Xanxus watches him go and doesn't follow. It becomes something of a tradition, Sawada will disappear every now and then and Xanxus will go back to his castle, find another variety of seeds and walk to the edge of Sawada's territory with his offering.

It's a learning curve, slow and steady. Xanxus learns just how far in he can get without an explicit welcome, where to wait for Sawada to come greet him and even how far in Sawada will allow the rest of his elements. Which had been a bit of a touch and go thing, Xanxus had never seen Sawada as angry as the moment Belphegor had carelessly stabbed one of the trees. On the bright side, the prince now has a healthy fear of Sawada. On the other hand, however, it had taken Xanxus almost half a year to get to the point where he was trusted enough to bring somebody else.

Which is why he's so relieved when he walks in, Squalo a step behind him and Sawada doesn't come to fend them off. If he ended up being back to square one, Xanxus would have put the damn Storm back in the medical wing himself.

"Voi," Squalo murmurs, looking around, "this place is a fucking forest."

That much is true. The plot is big enough for it and Sawada has taken advantage. Between the space and Sawada's apparent green thumb and random planting, the land has lost any sort of connection it had to a garden to become a forest instead. Full with life, wild animals included. And yet, not a human soul but them and Sawada himself. If that doesn't speak of Sawada's preferences, Xanxus doesn't know what will. Even Hibari's territory, for all of his short patience, is full of 'herbivores' to herd.

Xanxus guides them to the clearing and settles down under the tree for a nap. Sawada will either show up or he won't. At this point, all they have to do is wait.

When he wakes up, hours later, it's to the rhythmic sounds of Squalo cleaning his blade. He opens his eyes to find Sawada watching curiously from where he's laying on top of a branch. Xanxus watches him instead. Sawada turns to look at him and Xanxus hums, stretching an arm up with the box. Sawada jumps down, sitting cross-legged beside Xanxus as he takes the box.

"What's this?"

Yawning, Xanxus turns on his side, "signal yammer. You can leave your phone in that." So that you don't have to keep smashing them when you disappear, Xanxus doesn't say.

Sawada perks up, touching the engravings on the metallic surface. It's handmade, Xanxus made it himself. "Come on," Sawada pulls on Xanxus's sleeve.

It's not unheard of but it's definitely strange for Sawada to invite Xanxus deeper into his territory without Xanxus himself asking. And doing so while leaving Squalo unattended on his territory is a very big sign of trust. So Xanxus stands, letting Sawada guide him around by the sleeve of his coat. They go deeper than Xanxus has ever been, Sawada letting him stop and stare every now and then. There are streams running through the ground, a small lake, a cave system. "How big is this?"

"Big enough," Sawada shrugs, happy and still full of mischief. "It took you forever to figure it out."

Xanxus snorts, "yeah? But then it wouldn't have been ready when I came."

That makes Sawada stop, like the thought hadn't occurred to him, and then pout. "It was ready, though."

"Hmm," Xanxus takes the place in. It's a small house, carved inside the cave system with tools and flame. Nothing too luxurious but impressive all the same. They're inside of what seems to be the bedroom, there's a small dresser, some shelves with some assorted random objects, one of them dedicated only to Xanxus's gifts. The rest of the bedroom is just a giant bed. Pillows and blankets on the ground, enough that it's impossible to see the stone underneath, all in a soft colorful chaos, small led lights hanging on the ceiling like a messy spider's web.

All in all, very cozy.

Sawada is looking at him, shy and expectant. So Xanxus walks closer, ruffles his hair. "It's nice," and Xanxus hope's he's not misunderstanding. "Your bedroom?"

"Yup," Sawada puts his hands on Xanxus's pockets, walking backwards and then letting them fall. He's caging himself between Xanxus's body and the pillows, "ok."

"Ok?" Xanxus's breath hitches. No matter Iemitsu's despairing remarks or Timoteo's gentle condescending suggestions, Xanxus is a Sky. He's greedier than most. His elements are his and Xanxus will have them in every way he can have them.

"Uh hu," Sawada presses closer, forehead against Xanxus's shoulder.

Xanxus lets him, shrugging his coat off and maneuvering it onto Sawada's shoulders. "Next time," he promises, kissing the crown of Sawada's head, "next time, I'll have you. Next time, I'll be ready. How do you like your breakfast?"

His Cloud makes a tiny sound of surprise, turning them around even as he slips his arms on the sleeves of Xanxus's coat. It's too big on him. He presses Xanxus down, moving blankets and pillows around them until he's happy they're both comfortable and warm. Xanxus lets him use his chest as a mattress, hand rubbing gently on his back. "I don't have a kitchen," Sawada offers.

"I'll figure it out," Xanxus reassures.

#fanfiction #khr #xanxus #katekyo hitman reborn #sawada tsunayoshi #ask #lady-hallowtide #wilful blindness

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kawaiichibiart · 4 years

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After seeing the idea of Sun!Spirit/Prince Zuko, I've been wanting a Tangled AU. Zuko is Rapunzel, Ozai is Gothel, Iroh, Ursa and Azula are the King and Queen, the Gaang are Flynn/Eugene but Sokka is the one who ends up with Zuko. Mai and Ty Lee are the Stabington brothers but with the twist of not being criminals and the Kiyoshi warriors are the thugs from the Ugly Duckling.

Zuko is blessed by Agni the day of his birth, he has beautiful, golden, hair and he just...Glows. Ursa is happy with her child. Iroh and Lu Ten are happy with the new addition to their family.

But we need a bad guy in this. And who else but Ozai? Ala Gothel, he puts on a cloak, and a mask to cover up his face, and kidnaps Zuko and takes him away.

He planned for this. He said he had important meetings to attend to with certain people, like Zhao. Those people play alibi. So, when he returns to his distraught wife, brother and nephew, he acts distraught as well. His son was "taken" from him.

No one would ever know Zuko was hidden away, somewhere far away from the Fire Nation, locked away, because as Agni's chosen one, he needed the "protection." Zuko is special. People will want to kill him. Listen to your father, Zuko. Your father loves you, Zuko. Your father knows best, Zuko. You can't leave this place, Zuko. You don't know anything about the world, Zuko. Men are animals and women are either weak or don't care about you, Zuko. I mean, where is your mother, Zuko? She's not here, she doesn't care about you, Zuko. There was a war around them, Zuko. You can't take care of yourself, Zuko.

And we know Gothel was manipulative. We know she toyed with Rapunzel's emotions. Ozai would be the same, but we know he'd also be worse. The day he burned Zuko? He'd go off saying he's sorry. How it wasn't really his fault. Zuko was pushing him and he snapped. Zuko, how can you blame your poor father? So, of course Zuko thinks it was deserved. Of course he blames himself. He provoked his own father, the man who was "protecting" him from the dangers of the world.

Ozai would call Zuko his "Sun" much like Gothel referred to Rapunzel as her "Flower."

Zuko has a turtleduck as his only friend/pet. Not sure on names, but something ironic would be fun. Like, he doesn't know the name of his relatives, he doesn't even know he has a sister now. But he names the turtleduck Ursa, or Iroh, maybe even Lu or Lala (one of the nicknames for Azula). Ozai doesn't know about them. He doesn't know someone in his family shares a name with a turtleduck.

And who is the one who finds Zuko? Who gets knocked unconscious, is shoved into a wardrobe, gets tied up and made to take Zuko to see something he's always wanted to see? Sokka.

He's traveling with the rest of the Gaang. Will they be like Flynn/Eugene? Kinda. Toph and Sokka the prime criminals. Aang sometimes helps them, and Katara is just there to make sure they don't hurt themselves and to yell at them for being stupid and making her worry. They need a mom, so she stepped up.

What lead them to Zuko was that they learned of the Lost Prince, Prince Zuko, who was kidnapped as a baby.

In Tangled, we know the object that Flynn steals is Rapunzel's crown. I was thinking something else for Zuko. The crown would be a nice connection, but I think something else would be better. Something that connects him to either Ursa or to Iroh. If we go Ursa, they take the Blue Spirit mask. If we go Iroh, perhaps a Pai Sho tile that was turned into a necklace or a ring. We could even have both.

Sokka and Toph don't really get why these things matter. Like, it's not a crown or a nice blade. One is just wood and the other is part of a game. What's so special about them?

So, when Zuko puts on the mask, it feels oddly right, but also familiar. Before he was taken, Ursa would show him her masks. He was scared at first, but then curiosity won out and he would always reach out for the Blue Spirit mask. And Ursa was going to give it to him as soon as he was old enough to have it. When he holds the Pai Sho tile in his hand, it feels warm. Iroh, when he was around, would take care of Zuko and would often play Pai Sho while he did. Zuko would always reach for the white lotus piece. So, Iroh decided it would be his. But Zuko was only ever interested in that one tile. Never the game. So, he turned it into something he would and could wear.

Let's get back to the Gaang. Sokka hasn't reappeared. He hasn't called. He didn't come back to tell them that it was safe. So, one by one, they enter the tower (because I had to keep that element) and they just see Sokka, tied up, two blades against his neck and a boy who is glowing holding them.

The boy is looking at them wearily. He was told this place was safe. That he couldn't protect himself, but he caught a man, held him captive. But he was still yelled at. He didn't reveal his prisoner. His father had left, with the promise of bringing him some new inks and a play scroll for the celebration of the Solstice. But now he had three more people to fight. Three more people who would try to kill him. But they don't? They don't know who he is? Why he's special? Didn't they want to kill Agni's chosen one?

Cue to an awkward moment of the Gaang trying to convince a boy who was touched by the sun to let one of their members go and to join them. That they promised to not let anything happen to him. And he agrees, eventually.

And the journey plays out just like it did in Tangled. Zuko is conflicted. On the one hand, he's seeing the world. Yes, there's a war going on, but he's actually seeing it for the first time in his life. The world is so big and he's so curious about everything. His turtleduck quacks replies to his questions. It's kinda cute, kinda sad, and overall something the Gaang think should have been taken care of long ago. On the other hand, Zuko is paranoid. He's afraid. He's worried that his father would find out and be disappointed. That he really is a horrible son and human being. He can go from happy and curious about one thing to upset and stressed about the next.

And eventually, Sokka decides that maybe they should move on. He would take Mr. Sunshine back to his house. He'd get their stolen goods back. They'd depart as friends and be happy. But no, Mr. Sunshine wasn't backing down. He wanted this. He wanted to see the world and he was going to. Sokka is frustrated the most outta the Gaang. Toph enjoys Zuko's company, Aang gets along well with him and Katara has no real opinion of him. But Sokka? Yeah, he'd rather have Zuko go back so they can move on.

I want the Ugly Duckling to be the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh isn't in the day they arrive. But you know who is? Some of the Kyoshi warriors. Suki is amongst them. In this AU, she and her warriors weren't caught by Azula. When she learns that Zuko is living his dream, she reluctantly lets them go by. She brings up the war, and he knows, but he has so much to see, and if he can help people along the way, why would he turn his back?

Things start to look up, but then, Azula strikes with Mai and Ty Lee. She was told by her father of the boy with the golden hair. He was Agni's chosen one. He was more powerful than her. He would be a great addition to her court. So, she wanted to capture him. She didn't know he was her older brother (and yes, I'm aiming for this to have an Azula redemption).

Ozai stops them, knocking them all unconscious and takes a distraught Zuko away. And Zuko lets him. the Gaang abandoned him. They let the enemy take him. They let him think they cared.

He didn't know they were being held back. He didn't know that they tried to get to him. He didn't know that they were ambushed. That they had to retreat. Mai and Ty Lee are arrested earlier for attacking the Crown Princess. Azula wants to feel betrayed but can't. She's sure they didn't attack her, Ozai says she only believes that because they lied so well about being her friends. She takes his words to heart. Her friends lied to her and she let them.

Zuko eventually finds out EVERYTHING. He's the Lost Prince. Agni's chosen was the Fire Nation's Lost Prince. And he's seen what the war started by his own people a hundred years ago. He's met the avatar. He's made friends. He met people who actually care about him. He's done with his father. But Ozai wasn't letting him go. He leaves Zuko bound in the tower in order to fight the Avatar.

Who fights Azula? Mai, Ty Lee, who were broken out of prison by Iroh, and Katara. They weren't in the Boiling Rock. They don't have to fully defeat Azula, they just need to distract her enough for her to be caught. And some miracle, the trio succeed with little injury to either party.

Aang defeats Ozai and he, Sokka, Suki and Toph take Ozai to the palace where he would be taken away. But first, Sokka demands that Azula tell him where she took Zuko. She doesn't know. She never met her brother. So, when he tells her that the boy she was trying to capture was Zuko, she turns to her father in surprise.

The man who told her this boy who was their God's chosen one but never told her he was also her older brother. That he likely left out that detail to ensure she would capture him, bring him home now that Ursa was gone, so he could keep a better eye on him. It was never about making Azula a better court. It was never about giving her a powerful ally. It was just his want to ensure Agni's chosen was his and that he held him in a tight leash. He didn't care about either of them, and when she first met her older brother, she made sure he was afraid of her. That he knew she was above him. That he would know her word was final. Ozai made sure that she would. He told her that that was how she would succeed.

Ozai admits to it. How he was so sure he'd win. How they could ask, beg, torture him as much as they wanted, he would never tell them where Zuko was or if he was okay. So, he's taken away. And the Gaang begin a new search. Azula demands to go with them. She's messed up. She heard her mother grieve for her brother. Maybe, just maybe, bringing him home would make her come home someday.

They travel back to the tower and find Zuko. He's worn out from trying to get out of the chains Ozai put on him. There are burns on his wrists and hands. But the thing that surprises them the most, is the fact that his golden hair was now a deep black, but his eyes were brighter, more golden. His glow had died. Agni's chosen got hurt, he stood out and was hurt. So he was made to look relatively normal. Only those who looked for it, would see the signs that Zuko was his chosen child.

He and Azula have a strained relationship for a while, but they eventually bond and the day one is crowned Fire Lord, the other stands proudly by them.

Iroh returns from Ba Sing Se. His brother is in prison. His niece is okay. The war was over. But the day he returns, he goes to see Azula, to tell her he would help her run things until she could take care of everything herself, and he sees her with a boy. Something about him is familiar. The boy sits by her, fussing over her. The girl's mental and emotional health is a primary thing being seen to. And when Azula sees Iroh, she motions to the boy and asks if he knew Zuko.

Zuko.

Iroh looked at the boy and saw the White Lotus Pai Sho tile necklace around his neck. His hair is no longer its golden hue. His glow died down. But his eyes shouted Agni. This was his Zuko. And Iroh ran over and hugged him. His nephew was home. His nephew was safe. His family would get better.

Zuko is surprised that this old man hugged him. But, it felt nice. It felt right. But most of all, it felt familiar.

All of the Nations celebrate not only the end of the war, but the return of the Fire Nation Prince who was missing for 16, nearly 17, years. The Prince, who few knew as Agni's chosen. The Prince, who had told a few of the people he met when he traveled with the Gaang to call him Li. The Prince, Zuko, who was polite and curious and willing to learn. Zuko, who they hoped would take the throne, but who they were happy to have to ensure his sister didn't bring the war back.

One day, he and Azula would reunite with their Mother and her new family. One day they would meet their new sister, Kiyi. Kiyi, who would hear stories of her older brother, who her mother lost, of her older sister, who her mother had to leave behind.

Her older sister, who was jealous of her. Who struggled to see her mother didn't replace her. Her sister, who after a while, was so protective of her and did love her.

Her older brother, who got hurt for being who he was. Her older brother, who was taken by his own father. Her older brother, who was so kind to her, who played with her and answered her questions.

Ursa would see her children. Both raised by their father but not together. She would never forgive Ozai. For taking her son. For lying to her daughter. For hurting both.

She and Azula struggled to rebuild their relationship. But they do, eventually. The bond isn't as strong as it should have been, but it's there. And it's a start. And that's enough for her.

Zuko, on the other hand, is still in the process of learning everything Ozai told him was a lie. He thought for so long that Ursa didn't want him. That she left him. Abandoned him. So, when he encountered with the woman who was his mother, he didn't know what to think. With Iroh, well, he never knew about Iroh. He never knew he had a family besides his father, who lied and hurt him, and his mother, who supposedly abandoned him and didn't care about him. He never knew he had a sister until the day he was rescued. He never knew he had an uncle until he showed up and hugged him, saying how he was sorry he didn't look for him, that he should have looked harder, not given up. If he could forgive an old man. He never knew his cousin, who died in battle, who wanted to teach him everything he knew. And Ursa understands. She's sad about it, but she knows this is something she has to fix. She has to prove Ozai lied. That she cared about her son. That everyday he wasn't with her, she missed him. That, for as strong as he was, he still got hurt and she should have been there to help him. She sees the burns. The scars. And promises to never leave him again.

It takes time, but their family heals. And Ursa gets to do what she always wanted. She takes her family to see plays. She gives them play scrolls to read and they discuss them once a week. She and Azula talk over tea. They're civil. It's the most they can do at the moment. But both are happy with it. She and Zuko feed the turtleducks. His friend now lives among them.

If we go with he named them Ursa, she cries when she finds out. If we go the Iroh or Lu route, Iroh has tears in his eyes and he laughs with joy. If we go with La, Azula appears indifferent but she gives La a bit more food.

And we all know how it ends:

Sokka: And after years of asking and asking and asking...

Sokka: I finally said "yes."

Zuko: Sokka.

Sokka: Okay, okay, I asked him.

#atla #atla zuko #ozai atla #atla tangled au #sun spirit zuko #azula atla #avatar gaang #zukka #I know I kinda go off with these but like #once I get an idea #I need all the details to make it happen #like; I can adjust things #but I had to get everything down before I forgot

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

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Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading!

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed.

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today.

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions.

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this.

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole.

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design.

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again.

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?”

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly.

“Let’s go then!”

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy.

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved.

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though.

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching.

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels.

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall.

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again.

“For a while,” I answer.

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased.

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk.

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around.

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence.

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow.

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks.

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already.

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior.

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty.

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering.

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards.

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!”

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me. After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered.

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it.

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting.

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends.

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather.

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess.

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast.

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods.

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage.

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him.

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find.

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys.

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels.

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district.

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums.

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!”

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!”

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids.

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy.

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,”

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously.

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling.

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart.

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see.

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes!

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier.

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide.

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta.

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers.

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.”

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like.

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.”

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot.

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!”

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!”

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!”

I frown.

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother.

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful.

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me.

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother.

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me.

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt.

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly.

“White helmets!”

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body.

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in.

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!”

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots.

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear.

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!”

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man.

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper.

I still roll my eyes at him.

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting.

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now.

“What?!” he calls loudly.

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells.

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you… what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it.

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine.

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!”

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.”

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us.

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot.

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring.

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain.

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is.

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.”

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot.

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is.

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway.

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot.

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once.

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets.

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size.

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe!

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light.

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!”

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.”

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.”

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily.

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch.

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily.

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober.

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!”

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere.

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave.

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet.

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested.

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer.

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.”

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide.

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife.

“Open your eyes,” I say.

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife.

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches, “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!”

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done.

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!”

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic.

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues.

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser.

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!”

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!”

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying.

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.”

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up.

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched.

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.”

“You betcha,” I say, amused.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle.

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung.

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?!

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him.

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep.

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture.

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder.

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore.

I close my eyes, smiling.

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #autumn #prompt

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obeymeluv · 4 years

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Diavolo as a Dad

I just want to take a sec and thank everyone for the attention this blog gets. I’m always surprised at how many notes and reblogs there are. Seriously! I have, like, 16 posts and somehow I have 400 followers?! It’s really nice (つ´∀｀)つ

I like it best when there’s comments. It makes me happy ＼(^o^)／

I saw a comment on “The Bros as Dads” post asking for Diavolo as a dad, so here you go. I tried to tag you, but your handle didn’t come up :/

Hopefully you guys like this. I feel like Diavolo’s character is very vague.

This kind of turned into general Diavolo headcanons + Diavolo as a Dad. My b.

General Diavolo Headcanons:

I headcanon that demons have a natural attraction to humans not only because of whatever energy they could provide, but because there’s something innate that makes them want humans. Maybe like an ancient call to their corruptibility or something. Or simply a predator coaxing prey into the den.

Diavolo is especially susceptible to this because he’s the prince. The higher up in the demon hierarchy you are, the more you want humans for their spirit, purity, the soul contract, and just some kind of satisfaction only they can give

There’s probably a forbidden fruit element to it, too. Demons were harassed by humans and angels alike to leave them be, and that just made them more attractive

He genuinely wanted to befriend humans and knock down some old walls and superstitions, so he made the exchange program. A lot of times the sheer excitement of making it happen is enough to take the edge off his demon side. Ignore the whispers saying the little human would be such a treat, like a little lamb in the palm of his hand...

Diavolo’s a pretty outgoing and friendly guy who’s been trapped in a castle of propriety and demands. This human is also his chance at escape, to learn more than books could ever teach him.

At first he’s worried about seducing them (like the old call demands) but when he realizes the human has a crush on him without that influence, he’s stoked.

Pure and perfect, right? THE example of what his program was trying to achieve!

The dates start off innocent and cute--studying and tea in the castle, a small brunch here and there. Diavolo has skipped out on several duties because he simply must treat you to Devildom cuisine! If he didn’t, they wouldn’t get the full experience now, would they?

Barbatos has had to hunt down Lord Diavolo more than he cared for. If you end up convincing Diavolo back to the castle, he respects you. He appreciates the extra babysitter.

You bring a joy to Diavolo’s lavish monotony and he wants the Devildom and human world to know he’s serious about forging better bonds, so he asks if you want to make a pact.

That’s what he says, but it’s so much more than that. Diavolo couldn’t put it all into words and you probably don’t have the lifespan it would take for him to explain (if he could).

At most, there’s something warm and giddy and pulsing in him at the thought of being so close with you. Two souls sharing a bond. Being looked at with such love and adoration...

His pact mark is large and elaborate, and he takes great joy in hiding it from the Devildom, relishing the rare mornings where he helps you dress. He doesn’t regret bonding with you, but he doesn’t want to draw unsavory attention.

Diavolo as a Dad (when you’re pregnant) :

You realize you’re pregnant before Barbatos and Diavolo do, neither one of them very familiar with how humans carry the pregnancy or change throughout.

There’s subtle signs about how your skin is changing, the way your hair looks, and how you smell different. It’s firing off in Diavolo’s brain, tickling at the edge of it, but he can’t figure out what it is.

Barbatos consulted Solomon and got extra suspicious. When you realize he’s starting to put it together, you do the reveal.

You write a note and draw a picture of the pregnancy test, mixing it up in the papers he has to review. Then, just to be extra cute, you busy yourself about the castle to “give him private time”.

Diavolo is handling his paperwork, per usual (it’s almost automatic). The unofficial form catches his eyes since it’s more a note than anything. He reads it and suddenly the WHOLE CASTLE is up in arms with joy.

Doesn’t matter what room you’re in, you heard him. That big, joyful laugh that works his whole chest.

The Little D’s of the castle are skittering around and whooshing through walls to help him find you. You can hear him flying around and calling for you, and it’s like the times you’ve played hide and seek.

The second Diavolo finds you, he crushes you to him and smothers you with kisses. His eyes sparkle as he snuggles you, big purr rolling through his chest. He’s asking a million questions about human children

The two of you take classes together. He studies up on humans and you learn about how to care for demon babies.

Barbatos cries inside at the thought of baby-proofing the castle. He gets the bright idea to hire a bunch of moms and they do sweeps of the castle, tidying up and making lists of what needs to be put away or added to make it safe

You’re given a special brew (exclusive to the royal family) and drink it daily. It fortifies your body to deliver the child and gives the baby its royal heritage (basically makes sure Diavolo’s genes and the demon side comes out a bit stronger).

Even though it tastes good and something in it makes you want to drink it, you’re sick of it by the second month. Barbatos and Diavolo continue to insist that you do. The child should be at least half-demon and will need to be recognized as next-of-kin for ruling.

Diavolo would love to take you out to socialize and attend public classes, but he’s busy and you’re in a delicate state. The royal physicians say the brew does a lot internally so it’s best not to stress you too much (If he’d done The King’s Brew ritual before you were pregnant, the baby would’ve been 3/4th demon and you wouldn’t have so many restrictions. Who knew?)

There’s a lot of private dates around the royal gardens and any beautiful sight he can give you. If you want company, he invites people to you. You want exquisite food? Barbatos can cook, but if you don’t want his cooking then Diavolo can have it delivered. The castle is spacious enough for you to get your daily exercise with simple walks.

He adores seeing you in the royal colors and is constantly sharing visions of diaphanous gowns and anything that can make you comfortable to the designers. Always gushes when he sees you in something new.

Being an old-fashioned demon prince, he does a series of small oil paintings instead of maternity photos. When you explain that maternity photos are more of a human thing, he books a session so the child can see both (the oil paintings are tasteful and appropriate for the castle but they all end up in his study).

Is totally on board with helping you dress (or laying in bed with your huge baby bump when clothes seem a bit hard for the next 5-10 minutes), and taking long, relaxing baths.

Takes his paperwork to bed so he can watch you sleep. You might snore, and the bed is almost comically huge, but you look so relaxed that Diavolo swears you lied to him about being purely human

His favorite thing to do is rub ointments and tinctures on your belly to help your skin. Loves to give you shoulder kisses while he does.

When he finds out you’re having a boy, he commissions tiny matching outfits. He doesn’t know if he wants to gush over the details or cry (”Barbatos, how inconceivably tiny! Isn’t it amusing?”)

Diavolo as a Dad (for real) :

Has to be given very explicit instructions about age-appropriate play because the minute the kid is crawling Diavolo’s going to want to play with him like a toddler.

Lets him teethe on old antique gold stuff that gives Mammon an aneurysm when he realizes what the kid’s doing (and how expensive the thing is in his hands).

Had a treasure chest-style bassinet comissioned because his kid is his treasure. One of the two--two and a half, with Barbatos--greatest treasures in his castle.

100% uses the kids to shirk his royal duties, but you and Barbatos keep him on a tight leash. Literally. He has a coupon allotment for the week (if you didn’t do the coupon thing he’d NEVER get any work done).

He LIVES for the skin-to-skin contact and is very disappointed when he has to put clothes back on for guests or meetings. He’s just doing what’s best for his son, okay?

That child is going to be spoiled AF. Always wanting to be held or next to his papa.

Diavolo isn’t allowed to do the chest carrier because he gets so excited about stuff he might sling the kid around on accident (Barbatos banned it after he held the baby through some paperwork and spent half the time playing with his feet).

Can never get over how tiny his son is, or how he can hold him in one hand. Somehow works it into every conversation.

Will work his kid into every conversation. Has pictures to go along with it.

His official Devilgram is 80% his kid or you (or both), 5% Barbatos, 5% other people, and 10% bad shots he doesn’t know how to delete.

Almost all of his Devilgram videos were taken by Barbatos because Diavolo absolutely loses it when the baby speaks gibberish. He dies laughing and just can’t hold it together. The video is just shaky and blurry otherwise.

You’d think every time he sees him is the first time because Diavolo is so smitten and amazed

The Little D’s of the castle are always giggling to themselves and racing to tell you that they caught Diavolo peppering kisses on his little baby forehead or fists.

He’s a really involved and happy dad. Childlike and joyful by nature, he’s super invested in his kid. Sometimes it’s like you have two, but Diavolo means well.

Decent at all reverse psychology ploys. Kid doesn’t want mommy’s affection? More for him! Kid’s not hungry? He’ll eat it, then (and the dessert that they totally can’t have now)!

Can’t really discipline. Feels too guilty. Threatens the child with Barbatos or you.

Is really surprised when the kid has a ‘mom day’ where it seems like he doesn’t exist but totally understands (”Your mom has that affect on me, too.”)

Hope you liked it :)

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Diavolo x Reader

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snowdice · 4 years

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There Are Things That Are Lost (Part 5 of the series “Is There Anything Left of Patton.”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?), Virgil & Patton (?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton(?)

Summary: Virgil’s lucky hoodie is missing. Patton is more helpful with this than Logan.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), It’s a zombie AU and Patton is a Zombie. Angst.

This is the fifth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton? For once we’re not going to have a big time skip between this one and the next one so watch out for their trip to the Home Depot next week.

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

Food You’ll Never Eat

Things You’ll Never Do

“Ugh,” Virgil groaned. “Where’s my hoodie?!” Patton turned at the slightly louder sound of his voice and shambled over to him. Unwilling to deal with him right now, Virgil took the couch cushion he’d been looking under and raised it between them as a barrier. Patton glommed onto it and Virgil pushed a bit, so he stumbled back. Apparently, he’d been too rough because he fell and landed on his butt continuing to grip at the pillow mindlessly.

“Don’t be mean to Patton,” Logan scolded, walking into the room.

“Have you seen my hoodie?” Virgil asked him.

“You need to keep better track of your stuff,” Logan said. He pulled the pillow out of Patton’s grip meeting very little resistance.

“That is not helpful,” Virgil spat.

Logan grunted as he leaned over and pulled Patton to his feet by the underarms. Patton grabbed for his face once he was standing. “Hush dear,” Logan mumbled, gently taking his hands in his and pulling them away. “It’s okay.” Then he turned his attention back to Virgil. “Based on data from the last three months, I predict you’ll find it in a place you ‘swear you didn’t put it’ within the next 2-3 days. Then, you’ll inevitably loose it again within the week.”

“… I don’t appreciate your tone.”

Logan did not bother to respond to him this time. He simply settled Patton on the couch with gentle pushes. They had found that he was much more likely to acquiesce if they just poked him in the direction they wanted him to go instead of shoving. He liked to push back against things that were too forceful, but if you just nudged him, he tended to accept it. They’d figured out a lot of things like that ever since they’d started to let him off the leash a bit.

Virgil had convinced Logan to let Patton walk around on his own sometimes almost three months ago, honestly mostly out of boredom after a month being stuck inside by the winter weather. He’d cited the fact that the zombie couldn’t exactly figure out how to open doors or anything, and neither of them were worried he’d eat them at this point. All they had to do to keep him contained was make sure the exits of the room they wanted him in were closed. They didn’t even need to lock them; they could probably just put up one of those baby cages.

Okay, maybe not that. Sometimes when he got in attack mode, he could push really hard. Last month Virgil’d forgotten to close the door to the kitchen and had ended up being tackled for a piece of raw meat he’d been intending to cook. It had been all types of traumatizing to watch him eat something bloody while being held to the ground. Beyond just the instinctual fear, there’d also been the thought that maybe being covered in blood would finally activate his eat human mode and Virgil would be desert. Yet, the most he’d done to Virgil was shove at him with his creepy ass fingers. Patton was lucky Virgil had some weird misplaced affection for him after that stunt. Logan also was lucky for the same reason; else he would have murdered the man for laughing after he realized exactly what had happened.

With a dramatic sigh, Virgil flopped down on the couch next to Patton and immediately had fingers on his arm. “Do you know where my hoodie is?” he asked Patton, pushing the fingers away. Patton made a puffy moaning sound. Virgil nodded along. “I already checked there, but thanks for being more help than Logan.”

Logan glared at him. “It’s too warm for it anyway,” he pointed out. It was true, but that didn’t soothe him.

“And if a zombie comes and tries to bite me, I’d like to have more than a t-shirt for cover,” Virgil grumbled. “No offence, Pat.”

He figured since Patton didn’t stop with the grabbing at his face that he did not take any offence.

“The hoodie isn’t going to give you any more cover if a zombie attacks you,” Logan pointed out.

“Well, it certainly helps when this zombie attacks me,” Virgil said as fingers continued to touch him. He’d usually put up his hood and pull the strings tight to prevent the slightly too cold touch from hitting his skin when Patton did this.

“The lost hoodie is your own fault and I have no sympathy for you. Keep better track of your things.”

Virgil stuck out his tongue. “Fine,” he said. “you’d better hope I don’t die in an accident that could have been prevented by a hoodie when we go out today. ‘Cause I’ll haunt you.”

“Yes,” he snapped, “because I need more dead loved ones hanging around my house.”

…

Oops.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, properly cowed.

Logan sighed and sat down in the armchair across from him. “No, I’m sorry. That reaction was needlessly provocative.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was battling a headache.

They’d been at each other throats the past couple of months. January and February had been particularly hard with the snow and the cold. They’d been snowed in the house with only each other and a zombie whose presence could either make Logan soft and sad or irritable at the flip of a coin. Now it was nearing April and though it had been snowing still two weeks ago, the weather had broken a day ago and it was suddenly edging on hot, at least in comparison.

Hopefully with a little fresh air they’d be able to calm down a bit around each other.

Speaking of.

“It’s fine Lo,” Virgil said. “I get it. We should probably get going if you’re ready.” At some point during the winter, they’d apparently sprung a leak in the corner of the living room by the armchair. They often woke up to the carpet damp and Logan was worried there might be rot if they let it go much longer. So, since the weather seemed to be holding, they were going on a mission to get lumber and some other supplies to hopefully fix it. The hope was that the Home Depot wasn’t too overrun and the wood there was good. Otherwise they’d have to chop down a tree themselves which would make a lot of noise: not exactly a good thing when flesh eating creatures that were drawn to loud noises were wondering around.

Logan nodded at his reminder and looked over at Patton, the skin around his mouth tightening.

Well, they certainly weren’t going to just leave him alone in the upstairs to roam by himself. Yet, Virgil knew putting him in the basement hurt Logan more than he let on.

There wasn’t anything for it.

They walked together towards the basement entrance, hidden carefully behind a few bookcases in Logan’s study. Virgil whistled long and low and, as anticipated, a couple of moments later, Patton lumbered towards them.

Virgil was glad that Patton wasn’t able to make the connection between where they were drawing him and the basement below because, if Patton was capable of hating anything anymore, he hated the basement. He imagined if Patton could produce the fleeting thought that coming to the study = cage in the basement, he would fight them all the way.

He was always discontent in the basement. The more restrained he was, the worse his sounds and struggling became. It was some instinct, Virgil guessed. After all, how were zombies supposed to hunt and eat people alive if they were trapped? Of course, Patton didn’t actually have to worry about that since he and Logan kept him very well fed, but the chomping living beings instinct seemed to be the only zombie instinct shut off for him. So, he’d still mindlessly shove against things restraining him just like he’d still reach for things and pull them to him and he’d still follow loud noises and dramatic movements. Just like he’d still chase you down and tackle you if you weren’t careful. He just didn’t eat you at the end of it all.

The point was, considering how strong he could be when he wanted to, it was fortune that he didn’t understand where they were going.

Unfortunately, Logan did.

He took a measured breath and pressed the lever that would open the basement door. “Come here, dear,” he requested. Patton turned his attention to Logan, reaching out to him. Logan grabbed one of his hands and pulled softly, causing him to stumble forward in confusion. “Come on,” he coaxed, “it’ll be fine.”

“Want help?” Virgil asked, pitching his voice low as to not attract as much attention from Patton. His hands moved towards where his hoodie pocket would usually be, but then fisted at his sides since he was just in a t-shirt. Virgil always asked even though he always got the same answer.

“I can handle it,” Logan said, his voice measured. Virgil just nodded once and leaned against the door to wait.

Want to read more? The next part of this series is…

There Are Things That Are Missing

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #?#adriana writes #zombie au #past major character death #angst #italop #platonic analogical #platonic moxiety #(sorta?)

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pidgeonspen · 4 years

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Hugo, the main antagonist of Carey’s story, finally gets his time to shine! Bio under cut.

Age: 45 Occupation: Head of Empire City’s criminal underground (Essentially a mob boss really) Location: Empire City State Penitentiary

Personality: Assertive, cunning, unforgiving, and violent - that is how most people would describe Hugo, and they’re not wrong. But Hugo didn’t reach the top by being a dumb, angry brute; he’s far more intelligent than he lets on, and when not giving orders or dealing with his enemies, he’s rather soft spoken. He actually dislikes using his voice and had to force himself out of his childhood shyness that plagued him well into his teens. Despite his best efforts, his emotions sometimes do get the better of him and lead him into making some rash decisions. But make no mistake - Hugo is still a hardened criminal at the end of the day, and he has dealt out many violent ends to those who have crossed him. He’s no longer the pushover he was as a child. Skills: Hugo is a skilled leader, willing to take charge and do what needs to be done. He focuses on being efficient and practical, but is still very willing to take whatever measures necessary to put others in their place. His large size also grants him raw, brutal physical strength and while he moves slowly, he’s a dangerous opponent in a fight. He’s also skilled with firearms.

Backstory:

Raised by his harsh grandfather Heiko, Hugo was the middle child between his older brother, Yama, and their baby sister, Pema, Hugo has always found himself at the end of someone elses leash. His parents had tragically been murdered by a local loanshark shortly after Pema's birth. Despite his hardheadedness, Heiko wanted a future for his grandchildren, and moved the small family out west, to try and find a better life in Empire City over in Northamer. Hugo was only 7 when the move was made; Pema had just turned 2 and Yama was a boy of 14. Together, they sought out to find a new beginning in the promising land of Empire City.

Unfortunately, the big city wasn't all glitz and glam as advertised. The small family found themselves living in the slums, barely eking by even when Heiko landed a factory job. Yama was put to work as a delivery boy for a nearby company, and Hugo was made to watch over and care for Pema. All three children had to grow up quickly, but the most affected was Yama, who had grown irate and bitter towards Heiko for moving the family in such a hurry. Hugo grew quiet over the years, keeping his head low to avoid the tempers of both his grandfather and older brother, all while caring for young Pema.

When Hugo turned 12, he was made to work with Yama, while an ailing Heiko grew unable to work and stayed home with Pema. Hugo was valued for his obedient, reliable nature - but Yama's other co-workers quickly took to bullying the boy for his quiet nature. While it stung, Hugo didn't think much of it; Yama, on the other hand, was infuriated at how his little brother was being treated. Things unfortunately came to a head on a fateful night when the son of the company's owner accompanied the boys on a job. The heir of the company quickly took to bullying Hugo, and went so far as to begin kicking and beating on the boy while Yama was dropping off the delivery. When Yama returned and found his brother bloodied up from the encounter, he quickly retaliated and broke the heir's jaw in a skirmish. After collecting their pay and heading home, Heiko punished and berated Yama for his actions; Yama's job was the only thing keeping food on the table, and his recklessness and refusal to keep his head low is exactly what got his parents killed. A fight was about to break out between the two when there was a knock at the door. Pema rushed to answer, and a group of armed men made their way inside, dragging the young girl by her hair as they approached the others.

It turned out that the delivery company Yama and Hugo had been working for was a front for one of Empire City's big mafia families, the Guōs, and the boy Yama beat - Wei Guō - was the son of the head of that mafia, Chen Guō. Despite the skirmish that had almost gone down, Heiko didn't hesitate to throw himself at the feet of the mobsters, begging that his grandchildren be spared for his grandson's foolish behavior, and offered to take whatever punishment had been intended for the boy. His pleas fell on deaf ears. Heiko, Yama, Pema and Hugo were all brutally beaten, and all but Hugo and Pema were executed. Hugo was told he owed the family a great debt for sparing him and his sister - a debt he would work tirelessly to pay off if he wanted to ensure his sister's safety.

Working for the family, Hugo did a lot of work, taking orders from Wei and his friends and often having to push himself to the brink of exhaustion, much to Wei's amusement, as well as helping at the Guō household by cooking and cleaning. Because Wei was often off with his friends and causing trouble, Hugo often found himself working quietly around Chen, who took a liking to the mastiff because of his devotion and competence, especially compared to his own son who he often criticized as a "manchild". Hugo continued to work for the Guō family for 7 years, spending whatever downtime he had playing games of chess with Chen or otherwise keeping the aging head of the family company while Wei continued to shirk his responsibilities and often abuse his power. Hugo had become known for his intimidating presence and his strength, but was ultimately defined by his loyalty to the family. Eventually, Chen's health began to deteriorate and he passed away, leaving Wei to take his place.

Working in the family under Wei's rule was difficult; Chen's teachings had fallen upon deaf ears, as all Wei cared about was making money, flaunting it, doing drugs and sleeping around. He had no understandings of how the system worked, how to maintain hold on their territory, or how to keep his men in line. Fortunately for the family, Hugo had been paying attention, and did as much damage control behind the scenes as he could without alerting Wei. This went on for 5 years.

Pema was killed at the age of 19, after being taken hostage along with some of Wei's other men -- Wei openly mocked his enemies in response, and was utterly unaffected when his inaction lead to the the hostages being killed. Wei's men had been growing increasingly frustrated with Wei's poor leadership, and few took issue when Hugo, enraged, called Wei out on having single-handedly destroyed the family.

Wei was unimpressed and unmoved, and, tired of hearing Hugo rant at him, ordered his men to put the mastiff down -- only to find no one would follow his orders. Hugo had been the one running things for years now, while Wei wasted his time partying and ignoring his duties. In the end, no one stood between Wei and Hugo, and when the latter caved in Wei's skull, no one complained. Hugo was now officially recognized as the head of the family, and he was going to make some changes.

Hugo’s rise to power saw the Guō family steadily rise up in the ranks, and within the first few years under his charge, they killed and took the territories of 3 rival families. By the time Hugo was 30, Empire City was left with only 3 other major crime families. Hugo managed to negotiate an agreement between the factions, assigning territories as well as helping buy off or blackmail some of the city’s more powerful politicians and officers. After this, Hugo handed over control to the Guō family to a subordinate he’d been working closely with, and began “cleaning up” other aspects of the criminal underground, setting up rules and reigning in the previously chaotic and out-of-control rabble into something a little more structured, and far more profitable. He still maintained his status within the Guō family, and had the respect of the others.

Hugo knew he could never truly leave this life; he lost his parents to it, his grandfather, brother, and eventually his sister. He’d always felt the pull of this life since he was a boy, deep down knowing no matter where he went, or what he did, he’d always be pulled back in until the day he finally drowned in it. And so he came to the conclusion that if this is how it’s going to be, he’s going to take charge and maintain it until his dying breath. And so the next few years were spent doing just that - Hugo was recognized as the unofficial head of all the families, in charge of organized crime throughout the city. He had a penthouse within the city, a degree of immunity from the law, and power. The few who challenged Hugo rarely even made it past his men, and those who did met a violent end.

But just 6 years later something happened that would forever change Hugo’s life.

When a small, ragtag couple of nobodies looking to earn his favor picked up a 14yo orphaned girl who came from the Southern Baronies, nobody could have imagined the waves their actions would eventually send throughout Empire City. This little girl, a plucky pup named Carey Jess, realized the people who took her in were planning to betray her and present the fruits of their “labor” to some guy named “Hugo”, she got the drop on them instead and got away with the prize. This got a chuckle out of Hugo, and he continued to hear of this kids exploits, her skills as a pickpocket, her cunning and adventures. Eventually, he sent for her and got to meet her face to face.

Learning her story, and how much she embraced this life as a part of her, Hugo couldn’t help but slowly be endeared by the pup. He saw himself in her, and he took her in as a protege.

Over the next 6 years, Hugo grew to love Carey as a daughter. She was quirky, optimistic, and eager to please and was, for Hugo, a bright light in a rather bleak world. But business was business, and he couldn’t risk growing too soft. He was sure he wasn’t, but his men began to talk in whispers of how his adoration for Carey was clouding his judgement; Carey would be a poor choice to replace him, she was unfit for the gig. Some even believed she would betray Hugo given the chance.

When Carey had turned 20, Hugo decided it was time to put her to the test, to put an end to all the doubts and accusations abound. The target was Empire City’s biggest bank, a heist unlike any other. And Carey was on it. Hugo had gifted her a much-needed prosthetic as a sign of good faith. ... Faith that may have been misplaced. The heist was a calamity, with Carey at the center of it all. The last Hugo saw of her was the spaniel running away from the scene as the cops came and apprehended him, his immunity out the window for making such a brash move.

Now Hugo sits in prison, waiting for the day when he can exact his revenge on Carey...

#oc: hugo #my art #my sonic fcs

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dotchi13 · 5 years

Text

The Bitties are here and the Ask Box is Open!

A big heaping thanks to @calmchapsart for making this, it looks adorable!

Okay so I have been searching the tags for Bittybones and I really couldn’t find any of them for the darker Sans’ (Guess that makes sense considering where they came from and not a lot of people want Bitties that are able to kill them, so...).

But with the making of my fic ‘It All Started With a Mistake’: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587800/chapters/38873285 I had decided I wanted to make profiles on the bitties, their types and other things. If you want to learn more about them that I don’t get into here and go more in depth, just send me an ask and I or the Bitties themselves can answer you!

That’s right, we have Murder, Toriel, Horror, Nightmare and Killer here to answer all questions to the fic or to their types in General. (You can also give them things to respond to if so inclined or ask them personal questions unless stated otherwise.)

Murder Bitties (Dusttale):

Personality: Murder Bitties carry quite a loathing for themselves and other Sans types, though no one really knows why, and if left alone with another Sans bitty Murder’s will fall into a deep depression and will either ignore their existence, isolating themselves from going anywhere other than their own home and/or start violent fights that may end in the other Sans Bitty’s dusting if not strong enough, even if it is from anything as light-hearted as a Baby Blue or a Dream. If given another bitty to bond with, they bond hard and fast, and will always stick by the other bitty’s side to give them protection even if the other bitty is in no danger, and will be extremely territorial no matter the nature of the relationship.

Likes: Finding ways to vent (Like Drawing or Sparring), Caring for the Bitties they have bonded with and Going with their Whims, morbid jokes.

Dislikes: Sans Bitties, Nightmares, Feeling Cornered or Being given limited options.

Clear Warnings: You have to be Willing to buy more than one bitty and they cannot be only Sans’, even a Little Bro (Underswap Papyrus) can help Murders stay stable. Be patient and Understanding, and if you have any Sans Bitties of any kind make sure they steer clear of one another. Toriels or Papyrus’ of any kind will sate their need for companionship best, though Murders will bond with any other bitty around, Being Alone will drive them insane and their coping mechanism comes in the form of something known as ‘The Phantom Papyrus’.

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Horror Bitties (Horrortale):

Personality: They are almost always Hungry and Always looking for food to eat, to stash and keep close by, always give him your scraps or he will hate you until you learn your lesson. If in the company of Papyrus or Toriel he will feed them first before eating himself, and if in the presence of multiple Papyri or Toris he will feed Teeths and Mumchers first (Horrortale Papryus’ and Toriels). If you provide the food he will actively be your guard dog, viciously protecting you from outside forces with his teeth or whatever sharp thing he can get his hands as he’ll dust first before letting a food source of his die, food being the best thing to bond him to you.

Likes: Food, Being Lazy, Axe Plushies, Naps, Dark Jokes, and more food.

Dislikes: Aggressive Bitties, Undyne Bitties, Anyone whom Wastes Food, Anyone whom would withhold food from anyone for any reason.

Clear Warnings: Never ever withhold food from a Horror Bitty unless you like being cut. Never take a Horror Bitty’s Axe plushie, or they will find another source of comfort from something much more dangerous. Always have food on hand for them and in their vicinity, they are ones for late night snacks. If there is any actively aggressive bitties in your home, never ever let them be around each other, Horrors will only take their demanding personality for a short amount of time with quiet hatred before he actively tries to tear their throats out, something that occurs even faster when the aggressive bitty is facing a bitty Horror protects.

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Nightmare Bitties (Dreamtale):

Personality: Nightmare Bitties are perceptive, sarcastic and demanding, though at their core all they really want is someone to appreciate them and their abilities. Though that does not happen often, seeing as they have the ability to create nightmares and always gives them to everyone in their vicinity as an incentive for others to try and get on their good side, and when they do, the Nightmare bitty then eats the nightmares they once gave the owners and other bitties as a reward. They are responsible bitties and if told to devote themselves to a cause (Eating the Nightmares of a PTSD-suffering Owner or keeping a Killer in check), they devote themselves to the cause as it makes them feel like people and bitties appreciate them, however be wary as if you put them to a short-term cause they will likely destroy all the work put into it so they still have a purpose being alive and around.

Likes: Nightmares, Visiting people in Nightmares, Nightmare fuel movies or stories, Dark Humor, Being appreciated and valued.

Dislikes: Stupidity, Murderous Bitties trying to kill them (Never works), Being Told to their Face they are only tolerated because of their abilities and not for them being a sentient and companionable bitty.

Clear Warnings: Do not get them if you are not prepared for nightmares at the beginning of owning them, you can gain the bitty’s trust and love fast with well-placed compliments and care, but you have to be prepared for at least a couple of nights having bad dreams, and if you already have constant nightmares do not think they will suddenly stop on the first night, it will take a little bit of time, he will come to visit you in them and learn your worst fears. Also never abuse them, at some point they will dig into the walls of your home, curl up into a ball and fall into a coma, and everyone in radius will become worse and worse as Nightmares will magnetize all negative emotions to themselves until getting enough power to make their owners start seeing their nightmares in real life and drive them to becoming certifiably insane or worse.

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Killer Bitties:

Personality: Their Souls are warped with determination, an extremely rare bitty that is usually only bought by Experts that want to complete their collections, they only have a small range of emotions, Apathy, Hatred and Amusement, you are able to tell what they are feeling from the black sludge trailing down his maxilla (cheekbones), that being liquid hatred. Being that they are so unable to feel things, they are quite violent and will actively seek out other bitties to dust for amusement unless having a tight leash on them by a Nightmare or Color bitty to keep the Killer bitty stable. If a Nightmare is looking over them, Killers will be kept from wanting to kill and will be more open to Amusement, but that is about it, there will be no further improvements, while a Color watching over a Killer can help him feel all emotions and will even help him become reformed to a Classic Sans with permanent black tears and a red soul on display.

(Base-level Killer) Likes: Killing living creatures, Morbid Jokes, Torture, Doing things to ruin people’s day, Protective Bitties seeing as they are easy to mess with.

(Base-Level Killer) Dislikes: Being punished for the things they find enjoyable, Being Bored.

Clear Warning: Never EVER buy a Killer without a Nightmare or Color unless you like attempts to your life and your bitties being dusted.

#Bittybones #Calmchapsart #Bittytypes #Fanfic #send me asks #Soriel Warning I suppose?#I hope I don't regret this #Murder Bitty #Toriel Bitty #Horror Bitty #Nightmare Bitty #Killer Bitty

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mikosdreams · 5 years

Text

HEAR ME

CHAPTER FOUR: HEARTBEAT

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

Kim Namjoon starring as Choi Woojun

McDoine Nancy starring as Rey Yukina

Green Viridiana starring as Irina

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Woojun shuffles around the eggs in the frying pan, breaking them apart as the pancakes set on two plates beside him. Silky skin run against his skin, Irina rests the side of her head against his back. "Good morning, Junie~" She calls out to him, sleepiness still covering her voice. "Good morning, Nana." He greets back as he puts the scrambled eggs on their plates, "May I finish up breakfast?" He asks as a smile wraps up on his lips as his fingers dance across her arms. Irina slowly moves away from him and sets herself in a chair at the island, "No bacon?" She asks as she watches him put a tiny scoop of ice cream on their pancakes. "Remember what happened to your mouth?" He asks as he takes a side glance and Irina groans, "Yes, painful but tasty." She whines as she slumps in her chair. "I don't think Ulits are supposed to have so much oil because you had the same incidents with deep fried." He says as he sets down their food in front of them, "But I promised sausage is just as good." He says as he starts to eat his food.

Irina smiles as she watches him, both in blissful silence for once in a while as they eat. Woojun holds the folded newspaper in his left hand, using his right hand to transfer between eating and drinking his black coffee. His thick-rimmed reading glasses stay perched nicely on his nose as he reads down the long article. The Ulit smiles as she looks out the kitchen window, seeing the sunlight slowly crawl to push the lingering shadows off the neighborhood. Most people are still underneath the covers of their bed and others are possible at work by now, this is what Irina called home after being here a year.

A grin replaces her soft smiles as she sees Minho barrel out of his house, a messy head of hair and wrinkled dinosaur pajamas. Crackers following soon after the eight-year-old and a sleepy mother carrying a jug of orange juice in one hand, coffee in the other as she heads towards their house. The front door slams against the wall in the foyer, Woojun shakes his head as a smile stretches back on his face as he towards to see the small child run in the room. "Hi, Woojun! Hi, mommy! Momma brought orange!" He shouts happily as he picks up Crackers to set him in the chair to share, "Mommy could I have some oatmeal?" He asks sweetly with big puppy eyes.

"Of course, baby. Peaches or apples?" Irina asks as she pushes the half ate plate in front of Yukina, who thanks her quietly. "Peaches, please!" He smiles as Crackers quakes loudly in agreement as Woojun stands up to make a small bowl of duck food. "What are we going to do today, Minho?" Woojun asks as he sets the small bowl in front of the duck before sitting down, "I don't know but Crackers needs a swimming pool." Minho replies as he sets Crackers on the table to eat. "A swimming pool?" Woojun blurts out in shock as his eyes widen making him look ridiculous, "Yes! He needs to swim, he is a duck." Minho says nonchalantly as he starts to eat his oatmeal. Irina laughs as Woojun glares at her and Yukina smiles a bit, "He been talking about it nonstop." Yukina admits as she finishes off her coffee, "Could I sleep in your room, Irina? I have an awful headache." She asks as she rubs her head, "Of course, Yukina." She smiles as she gives her a small shoulder rub before taking the dirty dishes.

Irina holds Crackers leash as Minho convinced her to take him to buy a kiddie pool for his best friend, Woojun wanted to drive them but Crackers doesn't do well in car rides or being home alone. Minho gasps as he points at the small pools that are set up outside for viewing, excitement rushes through him as he starts to run to the small convenience store. Laughter flows through Irina as she follows Minho happy, Crackers quaking loudly as he runs beside the woman. It is times like this, Irina forgets. She forgets this isn't her home, this world is different.

It was all too fast for her, too fast for her to react in time. The car set in front of his small body, his swallow but rapid breathing reaches her ears as she rushes over to him. Her hands lifting and carefully placing him so he could breath better, the man steps outside of the car. His lips were moving but all she could focus on was his breathing and heartbeat, her baby was struggling. Her baby is suffering in pain and she is unable to take it all away, she is unable to help. Hands wrap around her arms and pull her away from Minho, Crackers is removed when he tries to attack. The paramedics surround him, talking amongst themselves.

"Irina!" Woojun calls as he runs past the police and wrap his arms around her, "I am so sorry." She cries out as her arms wrap around the tall human. "I forgot. I forgot." She sobs into his shirt as she looks away from the scene, unable to watch when she is unable to hear his small heart. "It is okay, accidents happen." He whispers into her hair as he watches them close the door, "We need to go get Yukina and head to the hospital." He pulls away from her to get a better look of her face. He is crushed seeing her so miserable, he pulls her close as he heads to his vehicle. The duck is silently watching them through the window, it was obvious that Minho meant so much to all of them but this was going to destroy Yukina.

Irina sat in the backseat as she holds Crackers, Woojun went inside to retrieve Yukina. It wasn't long until loud sobs were heard, Woojun helps the mother out of his home and into his car. Her sobs fill the once quietness but do nothing to help their sadness, the sadness that was chained to a boulder at the bottom of the sea. The alien looks up when she felt the vehicle stops moving, "Yukina, whatever happens, I need you to know that this is an accident. No one meant to hurt Minho." He whispers to Yukina. Irina sets Crackers down and steps out of the car, she is unable to handle the talking. The woman drags her heavy feet towards the hospital, she stands at the desk quietly for a minute before speaking up. "Rey Minho." She states as the nurse looks up startled by her presence, "I'm sorry?" The nurse asks in shock. "Rey Minho, the boy that was rushed here." She says again, her emotions stir inside her like she is about to snap if she doesn't know where Minho is. The nurse types quickly and after a few moments look up, "Are you a relative?" She asks and her eyes drift behind the Ulit. "I am his mother." Yukina speaks up as she places a hand on Irina's back, Irina flinches feeling like Yukina should be furious with her instead of so caring.

"Minho is still in surgery, once he is out I will take you to his room." The nurse replies calmly as she stands up and leaves, hopefully, to go check. They sit down in silence as their minds drift to Minho, all hoping he is going to be okay. Irina closes her eyes, she can hear his heartbeat in her ears. It is stable but slow like he is fighting. A sob rips from her, lending forward as her body is thrown into a coughing fit. Yukina and Woojun rub her back, comforting motion. Letting her get it out of her system, "Minho will be okay." Yukina whispers as she strokes Irina's hair. "How do you know?" She cries out as she holds her head in her hands, "He is my son and he has always been a fighter, this isn't his first battle with death himself." She answers as she watches Irina with teary eyes, "My son has the heart of a fighter and a soul of a lover. He is going to make it." She says confidently as she pulls Irina in her arms.

"Miss Rey?" The nurse calls out, "He is asleep but you can see him now." She says as she waits for them to gather their pieces up and follow her. "The doctor will be back in a few hours," She says as they enter the room, "Get sleep if you can. It's going to be a long night." She leaves quietly as they look at the boy who is attached to a few machines and bandaged up quite a bit. Nonetheless, his heart is beating strong, breathing on his own. His mother is right, he is a fighter but that doesn't make the pain hurt any less or disappear, Irina carefully holds his small hand in hers as she watches him sleep. "I am sorry." She whispers as she watches him with a loving but scared stare, "I hope you can still love me."

--- END ---

@queenqk

#mikosdreams #hear me #chapter four #sad #very very sad for me #at least #sorry for sadness #... i think #it has to happen at some point #heartbeat

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unicorn-sprinkles-101 · 5 years

Text

I'm an autistic, mentally ill young adult who very desperately needs to find a new place to live.

I can't exactly recount what happened during most of my childhood but I have to say that my parents have drastically spiraled out of control since then.

My mother had never really been a big impact on my life other than being my primary guardian and taking me from place to place. Other than that, she has little to no emotional connection to me and especially not now. I don't really "hate" anyone listed here, I just don't care for my family anymore and don't want anything to do with any of them.

My mother is completely unable to work, relying mostly on disability since I was a baby due to an ongoing condition. My father refuses to get a better job to support my mother and I, often leaving us with around $5-$10 at a for gas money (often with tons of quarters) or to take with me when it is absolutely required.

Now that I've turned 18, things have gotten much harder when it comes to me being used for financial gain. I do admit that alot of that money was used towards me in some way or another while I was growing up, but not anymore.

While my father is unable to let go of grandmother's old house (which has gone to shambles), one of my mother's friends has lives under us in the basement after being rendered homeless, which can make akward when describing family troubles.

She started living with us a while ago after her trailer finally caved in after we packed water jugs back and forth to her location for several years.

Ever since she moved here, she's developed an overbearing attachment to her "animals". It got so bad she refused time and time again to put her very ill 16-year-old dog to sleep, rendering them unable to walk, see, eat or hear for months on end. The breaking point was when they bled out all over the kitchen (which we knew would happen eventually), which was traumatic for us and highly unnecessary for the dog to go through considering how miserable they were when they came here.

She has made tons very rude and hurtful comments to me about how I'm such an "abuser" when I told her dogs (she has 3) to go away or get off the couch in front of her. She often claims that I'm abusive towards my guinea pigs, saying that I don't "take care of [my] animals".

This friend of my mother has also made comments ranging from my weight to my behavior and called me names ranging from "brat" to the more recent "trashy white girl" while my mother rolls her eyes and tells me it was all just a joke.

She's physically done things towards me such as shoving me out of the way, crushing me on the bed, and almost hauling a foot tall scratching post towards my direction after I refused to get her a broom the second she demanded it (I ended up getting it for her anyway.

However, physical altercations between me and my mom's friend are very rare and this type of behavior is often seen as the norm in my area, so unless it's something that left bruises or sexual assault, it isn't really that big of a deal compared to the other stuff I face on a daily basis.

It only got worse after I graduated from highschool. It got so bad that it became worse than all of the countless harassment I faced throughout my highschool education combined.

I was forced to give up over 3/4s of my $700 worth of graduation money to my mother in order to pay off bills, food, and other neccessities. While I ended up snagging some small gifts for myself (apx. $120) before it was all sucked up, I know I'll probably never be able to get paid back that amount of money from either one of them and I feel extremely cheated as a result.

While I was legitimately excited to see them grow as people in a good home, my sister's kids have drastically changed for the worse ever since they've been shoved in a tiny old trailer and moved back to the classic small town community full of people with money (maybe extracurriculars will keep them busy).

The youngest of them (8), who is often dumped here on a daily basis, has disrespected us in a variety of ways including: eating at the computer after my mom's friend made a rule not to, not picking up after themselves when they did so (often leaving uneaten food out), and using every other dollar my mom had to go get candy and drinks from the Dollar Store (they stole my leftover change in front of me and lied about it, but that was a one-time occurrence).

The back room often smells like trash because my mother puts off going to the dump until the very last minute.

Nobody can keep up with the animals, use a flyswatter on the cat to keep it from climbing everything and having to lock it up so it wouldn't take the food straight off our plates while we were eating.

While two of the dogs from my mom's friend stay downstairs in the basement, the third one stays up here and refuses to go downstairs.

The dog is well-behaved (aside from agressive barking) but while it doesn't pee anywhere in the house (as far as we know), it appears to leave, traces of leftover urine on pillows, blankets, and the furniture (or at least the odor, although I felt small wet spots on the couch before) which could spread germs, not good for someone with a few open sores.

None of them use leashes, so when this dog bursts out the door it takes off up the street aggressively barking at everyone and everything, with little to no repercussions from either adult. The overly intense noise from this small dog has gotten way out of hand, making me a nervous wreck.

These two stress factors combined with everything else makes it impossible to keep the house clean by nearly any means (I'm doing my best just to sweep off the porch).

I'm grateful that my mom's friend took one last shot at trying to clean up the bedroom, but there's no point in trying to keep anything kept up when all it does is get destroyed.

Moving to my own place means I won't have to look after anyone else but me and my pets (guinea pigs). However, I don't have anyone to support me in my endeavors.

As my parents often failed to attend my physical and emotional needs, I became highly unstimulated and constantly stressed as a result. This has lead to severe bouts of depression and executive dysfunction, which has caused my mom's friend's harassment to get even worse.

Not only did they fail to properly take care of my needs all throughout highschool, we've never been able to afford ANY sort of renovations to the house during our residence here (about 8 years), aside from basic roofing which was performed by a small Hispanic business instead of a professional company.

The only two instances of DIY fix-ups I can remember during my 8 years here are replacing the shattered windows with plexiglass (which happened years ago) and recently restoring some of the rotten floorboards under the washer that were caked in mold.

The simple act of taking a shower has now become one of my worst dreaded nightmares and unless I move to a safe environment then I won't ever be able to properly take care of myself like I dream of doing someday.

Even though it'll take top surgery to make me feel comfortable taking showers again, moving to an inspected apartment means I have one less worry about falling through the basement and the rancid smell of burnt urine that sometimes reeks from the basement.

I never went outside much, aside from sitting on the corner of the porch since the rest of it was turned green by air conditioning water and the walkway was flooded by overgrown plants (even they've been given more respect than I have).

I often vented through various social platforms but I decided that enough is enough: I needed to grow as a person and stop shoving all my problems on others.

It was then I knew I had to find a way to escape. Unfortunately, in order to move out I needed at least a little bit of stable funding, which I'm very, very far from.

My sensory issues make it hard to gain interests in whatever food was cooked (ex. spaghetti, dumplings), and I didn't have the desire to eat expired canned greens from the food bank, which have since been covered in roach poo. They're pretty much everywhere you go.

Even the cleanest of countertops could be seen crawling with a few roaches. They reside deep within the microwave along with fried maggots from ages ago.

They have also made their way into the refrigerator, making it difficult to scour what little there is without feeling grossed out. It's getting harder day by day to tell the difference between of the smallest of bugs and pepper. Since we we can't afford a closed-top hamper, our dirty clothes are often covered in roaches trying to find a place to hide, making it difficult to gather the strength to wash them like I should.

They've also taken over my computer, rendering my unable to even touch it for months.

No amount of bombing, traps, or pesticides will clear them either. They were there to begin with, and they always come back.

There's even been an increase in other types of bugs, most notably fly's and gnats.

The Crock-Pot would often fill up with mold every other week because me and my mother didn't like chowing down on her friend's grand "homestyle cooking" every day.

We didn't eat it as much as we should've because it was often bland in taste and we don't know how to make her stop (I know I can't). She ended up making a fuss when we tried to make suggestions, so we let her get what she wants even if it wasting precious ingredients we could've used to make something we could actually eat.

To make up for it, I often had to buy single cans of Spaghettio's at a time from the Dollar Store and call it my meal for the day.

Now it seems like I can't even do THAT anymore.

It got to the point where I even considered that any drink besides water, hell even soda, could have some sort of nutritional value. It was better that eating nothing, after all.

I often pondered mother's financial choices when came to these things but as we all have been told "mother knows best" and we as children should not be allowed to question our parent's decision.

She recently told me my SSI completely cut because the government labels me as "being able to work". It turns out that they cut my disability check as opposed to SSI but I'm still left just as broken inside as before.

Why? Because there's absolutely no way I can save up such a large amount, we need every last drop to survive off of. I've used a very small portion of it to buy some little stuff to help me cope from time to time, but I'm gonna refrain from that from now on until I completely move out.

Even though the issue has been resolved for now, I'm tired of being dragged through hoops when I know they'll just try to cut it off again. I can't keep staying here because I'm sick and tired of having our only source of income dangling on a string.

I would really like to gain some much needed work experience and I plan on applying to Wal-Mart as soon as I upload this post.

However, there's one problem: I have no source of reliable transportation to get to my job.

My mother had to borrow money off of my grandmother (as she has done in the past) in order to have the gas to pick me up from therapy this week. While that tank of gas may last a bit, this is not sustainable enough for me to keep any sort of job regardless if it were part-time or full-time. The three job options in this very small town don't offer a position that would be comfortable enough for me to perform the tasks I am assigned and two are often known for mistreating their staff members on a regular basis.

Another reason I want to get a job in a bigger city is so I can continue to work once I move closer to Wal-Mart, which will save tremendous amounts of gas money and time. To avoid the trauma of driving, I will probably be using a transport bus as opposed to using a car.

The reason it appears that I don't look after my guinea pigs as much as I should is because their cages are inaccessible making it excruciatingly difficult to clean their cages and fufill their needs. With my own apartment to live in, I will have the ability make room for them and I can organize a place for my piggies in a much more open location free of mess.

I'd really like to keep them with me when I move alone, especially considering that I adopted one all the way from Louisville (I live around the west side of KY). I want to give Marlene the proper life she deserves after traveling across the state to take her beautiful soul home with me.

While I probably won't have access to a small animal veterinarian to get a proper diagnosis, my older guinea pig Chloe (about 4 years) had a massive tumor/cyst on her leg burst open a while back.

Her weight has drastically increased to the point where she feels like a limp water balloon when I attempt to pick her up, so it lead me to assume that her body is slowly being taken over by some form of internal cancer.

Even though there's nothing I can do to heal her, my ultimate wish is for Chloe to drift away peacefully in a safe environment free of bugs and other filth. This means that not only do I have myself to care for, but my two precious babies as well.

I admit that I have been going through a slow regression in regards to financial behavior, but I would love to learn how to shop responsibly while keeping my true interests at heart. I have plenty of plushies and figurines to keep me company at the moment. Some I'll sell to make room for new ones, but most of them will there to comfort me during stressful times.

After buying one of the most beautiful children's lamps I had ever seen at GoodWill, I soon found out that buying doesn't have to be boring and dull like all the adults have told us all our lives. I learned that you should buy furniture and clothes based on how it makes you feel instead of relying on others to tell you what to do, I would love to purchase decorations for my apartment that reflect who I want to become as a person.

Not everything should have to be about scrounging for my next meal.

However, the funds from this will go towards covering down-payment, rental costs, and buying a new setup for my guinea pigs if they are allowed at the apartment (I don't want to track bugs from the old cages, plus they need a bigger space).

I wanted to let you guys know that I will have to use a portion of the donations

to cover my mother's monthly electric bill. As much as I want to talk myself out of it, she literally relies on me for money so I don't exactly have the ability to opt-out of that right now.

The extra stuff (such as small appliances, furniture, groceries, and of course... a limited-edition plush or two) will be paid for using a compilation of my paycheck and whatever I earn off of Redbubble.

I'd love to start a YouTube channel where I do things like art, gaming, and reviews to strengthen my voice and get it out into the world in a peaceful, sanitary environment free from interruptions or harassment over a seemingly innocent/important subject matter.

There's lots of things that I missed out on when I was younger and I bet it would be so awesome to finally express myself free of constant toxicity and hatred.

I deeply love OK K.O. and I'd love to honor the impact that this person of color and his creation has left on me someday, as well as continue down my path of original content that I've been waiting to share with you guys!

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chokefriends · 5 years

Text

Pit-town Strays, Ch.5

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything’s fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no warnings. Ch 5: Law explores his escape routes but knows he isn’t going anywhere.

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - [Ch. 5]

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

Law was still staring at the same channel when Bellamy and Dellinger returned an hour later. Law heard them rumble up, and muted the sound to signal the all-clear.

“Fish tacos for Bellamy, gross curry for Law,” Dellinger unpacked their takeout onto the coffee table and dug into his own.

“Thanks,” Law muttered, but didn't get up from the armchair.

“Uh,” Bellamy pointed furtively to Law's arm. The wrist was purpling.

“Shit…” Law pulled his sleeve down over it and hooked his thumb through a hole in the hem. “Whatever. Whacked it on a thing.”

Bellamy stayed standing for a minute, scuffing a toe into the carpet. “Dad’s been worried a lot, is all,” he tried eventually.

“Yeah I know,” Law answered in the same tone.

“Y’know, cuz of this one,” Bellamy jabbed his thumb at the smallest of the three and shook his head.

“...”

The blunt face creased irritably at Law's silence, and Bellamy gave up. He sat down with a grunt to tear into his own takeout box.

“Dellinger,” he grouched at the only other target in the room, “Stop tryna reconstruct the squid, just eat it. God, can you not be such a psychopath? You're making everyone upset—”

“Bellamy.” Law cut him off with a warning look. “He's right here, don't say that.”

Dellinger seemed unperturbed, but very little ever seemed to bother him. “Actually, ‘psychopath’ is not even a thing anymore? And I don't fit the criteria according to this online test I took.”

“Psycho,” Bellamy accused.

“Not!”

Law rose with a sigh and went to sit between them on the couch. “What’d you get, Del.”

“Tentacles,” Dellinger showed him his seafood, with all the squid pieces collected in a little squidlike arrangement.

“Huh. Looks better than the frog leg thing, I guess.”

“That was just an experiment. I wasn't gonna eat it,” Dellinger rolled his eyes. “I saw online that the legs move by themselves if you put em in a saltwater solution. I just wanted to try.”

“That's pretty cool,” Law reassured him.

Bellamy scoffed. “That he's killing off all the pondlife around here? Yeah it's great.”

“I’m not even killing em, just snipping off their extra legs! Most of the frogs here have like three legs and four eyes anyway. Or more, closer you get to the Pit. It's the runoff.”

“Huh… Wonder if it'll start morphing humans too,” Law mused.

“Prolly just gives humans cancer.” Dellinger gave it some thought. “You think human legs could move by themselves?”

“Only one way to find out,” Law joked.

Bellamy gave a sudden snort of disgust, picked up his dinner, and disappeared off to his room. The door thunked shut and Nickelback started blaring through it.

Law ignored all this, but Dellinger looked at the closed door in confusion, then went back to stirring his food and fidgeting. They ate in silence for a while.

“I don't wanna make people upset,” the skinny kid spoke up eventually.

Law nodded, still chewing, but didn't respond right away.

Dellinger speared a tentacle and frowned at it. “I don't think it hurts them for real. And it's not like Dad or anyone even cares about frogs. Bellamy thinks it's funny to run them over…”

“I think they're worried about how it'll look to other people,” Law explained.

“Other people are stupid.”

“Yeah,” Law agreed. “Anyway, just stick to animals with extraneous appendages. And don't take any more experiments to school.”

“It’s not like I'm gonna take the legs off people's pets or whatever. Geez. It's just frogs…” Dellinger sighed and got up to go to bed as well. His room was way upstairs on the second floor, where Bellamy and Law used to sleep when they were younger.

“Take your plate,” Law reminded him automatically.

“Why does everybody always tell me what do do… I hate it.” He started to go upstairs.

“Dellinger, take your fucking plate.”

“You take it.”

“You wanna get in trouble with Dad?” Law warned him, “You're not a baby anymore, just clean up your shit.”

“You're supposed to do all that.” Dellinger shot back, hanging off the bannister and pouting.

“I'm supposed to fucking what now?”

“Well, I'm not the one who gets in trouble when stuff's not clean. You're here to take care of us, or you have to go back to the reservation, right?”

Law's eyebrows flew up in disbelief, and then creased in anger. “I'm not fucking ‘on loan’ from wherever; I'm your fucking brother!”

Bellamy shouted from behind his closed door, “Dellinger! Take your plate upstairs or I swear to god your psycho ass is getting shipped to foster care!!”

Dellinger stomped his way upstairs instead, leaving his dinner behind.

Law snorted and sat back with arms crossed. He was going to storm off to his own room too, but he kept looking back at the leftover tentacles sticking up obscenely from the styrofoam container. He made a noise of muffled rage and threw the entire thing in the trash. There. Jesus... Now at least he wouldn't get any bruises that he hadn't fucking earned himself.

His phone buzzed.

Kidd: Where the fuk r the bandaids, u let nami use em all?

Law stared at the screen for a moment, head starting to pound, then fired back:

You: I don't fyckig know where the band-aids are im not your fucking housekeeper and I don't got any control over your shitass kid for CHRIDT SAKE

The phone buzzed again but Law flicked the notification away.

He brought up Baby's number instead and escaped outside into the darkness and silence. She didn't pick up at first and he had to call back a few times, as usual. By the time she picked up, he'd gotten himself hidden away in the passenger side of the Volvo with the seat leaned all the way back.

Baby sounded cogent but irritable. “Geez, you got Buff thinking I got another man,” she complained.

“‘Buff’ is a stupid name.” Law massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Not as stupid as ‘Buffalo,’” she sighed.

“Jesus, his parents actually named him that?”

“Yeah, they hippies.”

Law snorted. “Native hippies?”

“It's a thing.”

Law licked his lips and tried to think of what to say next, but his throat felt tight.

Baby prompted him, “Well, what up, big brother. You want a ride somewhere?”

“That's not the only reason I ever call you.”

“Haha… little bit.”

Law swallowed a surge of guilt. “Sorry. I’ve been kinda stretched thin these days—”

“Yeah I know. Big man, you. Important stuff to do.”

“I wanna see you more, though. You ever think about that thing we were talking about before? Getting mom and dad's old place back? Where we all lived before they got sick…”

Baby took a moment to answer. “Heh… I see it sometimes, when I'm driving around here.”

Law smiled. “Yeah? So how's rez life treating ya.”

“It's chill. I dunno, small. It's weird sometimes, even jus trying to like, hang with people. You know? They think I'm after something, I guess…”

“Probably just takes time.” Law reassured her. “Probably once we're both living there again and people get used to us—”

She interrupted, “Law, you don't actually think you'll end up here, right?”

“Why not?”

Baby always did that little huff thing when she had something to say. She did it twice and then put on her stern voice. “Like, what would you even do on the rez. There's no sushi, no fancy little coffee shops, and the first time you get too smart you'll get your perfect teeth all knocked down.”

“‘Knocked out,’” he corrected under his breath. “And what, you think I can't handle myself?”

“You don't wanna be here, is what I'm saying. You're too used to that whole life.”

“What whole life.”

“You know what I mean,” Baby sniffed. “Suburbia. Sunday brunch. Sunscreen…”

“That stuff’s not…! I’m not… You think I wanted to get adopted white??” Law challenged.

“Least you got adopted.”

Law had had enough. “Well, it's been a super load off my chest talking to ya, baby sister.”

“Don't get sarcastic with me,” she snapped.

“Give Buffy my bestest,” he continued.

“It’s ‘Buffalo.’”

He scoffed. “Sure. Also, he's our first cousin on mom's side.”

“He's wh—?!!”

Law hung up with a petty little burst of triumph. The feeling didn't last long, though.

“Shit…”

He sat there kicking at the glove box and letting his anger ebb away into shame. There was a black marker in the center console, and he took up his little dot-decorations again, this time on the sleeve of his hoodie. He circled and filled in wandering patches until his foggy head had cleared and he could look at his phone again.

I do wanna see you more, he texted to Baby, who didn't reply.

Law sighed and moved on to the results of the outburst just before that one. He clicked back into the convo with Kidd, expecting harsh words.

That bad eh, Kidd had replied simply to Law's rant.

Law snorted. He tapped the phone icon and waited.

“G’day,” came the wry answer.

“The fuck you need band-aids for now?” Law questioned him.

Kidd put on a tragic tone. “I got a boo-boo, man. I need that animal sticker magic.”

“Oh? What'd you do.”

“Punched a goose.”

Law laughed out loud, unexpectedly. “You fucking did not,” he put his feet up on the dash and tried not to sound like he was smiling.

“Yeah… well, it was beating up on this one poor dog chained up in a yard. Only dog on a leash in the whole place, seriously.”

“Your yard has a dog post in it too, right? Where'd that one go?” Law remembered the lonely post with the deep path tread around it.

“Oh… yeah, dad took her with him when he left last year—this German shepherd he got us as a present because he was always gone. She was supposed to keep us out of trouble, I guess, but she kept taking off and like, trying to herd coyotes or whatever, haha… He eventually chained her up in the yard and she just wore that circle into the ground every day.”

“That's so shitty,” Law shook his head.

“Yeah. I hope he took her somewhere she can run… anyway, whatever.” Kidd coughed, seeming to not wanna talk about it further.

“Yeah. Uh… So you defeated the goose, eh.”

“Hah! Not even—I had to get back on the bike and run for it! At least I drew it away from the dog.”

Law let himself laugh. “Yeah, aw, you saved it!”

Kidd laughed too. “I should've just let it off the leash. It probably would've fucked that goose up itself.”

“Well, I'll bring you animal band-aids next time I come.”

“Thanks. Uh.” Kidd paused. “So you're gonna come back?”

Law's lightened mood abruptly darkened again. He examined the purple patterns trailing from sleeve to skin—vivid and unbearably obvious. “Yeah, uh. Maybe not tomorrow, though...”

“No?”

“I got school stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. Day after?”

“Maybe the day after that…” Law evaded. He tried coloring in the dark blotches with marker, casting around for a topic to get away from this one. But Kidd seemed to read his silence anyway.

“Hey uh. You know you can just stay here? Whenever? However long,” Kidd offered.

“Uh.”

“And I don't mean as like, a live-in nanny thing either. You don't have to do anything. I don't think of you as a housekeeper.”

Law wanted to cringe away under the seat. “Nono, I don't actually think you think that! I was just lashing out about other stuff.”

“All the cleaning is kinda weird, tee-bee-aych.”

“I know. It's compulsive.”

“But you could just… stay,” Kidd emphasized again, like all this was simple.

Law stared off into the darkness beyond the windshield. He could imagine what it'd be like, sleeping with his head on a strong shoulder, breathing warmth, in a tiny house like a shoebox-nest full of other scuffed-up odds and ends. It sounded worlds better than fucking sunday brunch and sportscars…

“I don't think I can right now.”

“No, eh.”

“Anyway, I gotta get to sleep,” Law mumbled apologetically. “School tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Kidd switched back to whatever-mode.

“I'll text you, eh? When I'm thinking of coming over.”

“Yeah, sounds good, you got my number.”

“Yeah.”

Law hung up and sat there, chewing his lip and breathing the stuffy air of the Volvo. He could just drive to Kidd's right now. Just go. But then what, wear gloves? Invent some goose story of his own? No… he couldn't leave like this, at least not yet.

But he couldn't make himself go out of the car and back to the house either.

He let his mind wander through its worries and his hands perform their restless tasks, until his phone died and the marker ran out. Then he curled up in the passenger seat to sleep.

#KidLaw #kidlaw fic #one piece modern au #trafalgar law #eustass kid #pit-town strays #okay thats it for now im gonna go write a real actual thing

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zephyrbcll · 5 years

Text

Zephyr/Remus DM thread 3

Date: April 5th, 1980 Word count: 18,073 Notes: Otherwise known as ‘the adulting dm’

Remus:

There was nothing that unsatisfied Remus like waiting irritably and dwindling his thumbs. Remus has read the same line from his book five times as his mind drifted to the Order meeting he was missing. He knew the empty chair would be loud enough and wondered if Fabian or Moody had clued in the reason of Remus’ lack of appearance. It still made his blood boil from the last week of being unable to do anything except read the articles. His fury led him to charge candidly into the Auror Department as well as the Regulation Department. Both had bit his temperament to bed and Remus was trying to gather his wits. Already the news of Remus Lupin basically admitting himself for being a werewolf at the Ministry had reached the ears of his job and Remus barely contained himself there when his boss gently waved him off. There was nothing left for him and Remus felt like bargaining with himself. If he couldn’t be employed or do Order missions then what was left. Remus only raised his chin slightly when the door creaked open. He was practically immobile on the couch, setting his book down in his lap and gave Zephyr a raised brow. There was a hint of a welcoming smile but the recent events had stolen any sense of him. “Anything interesting tonight?”

Zephyr:

"You weren't there, so of course not." Dear god, did he want to yell at some of those idiots. Zephyr knew that he probably didn't have as much right to be angry as some, he hadn't been in the country for a full year and he didn't know everyone as well as others did, but he'd still liked Reg and now he was dead. He liked Peter, he was Zephyr's favorite of Remus' friends, and just because there were people that could boast closer connections didn't negate the anger that swirled through him or the uselessness. Shit like this was what he'd come to Great Britain to stop and yet each issue of the Prophet only drove home how ineffective the Order seemed to be lately. "Well, I might have yelled at a few people, but it wasn't actually productive yelling. More just emotional venting," Zephyr admitted with a sigh as he crossed the floor to the couch and reached out to place his fingers lightly beneath Remus' chin before bending over quickly and kissing him hello. "There aren't any leads on... fucking anything. No sign of Dorcas or the others, no clue who jumped Reg or why he was a thief, it's like we're all blind for all the good we're doing." Dropping down into the space next to Remus, Zephyr turned his head to look at him curiously, pretty sure he hadn't told him anything new or anything that he actually wanted to hear. "How about you, baby? Anything interesting with you tonight? You can tell me about your day while I make tea, if you want, I think it would be a nice change of pace."

Remus:

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Remus answered hastily, his brows frowning at Zephyr. They had both met at the Order meetings and Remus had been to enough to know each one carried unfortunate wright. It was not enough that his friends were dying and missing but his own life was at stake and he was raising it every day. Every single day Remus had felt his friends pitying him over and over again and the tainted realization of him being at the Ministry had affected him. “Might have? Emotional venting? I would be careful with that. I hear Moody isn’t prospective to that any longer.” The book closed in his lap and his finger trailed lines over the cover distractedly as he felt Zephyr’s movement change in front of him. He greets the kiss and wants to chase it more but feels his blood chill at his words. Lately, no updates had been just as worse as updates themselves. Remus didn’t know if they were still missing or just waiting to be found. “I don’t know how we started losing so intensely...they-I think at least we owe a debt to those families that have been crossed...” Remus feels Zephyr move and barely registers the question. “...I got-I got fired today-I-I guess my boss was smarter-...I don’t know what...I don’t know what I am-sorry, I know that’s probably not what you meant-I’m tired of sitting...”

Zephyr:

"Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't throw something at me. He might have if it wasn't obvious that I'm not the only one that feels fucking frustrated with how things are going lately. Ever since that awards ceremony, it's like we can't catch our breathe." He sounded old, like he wasn't some sort of radical, but a professional that has been at their job long enough to sound jaded. Dear god, he sounded like some of the people his mother worked with. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but it did feel like they were losing and he didn't like that, especially not since defeat had never really occurred to him as a possibility before. How odd to realize that now. "As much as part of me wants to keep barreling in to fights, the truth is that if we don't watch out, we'd going to end up running into a trap and besides, you and I both know how hard it is to lose someone. Something needs to be done about that somehow." It seemed like no matter what they did, they were screwed. "You were fired? Shit." Zephyr had heard about the registration, of course, it seemed like that article headline was blaring at him no matter where he went and he'd very nearly gotten into a fight when he heard someone say something about monsters being locked up. Werewolf rights was not a cause Zephyr had ever pictured himself championing, but damn it, if people were going to use the bill as an excuse to start trashtalking them, then he just might start throwing punches. But in that moment, his hands were unclenched and his touch was light as he reached over to grab Remus' hand, not actually sure how to comfort him or what to suggest considering how idiotic the world had become overnight. "Don't apologize to me for that, baby. I'm sorry about your job, okay? Look, you're tired of sitting? You want to go somewhere with me? We can get you moving while you tell me what you want to do now. Do you want to find another job somewhere?"

Remus:

It was hard for Remus to listen to Zephyr talk knowing why he wasn’t at the Order meeting and was not surprised when there were no updates. Everyone was sharing the same frustrations and patience was running thin. “You mean Moody? I don’t think he’s the type...No-you’re right you aren’t the only one...Look-um...,” Remus began, sighing as he tried to get his words together. He had not gone into detail yet of why he was sitting on the couch and not being at the Order meeting, simply shrugging it of as being something Moody wanted for temporary reasons. “I...I might have been too frustrated with-with everything and I went to the Auror Department...yelled at Prewett-Fabian. I don’t know....” Remus pauses and rubbed his hand over his face exhausted. “I yelled at my dad too...Kingsley had to-I just thought you should know why...I wasn’t there tonight-Moody said my emotions are guiding me right now.” When he was done talking, his eyes found the floor and didn’t dare to look up. Saying it all aloud only made him tense and more frustrated with himself. He was a loose canon and couldn’t be trusted. Remus knew some might be a short minute away from putting a muzzle on him. Remus only nodded along to Zephyr’s words, already feeling like the fighting at the Ministry had caused him to sit down for a moment and think. This wouldn’t be what his mother would want or even Marlene. He needed to be patient for Peter and Dorcas’ return but he was boiling now. Remus stood up as gracefully as he could, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck and faced away. He was letting his emotions control his actions and now he was out of work. The man was kind and honest and Remus only did so in return, not wanting to rip his head off with his words like he did Fabian and his father. Remus knew sitting out of a meeting or two would be good for him but now time seemed to slow when he wasn’t behind his counter doing something for himself.

“Yes and I-I’m fine, alright? I just...It’s for the best.” He squeezed Zephyr’s hand in return and swallowed hard, his eyes gazing down. Remus finally looked up and laughed at his own expense, letting the hand he was holding with fall to his side. “I don’t know what I want to do now. I don’t know what I need to do now. No job will want me-no Wizarding job at least. I read the article same as everyone else-I haven’t even bloody signed the damn thing but I might as well be signing it with my blood. I can’t go to Azkaban-,” Remus was talking and out of breath, beginning to pace lightly. “No one will want me. Not when they know what I am. My father is not the only who thinks I deserve the Dementor’s kiss. I should have said yes to Dumbledore about the professor job instead of yelling at him-“ Remus stalled, his next words stopping in his throat and blinked at Zephyr. It had been months since Dumbledore came to him and Remus agreed. It felt like so long ago that Remus felt like he was only being led on a leash if he were to accept the job. He partly wish he had now given the circumstances and all things considered. Remus bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and turned hesitantly to walk to the kitchen.

Zephyr:

Considering the terrible news that filled the Prophet day after day, the deaths and disappearances all stacking up, Zephyr couldn't blame Remus in the least for being rustrated and wouldn't question anyone that said they weren't. He would also be a hypocrite if he judged anyone for being frustrated, his temper pushing him into a gym and in the direction of a punching bag until his arms wanted to give out. The first night he talked to Remus, really talked, they'd discussed anger and how to deal with it and Zephyr's tactics hadn't really changed that much, except he went to a gym instead of picking fights and throwing himself headfirst into trouble without regard for his own safety, mostly because he was pretty sure if he walked away with his head still attacked to his shoulders, Remus just might bite it off because he was stupid. So yelling at someone seemed understandable and Zephyr didn't immediately respond as he tried to picture Remus walking into the auror's offense and yelling. "Can I point something out?" He asked, although it was a good bet that they both knew he was going to keep going regardless. "One of your best friends is missing, along with other people, another of your best friend's just lost his brother, to name just one dead, and your dad just pulled a dick move that requires you to get registered like some kind of show poodle, which is really dehumanizing and the rest is just depressing. So I think you have three pretty damn good reasons to be emotional. I'd be more worried if you weren't emotional," Zephyr admitted, rubbing at Remus' knuckles. "But I do appreciate you telling me because no one told me a damn thing, just that we were going without you. So what, they've fucking benched you and put you in timeout until you cool off, is that what I'm supposed to be getting from this?"

That was insulting if he was reading the situation right and Zephyr was doing his best to keep his mouth shut and actually let Remus vent before going back over the entire thing with his own commentary. Was it too soon to get out the whiskey? Because it already seemed like it would be one of those conversations and Zephyr didn't bother to hide his frown at the idea that Remus being fired was 'for the best', especially not having hearing Remus talk about how good his job was. "You're not fucking going to Azkaban." Zephyr said, serious and uncompromising, the very idea of losing Remus to that place dragging out and instant denial. "Your father might be a bigoted asshole, but not everyone thinks like that. Dumbledore doesn't. The people I sat with tonight don't. Not everyone in the world is a clueless dick that's going to judge you without thought." And he still couldn't believe that Remus' boss had fired him after all this time, when he knew the kind of word Remus did and that he was a good person. Irritated at Remus' situation (he wasn't irritated at Remus, he understood the difference and hoped Remus realized it as well), Zephyr stood up to follow Remus into the kitchen and grabbed for two mugs, although he wasn't sure yet if they were for tea or whiskey. "Look, I'm not saying it will be an easy time for you to get a job or that you won't have to get a muggle job for a while, but don't go assuming the worst of everyone just yet, okay? Now, do we want tea or whiskey and what's this about Dumbledore and a professor job?"

Remus:

The recent articles and news that arrived unwelcome had shifted almost everything in Remus’ life and everything had only shifted this week. It was like he was being suffocated, his chest tightening every time he heard more bad news. There didn’t seem like there was even a glimmer of hope as he felt more buried by the deaths. His friends were dying and missing around him and Remus felt useless and helpless, frantically wanting to pull a solution out of a hat and get rid of the war entirely. He had nursed a glass of whiskey when Erika came home and tried to comfort Sirius the best he could but every act felt useless. He knew there wouldn’t be an end to this damned war anytime soon and expected the worse had yet to knock on his door. Remus felt disappointed in himself and after confessing him being rogue with his feelings he would understand if Zephyr was as well. “Yes, I know-I know. But I-I can’t just be emotional and I shouldn’t have. I...if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be sitting here being useless.” His hand tightened and Remus couldn’t even put into words how his father’s face stilled when Remus came in and argued his point. “So what? Zephyr I’m one argument away from being detained-I’m sure if it had been anyone else who did that in the Auror Department they wouldn’t be so lucky.”

Remus was twisting his fingers in his hair after spilling out his words. He would have thought he was under the Veritaserum again but he was shaking with frustration. There was not a day he had thought about signing his name down before the registration and he especially didn’t want to now considering the laws and implication not to mention the discriminatory that would only escalate when he signed his name on a public record. Remus didn’t even meet Zephyr’s gaze, just feeling himself tense. It didn’t seem as if he had a choice with the alternative. “Everyone will now, though. Don’t you see? Werewolves are clearly not on the right side of the war right now and everyone will just assume we are one in the same. I might as well have been there that night.” It was the truth and Remus had felt more like a victim of war than before. He was not there when Marlene and her family suffered but he felt a twinge of guilt knowing that monster was him as well. Remus worries his lip and turned his back, his hands resting on the counter and tried to regain his steady breath. “The bookstore wasn’t a very high profile job and they don’t even want me. I’m forbidden to work at the Ministry...not that I would-“ Remus stopped and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. It had been months ago and Remus had only told Marlene and now that secret had died with her. Remus’ lips twitched into a frown at holding onto the secret for so long and not being honest with Zephyr. “I-um...Dumbledore...he invited me to teach at Hogwarts. Be the new Dark Arts professor...He started asking about...the Order and Fenrir. I knew he just wanted me close to him for his own reasons...not for any other reason surely.” Remus fell into silence and closed his eyes and reminded himself to breath. “Whiskey is fine.”

Zephyr:

The use of his name prompted an odd reaction out of him, it made him sit up just a little straight, jaw go a little tighter as if he was paying more attention to the situation even though he'd been paying attention before. The use of his name instead of something else wasn't something he'd call a rare occurrence, but in that moment, it made things feel even more dire and made him view Remus more as someone panicking than anything else. And what was even worse was Remus had legitimate concerns and there wasn't any easy answer, he couldn't make it all better, and he hated that. He wanted to protect Remus, but dear god, it was like the world didn't want to let him. "You know me, I think it's healthy to let things out. I think sometimes you just need to punch something or break something to blow off steam, but yeah, fine, I admit that maybe you didn't have the best timing for it, that it wasn't the appropriate place. But give Moody time and you'll be back in the meetings. Focus on that, okay? Focus on proving Moody wrong instead of what you did wrong. And yeah, maybe they'd keep you overnight or something for losing your cool, but do you think you're the only person to get upset over a loss and storm the aurors office? Or the only one to get upset over a bill and protest? You didn't throw any punches and that's not enough to throw away the key for, not when it seems like some people are on the verge of fucking riots."

Of all the ways for Marlene to die, by a fucking werewolf attack had to be the worst and Zephyr had known that would tear Remus up. It sometimes seemed like he wanted to carry the weight of every terrible decision made by a werewolf on his shoulders and that wasn't fair at all, but Zephyr didn't know how to change his mind. "You're right. People are scared and if they know, they're going to take it out on you. But that's because they're scared people that are taking the easy target and they're not holding the right people responsible. It's not your fault and if anyone bothers you about it, you know you have a team of people that will punch them in the face because you deserve better even if you think you don't. That attack was not your fault and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself, so don't." He insisted, convinced he was right that Marlene wouldn't want Remus to feel guilty about it. Moving to the cabinet with the whiskey, Zephyr grabbed the bottle and didn't bother trying to get actual glasses, instead pouring a healthy serving directly into a mug and pushing it in Remus' direction before pouring some in his own mug. "I don't know, you seem like you could be a good teacher to me. It's not like he asked you to teach potions, so it's not like you'd be incompetent. But why is he asking about the order? Isn't he supposed to be top guy in charge?"

Remus:

Nothing was optimistic right now for Remus and everything was stained with blood. Everywhere seemed like it was crowded with bodies showing up, some familiar faces and some not. Everyone was innocent and being targeted for what they were. Remus was afraid for them and himself. This was a grim time for him to be experiencing and didn’t know if he can handle another body dropping. He was aware of his friends still missing and were somewhere out there. Already he had assumed they were dead just in case if they did show up mangled Remus would already be mourning. Remus couldn’t make eye contact now with Zephyr, his angered words slipping out of him with a projected tone and bite that sounded not like him. “Marlene thinks-thought that too. Said swinging a bat helped...I don’t think it’s the therapy that works for me.” He gave a tight and reassuring smile that Zephyr was at least trying to diffuse the tension built in his shoulders. “Moody thinks I’m a wild card...if I did even one more thing that jeopardizes my trust with him I won’t just be benched I will he removed. The biggest threat is myself...I dont have any names on my list to go off on but I’m sure I can find a few Death Eaters to match it with. People are rioting and shouting and I can’t even focus on that. Surely they have enough wits to change it but I don’t think they will.”

If Marlene had died another way this possibly could have been avoided but he couldn’t point and choose freely how people would die. Remus knew what people that about werewolves originally but the attacks was only stirring the pot. Remus knew during school and just by eavesdropping that some people thought they should be locked up and not be given rights. It was twelve year olds saying it and now it was grown men in power saying it. His own father had said he deserves death and Remus didn’t favor their dirty laundry being printed for everyone. “Trust me I can handle their comments. Words is not what I am afraid of. It’s what people hide behind when they are cowards. What I’m afraid of is in a month’s time being carted off to Azkaban for not signing their precious fucking paper. Violence isn’t what we’re supposed to be stressing ourselves over. If we punch back we are more in common...and I can’t-I won’t let anyone do that. I can fight my own battles...my father won’t change his mind. I saw it on his face. Doesn’t matter how many people reject it or rally against it. But it could have been! It could have been me that night. Merlin, I don’t know where I was that night. I could have killed someone and not know-if someone comes anywhere near me when I am that thing it might be the last time. The only difference between me and those that did attack her is i haven’t killed anyone. Don’t you see that?” Remus was shaking with anger, his fists curled by his sides before running a hand across his face to help sooth the frustration away. He could hear Marlene’s voice in his mind telling him none of that was true but it was. He was the same as them but the only difference was he did not have the will to kill but he could. His teeth were just as sharp and his claws would be just as lethal.

Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ground. “I don’t know if I want to teach anymore...have nothing to teach second years except defense spells that seem redundant to what I’m facing...Dumbledore...he asked about my missions. I think he wanted me closer to him to whisper in his ears.” Remus took the offered mug full of whiskey and braced himself against the bitter taste that filled his mouth. “I...I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him. Haven’t heard anything since.”

Zephyr:

"I don't..." God, he hated admitting this, hated feeling useless when Remus needed him, or at least needed something, but Zephyr was always going to give Remus honesty to matter how unpleasant it tasted on his tongue. "I don't know what kind of therapy works for you, but we can figure it out. If you say that's not what it takes, then okay, I'll cancel plans to take you to a gym and introduce you to a punching bag." Zephyr didn't think it was always enough to train with magic, he'd gotten into enough fist fights that he believed in physical training as well and Zephyr's mom had always told him not to trust his opponent and had likely taught him spells he wasn't supposed to know. It was unlikely she knew that her protectiveness and her rulebreaking would come in handy during a war, but teaching him to be good in a fight wasn't helping Zephyr in that moment. "Can he actually do that to you? That doesn't seem fair, how can he just stop someone that wants to fight?" He knew Moody was important, head auror with a good reputation and age seniority, but still. Sighing, Zephyr dragged a hand through his hair and couldn't help the thought that there was unlikely to be anyone in the order that didn't have an issue with a death eater.

"You're not going to have a choice but to sign it, are you?" He didn't want to see Remus forced to do that, but considering Lyall Lupin's place in the department, Remus was a known factor and couldn't pretend that he wasn't a werewolf. "Are you going to start blaming yourself for things you could do? Dear god, I could go out and murder someone, you don't need to be a werewolf for that. You have flashes, right? You remembered enough about that night with Fenrir to tell me about it, you really think you wouldn't remember something about that night with Marlene? Besides, I doubt the McKinnon home is anywhere near where you changed or where you woke up and there probably would have been blood on you. You're careful, you're not like the ones that got Marlene, so don't go around charging yourself for crimes you haven't committed. Being able to kill doesn't make you a killer, baby." Zephyr didn't know if Remus was in a state to hear that or if he was too torn up by Marlene's death to do anything but let his guilt eat himself up as he mourned. Regardless, Zephyr was going to be there to held ground Remus in reality even if he didn't like it.

"If you were a teacher, you'd be facing second years. You'd be trying to help them understand things like disarming spells so maybe they'd have a chance to run if someone comes after them at home, I think that's something to teach. But that's not the point. You think that Dumbledore... what, wanted you to inform on the Order for you?" That didn't sound good and Zephyr frowned as he sipped at his own whiskey, fingers tapping against the ceramic. Zephyr didn't have the strong feelings it seemed like everyone shared for Dumbledore and didn't have any trouble questioning his motives, wondering just why the hell he wanted Remus to be his fly on the wall. He knew Dumbledore had given Remus a mission, so asking about that wouldn't have been odd, but clearly something needed to be off for Remus to notice it. Maybe Dumbledore didn't trust Moody? "From what I've heard, Dumbledore is supposed to be a pretty important person, so is it actually unusual not to hear from him? Or is he out of contact with everyone?" Zephyr asked, trying to make sure he had the full picture. "I'm trying not to jump to conclusions, but you're making it sound like something is off."

Remus:

Remus hung his head and was fuming with the irritation built up over the past week. He hadn’t meant to expand upon it when Zephyr came home and should have put a foot in his mouth. This is why he didn’t humor people with his bitter thoughts as he saw Zephyr fumble over what to say. “A punching bag-I will day that’s probably better but not in the best interest...I don’t know what to do but anything is better than this.” He didn’t know what this was but vaguely put it as torturing himself with selfish thoughts during the war and worrying over the edge about his friends and funeral arrangements. That first night he chose drinking over punching something and he was sure to do it again but there was only so many times he could do that. “I don’t know what the problem is-I’m fighting aren’t I? Thought I was doing a better job than some but...’suppose I shouldn’t be fighting those in the Order...Moody is the one more in touch with Dumbledore and if he thinks I’m a risk then perhaps I am.” Remus had felt like his advantages were being stolen from him and he didn’t know what to do next. He should be out there fighting, at the meetings where he could be beneficial. He didn’t even know when he was meant to return and it was drastically making his importance not levied.(edited)

Remus beat the silence with a few answers but sighed as if defeated. Already he had laid out each consequence to his action if he did or didn’t sign it and had concluded there was only so little to be done. They had managed to weasel in this registration which plagued him. It was the worst case scenario. If he did sign it he would be agreeing to audacious ridiculing terms for the ministry of which he couldn’t get behind. If he didn’t sign it they would lock him in Azkaban where the dementors would await his fate. There was nothing he could do and even in the bleak cress of the moment he didn’t know any other alternative. He could go to Dumbledore but he couldn’t run from the Ministry forever. “I...I don’t know,” Remus said weakly, his tone trying to come up with something on the whim. “I can’t...I can’t run. They know who I am and where I live-but I can’t sign it. The Ministry...has had a file on me since I was bit. My father is in the department and a public figure. The Ministry knows who I am and what I am but I have to be the one that signs the document...I don’t know what to do.” Remus only wish everything that happened to him would have some sway with his father but that didn’t turn out well. It turned out just as he thought it would and cursed under his breath, dragging his hands to his eyed and sighing heavily. The anger felt pent up in him and he turned suddenly with hurt mixed in his eyes.

“Gods, fuck I know that. But humans are not the same as werewolves-yes, you can go out and kill someone but if I so much as say I’m a werewolf I don’t have to kill anyone. They would gladly put a stake through my heart if they could. Yes, I have blurred memories and I wasn’t there-I know that...but they’re going to group me in anyway. It’s what they do-it’s, Fuck, it’s what they’ve already done. I was placed on a life sentence when I was bit when I was five and ever since then I’ve just been in purgatory....in school they said werewolves were primitive and monsters-it’s in the monsters chapter to be fair. I don’t have to kill anyone for people to blame me the second they know what I am.”

“I don’t think I would last in that school teaching...I know I would be alright. I don’t have any experience and unprepared for that...I’m sure Dumbledore found someone better without any risks invited to it.” That day seemed out of focus now and Remus stayed silent, weighing his words carefully. “I think he just wanted me close. To make sure I was okay...Took it the wrong way suppose...I look like a right idiot now don’t I? Could have a job-a real job and now...well what’s the point anyway?” Remus sipped timidly at his drink and let it steal his thoughts. Everything seemed like a game of chance now and every missed step would bring him two steps back. Since he was a child he looked up to Dumbledore like any child would do a great and powerful wizard. He recalled believing he wouldn’t be able to go to Hogwarts and then was invited by the Headmaster himself. It dented the picture of himself he had made in his room when he was alone about himself. Now, Remus had been searching for ways since to say thank you or feel like he owed Dumbledore something. He knew he should have accepted the professor role and took it in stride, not looking back. “He tries to keep in touch with the Order. Not so much now. I’m not...I’m not trying to. I trust Moody even if I’m constantly pissed at him. If anyone’s talking to Dumbledore it’s him.”

Zephyr:

"You know my methods. Fighting, drinking, sex, that's usually what I do when keeping my hands busy doesn't calm me down. I don't know what to suggest for you yet, but I'll learn and the drinking is probably a good start. I seem to remember smoking with you, too. I guess it depends on what calms you down. Do you need something to keep your brain busy or something that occupies your mouth or your entire body. Maybe jogging is your thing, maybe just soaking in a bubble bath or doing math, I have no fucking idea, but we'll work on it." He probably should have made more effort to figure it out after that first night, but the times he shared with Remus were good and his mood was better and somehow he didn't think of it again, which was stupid considering it wasn't like the source of their troubles had magically disappeared. "You know I'll tell you what's going on, right? You're not going to be in the dark and it's unrealistic to think that some of us won't get upset sometimes. If you just want me to sit here and listen, I can, but if you want me to talk to Moody and find out if there's something he wants to see from you or if he just wants you to sit out for a few days, I can do that, too." He wasn't going to talk to Moody or Fabian or anyone like that without Remus knowing about it, pretty sure that in the mood Remus was in, that would just earn yelling for interfering with his life. Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't ever do it, but not in this case.

Listening to Remus, he just sounded so defeated and Zephyr couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch him, fingers curling around his arm and squeezing before slipping to Remus' back while Zephyr tipped his head, pressing a brief kiss to Remus' shoulder. "There's no group or magical lawyer working on fighting this? It was narrowly passed, right? Can't something be done to overturn it? You could move somewhere, but they'd find you again. I'm trying to think of a third option, but short of moving out of the country, I'm blanking. If they have a file on you, it sounds like you should already be tracked and they wouldn't need you to sign up, but who do I know, maybe they need your signature for some tracking spell of something. But I'm with you. Look, I know I'm shit at being useful right now, but I'm here and I'm listening." Zephyr reminded him, although he was soon enough left with the impression that he hadn't been listening hard enough. The moment Remus looked at him with hurt in his eyes, Zephyr felt terrible, beyond putting his foot in his mouth because he hadn't meant to say anything to put that look on Remus' face, not when he was in enough pain as it was. "Shit, baby, don't look at me like that. I'm sorry. You know I'd jump in front of that stake for you, right? it may not do much damn good, but I'm not going to let someone slander you just for being a werewolf, not even you. It's not right and you don't deserve it and maybe you're used to that, but you're not a monster. I swear, Remus, you're not. Now come here, okay?" Reaching out once more, this time Zephyr wrapped his arm around Remus' waist, stepping into his space and pressing a kiss to Remus' hair. He didn't know what to say or what to do to make it better and he hated it, he hated feeling like he was useless and like he was failing Remus, but he could at least hold him and try to understand.

"I think you'd do just fine teaching. You helped tutor people, didn't you? So that's experience right there and you'd have books to teach out of and if you needed help, I'm sure the others would help you make a lesson plan or whatever." Although Zephyr wasn't actually sure yet if going to work for Dumbledore was the best thing for Remus if he'd gotten a weird feeling from Dumbledore, he did think Remus had the makings of a decent professor. "I guess no matter how much we wish it to be otherwise, there's always gonna be shit going on that we don't know about with all of them. Dumbledore did ask a lot of you, but if you're a professor, would you really have that much freedom for the order? Although maybe he had some other role in mind for you. I don't know, but..." But the way people kept dying, no one could afford to have someone useful and willing sitting on the sidelines, but dear god, things were grim enough without thinking about it like that and Zephyr shook his head before sipping at his whiskey, feeling it burn all the way down. "You know, I bet you're not the only one that this has happened to, but not everywhere is firing people. Camilla still has her job and yeah, I know, she's a veela and not a werewolf, but my point was that I think she fucking owes people that lost their jobs, don't you think? Maybe get a list of places to put out their opinions on hiring werewolves and vampires and veelas, that way people without a job have some clue where to look."

Remus:

It was easy to remember the times that Remus would be excessively frustrated but school grades and dramas were less important than a war. Remus was being actively taken off from Order duties until he settled down and became calm again but there was no sense of knowing when that would be. Remus huffed in frustration, earning a small chuckle at Zephyr’s examples. “I remember. Told me the first day...Yeah, suppose that helps too. I think smoking and jogging are sort of counterproductive but I’m sure I’ll have a list of my own. When I was in school usually just walking around helped...otherwise. It’s not the first time I’ve…” A breath released from him and he gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wish that there were more possibilities that could sooth him like Zephyr had. There were times he felt like a waste of space or standing for someone else to come in and take his place. Being away from his job and now the Order only made him feel suffocated with want. There were many things he could be doing to help instead of waiting by dwindling his thumbs for news. “Of course...but no one else is-is doing whatever the fuck I’m doing. Moody didn’t even say when I could come back.” Remus glanced away impatiently, thinking of the Order and Moody only reached a frustrating core. It only made him run thinner with the idea he wasn’t ready if he was so quick to anger at the thought of them. “-No. I mean, no. Just...if I want to talk to Moody, I will. His intentions are...usually trusting. If he thinks it’s best then...this is what’s right. I will have to practice being calmer. That’s what he wants.”

The reassuring touch only felt like a mocking burn but Remus didn’t pull away, only dropping his gaze and leaning his forehead on Zephyr’s shoulder in defeat. His heart was hammering in his chest and his pulse was quick in his throat. “I don’t think fighting it will do any good. Things like this...actual government orders. It’s harder. It’s more delicate. There are people protesting it, but I do not think it wise...it’s natural to want to do something. I know my father. He’s always stayed true to his own self. Otherwise he would be working on something this minute which I doubt that above all things. I’ve thought...about everywhere I could go. Scotland, Austria...America. They would find me and it doesn’t matter...a file is different than a signature. I...I don’t have all the information and I wish I had.” There was only a few facts of information he knew and the Prophet articles only aided little. The options were scarce and Remus still didn’t know what he should do. The registration seemed like a faded white noise counting down his seconds while more things took center in his mind. Remus felt his chest rise with every bated breath from his pent up words. He didn’t mean for his words to become aggressive but in the short sentence of silence he raised his hand to cover his eyes tiredly. He remembered telling Zephyr what he was a couple of months ago and now feeling a twitch of guilt in his stomach over telling him. It passed as he looked back at Zephyr and shook his head. “No, if-if that happens you are far more important. Please, don’t. I am not asking for you to be heroic...I’m only being honest. I think monster is just an umbrella term for all werewolves after what happened to Marlene and-” Remus felt his words run dry in his mouth as he was pulled against Zephyr. For a moment he tried to restrain himself but instead his head sunk against his shoulder once more. There were more like him that were dealing with the same problem and it was selfish of him to be ripped apart. It felt like each breath was a sip of air gulping into his lungs and he felt crumbled over Zephyr’s shoulder, his hand gripping at Zephyr’s back.

Remus was aware of what Zephyr was doing and barely smiled in return, only being appreciative of Zephyr’s suggestion. “Yes, you’re right. I did...but it’s different-it’s completely different. I wanted to do it back before I met with Dumbledore and now the want isn’t wanted. I can’t...and especially not. I don’t think any Wizarding school would be more kind to a werewolf professor. I have to abandon that thought…” It was like letting go of a ghost thought that he hadn’t even wanted until he had it. It was slipping from his fingers and now he wish he had taken the position. “I can’t...I can’t be that anymore. It wasn’t meant to be and there’s nothing good coming out of wanting it. So, please. Don’t remind me anymore.” Remus could feel the wheel of hope beginning to dwell and his eyes only landed on the glass in his hands. Maybe things were different if he had accepted it but it wouldn’t do any good. “It was-was humiliating…” He stilled when Zephyr mentioned Camilla and his lips twitched into a mocking smile. Camilla was the one who was wrapped around his father’s finger and the one who was pretending to know his family. She seemed to pretend to know what he was going through when she barely even scratched the surface.

“Don’t,” Remus warned, glancing back at Zephyr with some heat in his eyes. “She’s different and she knows that. Why else do you think she was campaigning for the registration to be done? She knew what she was doing so I don’t think it’s fair to sympathize with her.” Remus knew there would be times that he would get impatient with Zephyr or frustrated but didn’t think he would treat him the same as Fabian or Moody. The same irritation stirred but he controlled him simply by raising his drink to cover his lips. “If a bookstore or the Ministry doesn't want me I think everyone else will follow the same standard. It’s pointless.”

Zephyr:

Against his willing, Zephyr ended up snorting in amusement at the mental image of Remus trying to smoke and jog at the same time and had to grin at it briefly before returning to the seriousness of the conversation. Walking didn't seem like anything special or unique, but then again, who would have guessed folding paper was something that would help with Zephyr's temper? He wasn't going to judge and instead he nodded along, thinking about the garden trails that he'd seen advertised because they were opening for spring and sure there had to be a forest or something around that Remus could show him and they'd go hiking or something, maybe he could see where Remus spent the full moons if he didn't manage to completely piss Remus off. Holding up his hands as if in surrender, Zephyr wasn't about to try arguing for the right to talk to Moody because he'd already known that Remus wouldn't like the idea and while there may have been some subjects he'd push, that wasn't one of them. "Okay, fine, I wouldn't say anything to him. He probably didn't tell you when because he wasn't sure how long it would take you to calm down and control your temper. If you want to take up hiking, we can do that, if you want to practice meditating, we can do that. I hate admitting I have no clue what to do, but I'm going to support you, I hope you know that." Considering everything out of his mouth seemed to be making matters worse, Zephyr wasn't sure what to say beyond reminding Remus that he wasn't alone.

Taking advantage of the way Remus bowed his head, Zephyr ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Remus' neck and squeezed reassuringly for a few seconds before letting go. "I hate them for doing this to you. I've questioned their decisions before, but this... christ, I don't need to tell you it's unfair. For what it's worth, MACUSA doesn't have a registry like this, but I'm not going to pretend for a single minute that I think you'd run." There were bound to be other people in the order that worked in the same department as Remus' dad that could get the information Remus wanted, but Zephyr didn't now if that would look strange or not. "Think there are people in your dad's department that fought back against it? If thee are, they could be a good start." He suggested and immediately biting down on his tongue because he'd meant to stop offering suggestions and solutions and instead just listen to Remus since he seemed to keep saying the wrong thing. It felt like there wasn't any solution to be found, but no matter how frustrating it was not to be able to fix the problem, it wasn't about him and what he wanted, it was about Remus and if all Zephyr could do was hold him and give him whiskey, that's what he'd do. "I'm not trying to be heroic, I'm trying to take care of the guy I'm in love with because you are what's important to me, okay? I don't know the right thing to say in situations like that and I'm going to fuck it up, but remember that much for me, okay?" It wasn't an excuse, he'd admit it if things came out wrong because he was learning about Remus' struggles as he went, but his end goal was the same. He loved Remus and he wanted Remus to be okay. He wondered if maybe Remus would feel better if he got drunk and cried and let himself mourn Marlene, but he didn't say that as Remus buried himself in his arms. Squeezing Remus tightly, Zephyr hand his hands fisted in the back of Remus' shirt as he turned his head to press his face against Remus' hair.

He wanted to fight back against the idea of Remus having to let go of what sounded like a dream of his, argue about the idea that Remus wouldn't be able to do something just because he was a werewolf. There was no goddamned reason why a Wizarding school shouldn't be kind to a werewolf professor unless it was staffed by idiots and racists and while Zephyr had always known the world and the people who governed the countries in it were flawed, never had he been so angry at the injustice as he was then. He wanted to argue about it, but Remus sounded so sad that he couldn't and Zephyr had to keep reminding himself that no matter how enraging he found things, no matter how upset and heartbroken he felt over Remus' stories, Remus was still the one feeling it and he was likely to feel so much worse. "I believe in you, but I won't remind you." Zephyr agreed quietly, feeling defeated and sipping quickly at his whiskey in an attempt to numb the hollowed out feeling in his chest and he was surprised when it ran empty. How had he ever finished it so quickly? Sighing, Zephyr reached for the bottle and poured more in his before adding to Remus' mug without even checking what he had left. It was humiliating. No one should get to do that to Remus and he set the bottle down before edging closer, side brushing up against Remus in quiet support. "Want to tell me what happened?" That way he'd know just how badly he wanted to punch Remus' former boss and if he wanted to break his nose if Zephyr ever saw the man again.

Really, he should have known that mentioning Camilla would be a mistake. If he had to name someone for Remus to have as an enemy, chances were that Camilla would be his first guess and normally Remus' distaste of her alone would be enough reason for Zephyr to keep his distance, but considering they worked together, that was a little hard. Besides, Remus had also given an opinion before that implied that Zephyr probably shouldn't start fights with people just because they upset Remus and that he probably shouldn't get himself fired. He really wished Remus would chance that policy, though. "Trust me, I'm not sympathizing with her. I'm saying she needs to take some goddamn responsibility. You really think I'm just going to forgive her for doing something like this to you? Because I'm not. I know this is hurting more than just you, but you're the one I'm concerned with. I hate the idea that it's going to be a trend to hate someone for something like this, but this country already has a problem with hating people for their blood. Maybe you will have to get a job in a muggle shop." The words tasted like ash in his mouth, like defeat, and Zephyr grit his teeth before huffing out a breath. "I wish I could just make them open their ideas and realize they're being idiots, but it's not that simple and I know that, just like I know that no matter how much I hate this, I don't get how hard it is on you. So I guess the real question is what do you want to do now?"

Remus:

Even at school in his adolesence he had managed to ground his temper and be void of it. If that was because he was agile in ignoring it or because it simply did not have the same gravity as it did now. At school he would walk around the castle just as he did now except it was familiar and some unfamiliar streets until his mind was cleared. Remus couldn’t trust himself to handle stressful situations in the moment. Already he had managed to find a way to be excluded from Order meetings and knew it wasn’t just because of his physical fight with Fabian at the Auror offices. It was something Remus did not pride himself on and thought lowly of. It would be hard to hone in on his frustration now. He knew what he had done had left a dent in whatever foundation relationship he had with Fabian and knew word would get around about what happened. Of course Fabian would tell Austen and perhaps Gideon of what happened, something that didn’t sit well in his stomach along with other sharpened feelings. When he saw that Zephyr was not being a threat he simply waved his hand dismissively and sighed. “Moody was vague. I suppose I have jurisdiction over when I can attend meetings again...or at least that was what was implied. I don’t-I don’t know what I want or need. You’re here. You’re helping me. Trust me.” Remus voice was thin as he locked his gaze with Zephyr to emphasize his reassurance. “Without you I would be starting fights with everyone.”

Remus head felt heavy as he leaned against Zephyr, his eyes shutting and trying to shut away other thoughts. There were few times that Remus got into a shrill panic over complicated matters and it was not the best place to see him. He knew it would be easy for Zephyr to push Remus away and tell him to stop behaving so foolishly like a child. It was what Remus was thinking of himself as well as that Zephyr shouldn’t see him like this. He sighed against the touch massaged at his neck and breathed shakily out. It was inevitable that this would happen and the small twinge of hope that Remus had for the Ministry was stolen when the registration came out. “They’ve been talking about doing this for years. Even when the government wasn’t counseling over it I heard about it at school. They think creatures are dangerous and they have proof we are,” Remus said flatly, not amused with how everything was being spun out. Of course Remus had thought about leaving the country several times but every time he did he knew that he would be apprehended eventually. Remus remembered being in his father’s department and how everyone seemed in their own headspace and not minding him at all. They were all focused on the registration and none of them seemed bothered by Remus’ presence or what they had done. Remus shook his head mutely against the suggestion, knowing it would be a waste of time to try and convince the people who did this to undo it. Remus bit his tongue, a frown forming in between his brows as he leaned against Zephyr

“I can’t fix what happened, alright? No one wants it to be fixed-I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want optimistic thoughts...nothing will be changed. At least not now.” His words were bordering harsh and Remus tilted his head back for a moment and just tried to breathe as his lungs felt hard in his chest. He knew that Zephyr was trying and trying to make Remus feel better, something he did see and appreciate. The familiar rise in his chest however was what was infuriating him now and pushing against whatever was being said. His chest would rise and fall in tandem and he just continued clutching at Zephyr in return, feeling like there was nothing else he could do.

Remus was rewarded selfishly when the conversation about him being a professor soon died. It wasn’t something that he ever thought he was capable of doing but the opportunity had been something he mulled over before the interview. It would have at least led him to a job if he could have seen himself falling out of the one at the bookstore. Of course there had been no way to know but out of all the people he had yelled at in the past couple of months he wish he could erase what happened with Dumbledore. He trusted him and he completely butchered whatever trusting friendship they had. Remus sipped at the shallow contents in his mug, feeling his face tingle with the familiar taste of whiskey that was only help numb the other feelings from the past week. It was well needed and Remus didn’t need to say that aloud. He nodded his appreciation quietly as Zephyr filled his mug up once more and at the question went still. For a moment he was quiet, placing his mug on the counter before pressing his palms to his eyes. It was an exhausting day to remember and when he dropped his hands to his sides he exhaled a sharp breath. “I was late. I thought he was firing me because I was late. Apparently Price had a suspicion of what I was and when he read about the registration and the attacks...he said he didn’t think I was fit to work there. Said he had known for a while and couldn’t have a...couldn’t have me working there anymore.”

The mention of Camilla left a sour and bitter taste in his mouth and his stare hardened on Zephyr for mentioning her at the time. His father had become close with her and Camilla apparently had known his mother. The audacity for her to even think she was involved in his family had been cruel and unsatisfying. She had held his mother’s hand when she was sick and walked through the same halls he had at his home in Wales. After the registration, Remus didn’t need to pretend to like her and he moved past Zephyr, brushing his shoulder as he did and faced away. “You don’t have to pretend to be against her for my sake-I know you two are friends. She said she knew my mother-it was completely blindsiding. My father probably thinks her as his daughter-a child that isn’t cursed. I have no reason to like her so I would appreciate if you don’t mention a damn word about her.” Remus was clutching his glass harder than before and his gaze fell to the side. “The Ministry is just a form of government built on what they think is right and ignorant to anyone else. If I’m seen as a danger then I can hardly say I’m not-if I argue I’m not then I am for trying to make a point.” Remus breathed out slowly, his hand reaching to his forehead and closing his eyes. Of course if he needed money he would need to find another job and if a bookstore couldn’t accept him then he didn’t have the trust that any other place would. He wasn’t about to resort to asking people for money but knew a muggle establishment would be his best bet. He didn’t need more people knowing what he was and being exposed for the registration was not aiding him in anyway. In a softer tone, Remus breathed out and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know-just be here. I-I don’t want to be a broken record and complain like this everyday and it’s selfish of me for doing that to you...Just don’t leave, please.”

Zephyr:

He didn't see exactly how he was helping since Remus seemed to be taking insult in almost everything he said, but then again sometimes you just needed an outlet and if Remus lost his cool and yelled at him, so what? That wasn't going to get him banned from the Ministry or kicked out of order meetings, the worst that could happen was that it would end up hurting his feelings, but Zephyr knew Remus wasn't actually trying to do that. Sometimes people got pissed and needed to let off steam and he didn't fully understand the gravity of what was going on, he knew it and he admitted it, he had no idea how badly Remus was suffering and could only compare it to what he'd experienced. How would he have felt if they hadn't caught the one responsible for his mom dying? How would he have felt if he couldn't have joined the order at all to try making things right? Hell, how did he feel just standing there, seeing Remus upset and knowing he couldn't do a damn thing to fix it? Zephyr may not have understood exactly, but he didn't need to understand to actually be there while Remus dealt with things. "Fights with everyone, huh? I didn't realize I had a bad ass for a boyfriend. But if being here and giving you alcohol while you want helps, you got it. And we can start looking into jogging trails or something, we can drink and walk and figure things out." Although at that moment, he wasn't sure if they'd be walking any further than the couch since if he had to guess, it was going to be the kind of night where they killed the entire bottle and Remus woke up miserable. Rubbing at the tendons at the back of Remus' neck, Zephyr knew that being understanding wasn't his strongest trait, but tomorrow would be one of those days where he put his ability to pamper to use if he was right about how bad Remus was going to feel.

"Anyone can be dangerous. They're persecuting you because they want to say they're doing something to keep people safe when the death toll keeps climbing. Werewolf deaths don't even make up ten percent of the deaths and - right, sorry. Not helping. Shutting up now." Although he was right and he knew it, damn it. Arguing about details and how unfair it was to someone that had been suffering because of that same unfairness was perhaps not his most compassionate move and he could at least wait until Remus wasn't so irritated to actually do his own complaining about the measure. He was trying to soothe Remus, not rile him up, although Zephyr knew he was going to have a lot more luck with the later if he couldn't stop himself from running off at the mouth. "I know I have no clue how much shit you've had to put up with in the past and that being offended on your behalf isn't actually doing anything, I'm not actually trying to remind you of how shitty things are. Can't believe I'm being the optimistic here, I just hope that one day all those idiots pull their heads out of their asses and things get better. But until then, I'm in your corner willing to chew people out." There was a difference between being positive and being supportive. You could say that everything would be fine, that there was no reason to be upset, but that didn't actually do anything to make someone feel better, it didn't change that they felt miserable and instead said they didn't have a right to feel bad. You could give them a hug or ice cream and be there, that was more useful, or at least his dad had tried to impress that upon him before, and Zephyr may not have had ice cream, but he did have alcohol and he tightened his grip on Remus, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Anger was still bubbling inside of him, a righteous sort of indignation because Remus should have been free to walk outside the day of the full moon, to be a professor. Maybe one day.

Hold loosening on Remus, Zephyr kept an arm around his waist as they resumed drinking, trying to recall if he had a pack of cigarettes somewhere around. He didn't think so, smoking was something he seemed to only do with company since moving to England, and he denied that their word choice had anything to do with it. He'd shared a smoke with Remus when they first met and so while he was willing to guess that it helped, he didn't have any stored away for unexpected fits of emotion by anyone and wasn't actually sure if he wanted to change that. As he listened to Remus explain what happened, Zephyr exhaled slowly and reconsidered that cigarette as he took another sip of his drink, remembering how amused he'd been once about Remus always sleeping in and being late to work, how they'd talked about Remus shifting his schedule so he didn't have to work mornings and could sleep in. It used to be amusing, but now... now Remus could sleep in all he wanted, but Zephyr couldn't help but feel anger. Later, that was for later because Remus was the one that was dealing with his problems right them. "So it was fine as long as no one else knew, but now it's an image problem. But I guess your monthly pattern became obvious after a while." The bad thing was, the man probably had a case for firing Remus for being late, he could have let Remus go thinking it was that, and Zephyr didn't know if he should hate the man for his honesty in the reason, hate him for his cowardice in refusing to keep Remus employed, or be grateful that at least Remus wasn't going to wonder about the reason. He usually respected honestly, but it seemed he could do that and still be angry about the outcome.

As soon as Remus glared and bumped into him as he brushed past, Zephyr knew that he'd put his foot in his mouth again and somehow managed to piss Remus off somehow, although at least he wasn't left guessing just what the problem was. "You and I have a different definition of friend, I think. You told me once not to go picking fights with my coworkers, remember?" To be precise, Remus had said not to lose his job because of him, because Zephyr had started picking fights with someone just because of Remus. Zephyr didn't hate Camilla, but he did hate how she upset Remus and just because he could spend time around her without throwing a temper tantrum didn't mean he wanted to exchange secrets with her and go for a drink together like he did with Juniper, it didn't mean he was going to stick his nose in Camilla's love life or pester her for baked goods like he did with Daisy. "But I won't mention her." She's not a replacement for you. She could never be as special as you. He thought the words, but he didn't say them because Zephyr knew how sore of a topic Remus' mum was and considering how his dad treated him, having the man take in a girl that was part creature had to be hurtful if not infuriating.

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't, basically, because the people in power are thriving on fear and they'll spin everything to be against you like every other politician." In spite of his mother's profession (most likely because of it, in all honesty), Zephyr didn't have a lot of trust or respect for governments in particular and the Ministry kept going down in his opinion the more he learned about it. "Baby, look at me." He coaxed gently, circling around Remus to be within sight line before reaching out to touch Remus under the chin briefly. "Just look at me, okay? You have every fucking right to complain right now. This isn't something to be quiet about and don't even pretend like you wouldn't be listening to me complain if something upset me, so don't call yourself selfish, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you and you're not losing me. Seems to me that you'd be more likely to kick me out because I keep putting my foot in my mouth. Come on, let's move to the couch, I've got the bottle." Zephyr declared as he lifted the bottle and waved it around to make his point.

Remus:

Remus needed to get out of his head for the more time he spent listening to his thoughts the more paranoid he was becoming. This was the most reckless he had been in a while and he knew choices had consequences but he felt like some universal karma was biting him in the arse for something he did years ago. He didn’t expect to lose almost everything in a single month and yet the fates were mocking him with everything. Remus had lost his friends, his job, his control, and somewhere in all of that himself. There was a balance that was off and Remus was desperate to temper it. Remus knew Zephyr was trying to be teasing but he shook his head dismissively. “I’m not being a good boyfriend-I’m not being a good person. It’s not bad ass to do what I’m doing...nothing good about it. I don’t know what’s happening.” Remus tried to remember all the good moments in the past months and all the times spent with his friends instead of worrying about this, filling his head with negative thoughts. It was barely clear and cohesive thought in his mind but knew being here with Zephyr was helping. It was fueling him to be better and not let his emotions get the better of him. “Drinking, smoking, walking. All are more preferred coping methods than what I’ve done this week...can’t believe I got kicked out of the Ministry twice.” Remus leaned against Zephyr and welcomed the touch with appreciation, smiling despite what he was feeling and saying.

Remus knew what a werewolf-what he was capable of. The sharp teeth and the blood he craved when he was a werewolf. There were blurs he remembered like chasing a rabbit or another animal but animals was the only thing he hunted and knew he could rip a human apart and barely remember it. It wouldn’t be him thinking about the actions but he could remember parts the next morning. Of course none of that had happened but he knew that animal was within him somewhere and he knew what it was capable of. Remus glanced away as Zephyr said how dangerous werewolves were and how dangerous people thought they could be. “Thank you,” Remus said breathlessly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh. He read about what happened to people during werewolf attacks and knew the details without being told them. There are many things I haven’t told you...about my father. About my mother. Maybe I will...but my father-what he said in the papers-he’s said that to me before. I’ve been tied down when I was a child and at school-it was fine but no one liked werewolves once they learned about them. There’s nothing to like about them. They’re ugly and vicious-and hopefully you never see me like that.”

Remus was grateful for Zephyr being there and talking to him through all of these obstacles. It was hard to do alone and he barely did it at all. The company of words that made him feel human and suffering from problems no one could relate to but felt like Zephyr was trying to help was enough. The pain that drilled through him every month could last for days or a week depending on how fatal the injuries were. Of course he would just tell his boss he was sick but eventually he knew that would become a lie and it would be more obvious, especially when he was only taking days off around the full moon. Remus should have been more careful or at least been honest instead of lying every month about who he was. Adam had not seemed hesitant when he fired Remus but he didn’t want to relive that memory. “Adam is...he is a fine man. Sometimes. Elena was there and talked to me, but...Adam is also smart. Of course he found out and with the attacks and more attention to werewolves I’m sure he is scared. Like everyone else. I hate it. No one else will want me.”

“Oh, do we?” Remus echoed, carefully wording his sentence sharply. It was rare he ever actually got frustrated but now he could feel the heat rising in his throat. “I’m not saying to bloody punch Camilla in the face. Gods, that’s not what I’m saying. She is your coworker, yes, I’m aware. I would rather not hear her name or anything about her with all due respect. Hopefully you can consider that before doing so.” Remus felt his chest rising and his frustration rising with it, turning away sharply and drinking the rest of his second drink. The burn felt numb in his throat and he ignored it. Every time he heard Camilla’s name or anything about her, Remus thought about her relationship to his family and her father and what they did together. It made him feel stomach weak and he faintly heard Zephyr resign the conversation.

“Yes, well. I’m damned entirely.” Remus knew what people would be saying and didn’t want to hear anything about it. Everyone was against the werewolf reforms and other creatures and there was little Remus could do and he knew he needed to be registered. Remus heard Zephyr close to him and tipped his chin up. Finally, his eyes looked up and he forced himself to stare back. “I know, but...I feel like that’s all I’m doing and eventually I feel like I will hurt you or something will happen. Just stay here with me...I promise I don’t have to talk about myself like this if you don’t want to hear it. Please, let me know if I’m being hard.” Remus stayed in his place for a moment and watched as Zephyr made his way to the couch. He felt a twinge better than he did before, but still he felt lost for every thought he was feeling. Silently, Remus pushed himself from where he was standing and followed behind Zephyr. At least he deserved a drink and if Zephyr was going to take it from him, he had no choice but to follow. Remus sat down on the couch, feeling his muscles relax and leaned himself on Zephyr’s shoulder. “Give me that damn bottle. Please.”

Zephyr:

"A bad person wouldn't be worried about not being good." That response came out instantly, it wasn't something that Zephyr even had to think about because that was something his mom used to tell him. Bad people didn't feel guilty about what they did, good people did. Good people wanted to be better and bad people wouldn't try. "And you're being a good boyfriend by letting me know what's going on in your head, so even if you don't want to cut yourself any slack, I'm going to do it for you until life stops sucking so much. I'll still hold you responsible if you screw up, but you're not a bad person even if you feel like one." Hadn't they had this same conversation about him being a werewolf before and being a monster? Some people had issues that kept popping up and Zephyr wasn't surprised at all by the idea that this was one of Remus'. "I know you're not happy about it and I shouldn't be encouraging you, but getting kicked out of the Ministry twice does sound pretty bad ass to me," Zephyr admitted, pausing before kissing Remus' hair and adding quietly, almost in explanation. "My mom would have been impressed." And that meant something to Zephyr even if it wouldn't mean anything to Remus. His mom may have been a ministry employee, but she also advocated for keeping an eye on your government instead of trusting them blindly and Zephyr liked to think she wouldn't have been a fan of the shit they were pulling by taking advantage of people's fear, either.

It would be impossible to learn about someone's entire childhood in the short amount of time he and Remus had known each other because for as normal as if felt for their lives to mesh together most days, Zephyr knew that the stress from the war could have impacted how quickly they bonded and was most likely responsible for the way it seemed like they'd know each other for ages when in reality, it hadn't even been a full year. But no matter much Zephyr did or didn't know about Remus' parents, he'd heard enough about Remus' father the night they got together to know that he thought the man was an asshole and he didn't particularly approve of his parenting methods. "You don't have to tell me about any of that until you're ready. I know enough to know you have good reason to be pissed at your dad and maybe he had his reasons, but I don't like the idea of them tying you up. Guess maybe it's because you were a kid and kids just deserve better than that." He'd made a quip once about tying Remus up and while he didn't remember exactly what Remus had said in response anymore, he remembered getting the distinct impression it wasn't something he should bring up unless he wanted to upset Remus and it sounded like he'd found out why.

Since they'd started dating, Zephyr had tried not only to learn as much about Remus' transformations as he could, but also as much about his life as possible and part of that came in the form of his friends and his work. Zephyr had visited Remus enough to have met his coworkers, Elena had helped him out before and while Zephyr wouldn't go so far as to say he knew Adam, but that didn't stop him from wanting to track the guy down and have a few choice words with him. Logically, yes, he had the power to fire Remus. Logically, fine, he probably could have made a case to fire Remus for all the times he was late and sure, Zephyr acknowledged that sneaking off while Remus was working to trade off blow jobs was probably frowned upon in most bookstores, but that was logic and Zephyr was fueled more by emotion and his heart said his boyfriend was hurt and he should fucking do something about it. Listening was what would actually help Remus, but damn, was it hard to convince himself to just sit back and not do anything. "How did Elena feel about it?" He asked in what he thought was a tactful avoidance of debating yet again if anywhere else would want Remus to work for them.

He was trying to be tactful. He was trying to be useful and patient and understanding, he was trying to push down his own anger in response to Remus' problems and it wasn't personal, but for the first time since the conversation started, Zephyr felt irritation flare up in response to how Remus was reacting to him. "I get that you're pissed right now, but count to ten and breathe." He said shortly, taking his own advice and drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Not terribly helpful, but at least it kept him from snapping back and forgetting what his real goal was. "The only reason I brought up her name was as a suggestion to help you, I wasn't trying to make things worse. It was a suggestion, it was a shitty one, I'm working on keeping my ideas to myself and listening, but remember that even when I screw up, I'm on your side and not going to pick anyone over you. Conversation over."

It was likely a good thing Zephyr never had the grades to follow his mom's career track because chances were his temper would have gotten him kicked out in a span of months and then all that work would have been for waste, but maybe he would have been in a better place to argue for Remus. Or maybe not if he could sway public opinion, he didn't know, but first was working on Remus' opinion. "We're going to hurt each other's feelings sometimes, it will happen. Then we'll kiss and make up and be stronger for it. You can complain all you want, but I'm still going to tell you when you're being too hard on yourself." He was sure Remus meant too hard to handle, but he ignored that and conveniently interpreted how he wished to. Settling onto the couch, Zephyr handed over the bottle to Remus before wrapping an arm around him, playing with his hair while holding him close. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." He said quietly. "And don't argue. I'm not talking about for getting fired or getting kicked out of the Ministry, I'm proud of you for sitting here and talking about it instead of bottling it up. I'm proud of you for caring enough and wanting to see things done to get in trouble in the first place and not just locking yourself up somewhere to break you. That's what they want and you're not doing it. I'm proud of you."

Remus:

There was always a time he knew that Remus needed to stop talking before he deepened the conversation off the ledge. His heart was hammering in his chest and the topic of him not being good was something he thought he needed to argue, his lips already twisting to reply but his words died in his mouth. This whole month had led him to believe that but Remus was struggling with the reality of what he was for years before it was printed to the masses. Everyone thought he was abnormal now, people he didn’t even know that if they knew that about him they would be leaving or advocating for him to behind bars. Remus was short to agree with them but knew there were others like him, others that were dealing with unsolicited remarks already and Remus was fortunant or a coward to not face the public with the same boldness. “They’ll say I’m a bad person. They are expecting me to react and I did and...look where that led me.” It was a dismissive thought and he knew his actions had been impulsive but the only one he felt the most guilt for was Fabian and Moody. It was something he couldn’t take back. A first fight that he wasn’t expecting. A fight with his father was only normal but in front of a crowd was a fear that Remus overcame quickly. Remus didn’t argue with Zephyr, smiling inwardly at the comment. “Yes, well. I don’t think losing a job and losing a position in the Order for a few weeks is the reward for being a bad ass-” His explanation stopped and he gazed up at Zephyr with a soft smile. “Yeah? Did she get kicked out as well once or twice?”

There was so much to comb through to even reach where Remus was today. Every thought and effort that led him to doing what he did was because of who he was and not really what he was, al though it was a strong character trait as well. It had been a normal childhood for the most part ignoring the one day a month that everything wasn’t normal. But from their conversations before and times Remus felt the urge to talk about his past, he knew Zephyr got the impression of who his father was. “Thank you...it’s just. Weird, I guess. I accepted who and what I was because he told me that. It was never weird to me. But hearing other people’s childhoods...and what they did and what I didn’t. I didn’t realize I was different-I mean of course I did but I didn’t realize how much I missed out on because my father was being dramatic. I suppose he thought locking me up every day even on the full moon was for the best. People in the town would talk and he never liked rumors. My mother though...she was always there. She treated me like an actual kid. Gave me memories. She was my only friend until school, actually.”

It had been a few years that Remus worked at the bookstore. He started not soon after he graduated and knew it was a good opportunity to earn money going forward for rent and other expenditures. It wasn’t something Remus looked forward to, but now his days felt even more lonely without having something to do. There was no job and he was living off of the last few checks and some money from friends that he didn’t want to touch yet. Remus shrugged his shoulders against the question. “She came out after me when I stormed out. I didn’t tell her why I was fired but it was nice to talk someone directly after. I know Adam and I rarely got along but I thought he was better than letting me go because of this...I don’t even know where to get a job-if somewhere finds out I’m a werewolf after a month of absences they will fire me. If purebloods find out I’m working at a muggle place, they will find me. I don’t exactly know where to look now.” Remus knew the professor job at the school would be the best for him if he had compromised his frustrations with his actual income needs. It would have been more beneficial now with everything but knew there was a chance of the same thing happening at the school. Parents could be furious at Dumbledore for allowing him to work there if they knew and that wasn’t a line he wanted to cross quite yet.

The mention of Camilla stirred heat in his words and he was trying to swallow his frustration but his mind was hung on the idea of her. This had been a shared effort of her fault and Remus could easily point a finger at her for advocating for the registration as if someone like her couldn’t be hurt as well. Remus remembered her in the bookshop that day, trying to get Remus to listen to her but Remus would much rather hit a book over his head than listen to what she needed to say. His fists were curling by his sides and tried to ration his thoughts as Zephyr told him to calm down. “Yeah, well. Perhaps you’ve learned not to bring her up to help me,” Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. There were only a few times he would get upset at Zephyr but now he knew that walking out the door for fresh air seemed a better option than letting the air around him suffocate him. Apparating back to his own flat for the night seemed like an enticing option but when Zephyr called the conversation over and stepped away, Remus stayed and stared down at the ground as if burning holes into it with his gaze.

Remus sighed out to himself, dragging his breath out to try to get it back to being even. This was all happening and falling around him, nothing seemed good except for Zephyr and Remus couldn’t lose him. Not because of his behavior and being frustrated at the situation and not at him. He was right. Remus sat down on the couch at first a few feet away but shuffled closer, leaning his head against the curve of Zephyr’s neck. Even though he said not to argue with him, Remus wanted to. There was nothing to be proud of. He didn’t accomplish anything except for his name being on a banned list from places he thought he could be. The Ministry kicked him out twice, his work fired him, the Order put him on temporary leave. There was nothing he could do and it wasn’t something to be prideful of. “Talking helps. If I don’t talk I get trapped in my head. It’s not the best place to be...but thank you. It’s good to have someone listen. And I...I don’t know what to do.”

Zephyr:

"People say a lot of shit. Some of them are going to call you a bad person and you know what? Maybe you're going to do a bad thing sometimes, but that doesn't make you evil. You're human, you're going to fuck up, and you know what you do? You suck it up and you go apologize to the ones you did wrong, you do not apologize for who you are. Because there's nothing wrong with you. For every single damn time someone calls you a bad person, I'm going to tell you that you're not. And I may get in a few fights over your honour, too, and no, you're not going to talk me out of that because bigots have it coming." Bigots? Racists? Speciesists? Whatever in the hell you called them, but he was prone to ranting again and he was trying not to do that again, instead just letting Remus get it out of his system and feel listened to instead of feeling managed, so Zephyr forced himself to suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, adjusting his view again and flashing Remus a quick grin. "If they'd kicked my mother out, she probably would have went out the wrong door with her middle finger in the air. I've been told it's a miracle she didn't get fired, but I think she was suspended a couple of times." Zephyr admitted as he shrugged one shoulder, his smile as lopsided as his body language. He wasn't ever going to know what day to day life was like for Remus, especially not with the registry in place, but the least he could do was try to distract him, remind him he was good and special and, most important of all, put that smile on his face.

It was weird how much a parent could fuck up a kid without even trying. You could tell them something once and their brain would suck it up like a sponge and suddenly it was ingrained in who they were even if they forgot about it when they grew up, they could learn actions and patterns and it would just seem so normal to them because they came from the world that formed their personality. It was proof of how daunting parenthood was and Zephyr could admit that it was probably a good thing he didn't have kids or else he would likely fuck it up as well. "Well, he's still your dad. When you're a kid, it's your parents that shape your world and back then, it's not like you had any reason not to trust him, right? Normal was what your parents said it was, but that doesn't mean they were right about everything. I get that it can be hard to unlearn some of the things you were taught, but... just because something was done one way doesn't make it the best or the only way. I wish your dad could find a better way, but at least you had your mom. She still sounds like one hell of an incredible lady. But then again, she raised you, so I know she was."

Sometimes Zephyr looked in the paper for things to take Remus out to do, various events and activities that they could use for bonding experiences if not outright dates and Zephyr supposed that he would have to start looking at job listings as well, although he wasn't really sure what Remus would be willing to do for a paycheck. "I hope she gives Adam hell for firing you. I know he could have fired you for other things because let's face it, baby, you weren't so good at being on time, but still... you've worked there for a while, he should have known better." Maybe he was just using it as an excuse to fire Remus, something that was more of a hot topic that just oversleeping to get Remus out of the store, Zephyr wasn't sure, but he knew that he was angry either way at Adam Price for providing yet another blow to Remus' self-esteem when so many things seemed to make him want to crumple lately. "Do you want to at least try to find a magical job? I can help you look if you want to test it out, but... fuck, I hate saying this, but if you're worried about what people will say, muggle is probably better. I don't know if purebloods would care enough to track you down to a muggle place. And if you want to try going back to Dumbledore and seeing if he had some other place for you, well, I still want to visit that place, so I'll back you up on that option, too."

Zephyr felt like he was running out of ways to say that he supported Remus because that was all that he really wanted to do. He knew he couldn't solve things, but he could at least offer ideas and suggestions, could go over different options, but it seemed like that was just going to lead to them snapping at each other. Maybe it would be best to shelve the useful stuff to a later time when Remus wasn't so worked up or else chances were they would end up saying something they regretted, which wasn't what Zephyr wanted. He didn't give a fuck about Camilla, didn't consider her a friend as much as a tolerable work colleague, but her standing with him had dropped considerably for what she'd done against Remus and how could Remus doubt that? Why didn't Remus know that Zephyr was on his side at not palling it up with the woman that was apparently Remus' enemy behind his back? Certainly not a good thing to focus on and Zephyr helped himself to a larger swallow of alcohol than he really needed as he slouched down on the couch, wanting to move attention back to Remus where it belonged instead of anyone else.

Some of the tension he'd felt during the Camilla conversation eased away as Remus tucked against his side, head fitting in the curve of his neck and Zephyr kissed the top of his head, fingers brushing along skin in an effort to soothe him. "We're going to take it one day at a time, okay?" He promised quietly, the words murmured into Remus' hair. "I love you for you, not because of your blood status or your job or your standing in the Order. No matter what's happened, I'm going to be here to help you through it. Just let me know what's going through your head, okay? Even when it's a problem I can't solve for you, I can listen. I can give you booze. And I can sit right here with you and hold you until the world sucks less. How about first we say that we spend the rest of the night just sitting here drinking and not worrying about fixing anything until tomorrow, does that sound like a start? Then we can tackle one problem at a time and figure out what you want to do."

Remus:

“That-Yes, I don’t think everyone will get upset about who I am...but more about what I am. I’m not going to apologize to everyone...that’s what they want. They want me to be detained-to be closed off. It’s just the full moon day now but in a few months it could be off all the streets at all times. I’m not even part of a pack and I’m considered a threat. They still haven’t found the pack who killed Marlene and her family...I would do anything to find out.” It was the first time since the funeral Remus had said Marlene was killed aloud and Remus could feel himself shake as he did. The pack had been in Ireland and he knew werewolves could travel but not that fast to be in London. If they were someone would know. Someone could have details and Remus knew that going into the Auror Department with a blind mission had been more of a suicide mission. Everyone was trying to solve Marlene’s death. His first thought had been Greyback but Remus had not heard of him being involved in anything since January. Even if he told himself a thousand times Fenrir did it, he didn’t know if he could believe it. “I don’t need you fighting my fights, alright? I’m capable of doing them myself, but unless someone starts an argument with me, I want to stay far from fights if I can help it. I can’t afford to be kicked out of any other establishments for my...my behavior.” Remus always liked it when Zephyr shared information about his mother and even being compared to her felt like an accomplishment. “Well, she seems pretty bold. I didn’t go out with a middle finger but Kingsley did have to talk me down from going back and starting another fight...a talk with Kinsgley and Moody are two people I would rather not disappoint and I did.”

It never occurred until Remus went to school that he figured out that his home life had been different than others. It didn’t matter about changing once a month into a monster but the psychological behavior that was implemented through that. When Remus told Zephyr about his father before, the same feeling occurred of knowing he could have had it worst. He could have been in a house with someone like Sirius’ family that wasn’t as forgiving. “Yes, he’s still my dad...whatever estranged definition we share each other he is still my father. I know nothing I had was perfect-my father was hardly around...my mom wouldn’t like this. What he’s done. I don’t think he’s aware of that. He was always thinking about himself...I think he thought this would be the best for me but...of course he’s wrong.” At the mention of his mother, Remus’ face softened and shrugged his shoulders. “She was great. She would have liked you.”

Remus wasn’t oblivious and knew he and Adam didn’t have the best relationship with each other but Remus didn’t think he would actually fire him the first excuse he could pick up on. He exhaled a short breath and shrugged his shoulders in defense. “I don’t think she would. But it’s fine. She doesn’t have to. I don’t want anyone else causing trouble for the sake of me. I know I could have done better...but I don’t know if that would have changed his mind. Adam was doing his job...it was twisted but he did.” Remus had not begun to think about what he would do when he got fired. It was something he never thought he would have to consider and now the reason why he got fired was implementing the same counterproductive hiring process in other jobs. As if reading his mind, Remus sagged against the counter with his gaze on the ground. “I-I don’t know...I can’t think of anything that I could do. You think they’re hiring dragon tamers? Is it too late to get into quidditch? I know I could get a job in the city anywhere else but...when Marlene died she...she gave me-or the law...gave me some money. I guess I have that while I figure out what to do. Until then...I’ll be fine, alright?”

There was nothing else to give and Remus knew that bringing up Camilla had been something that stung. He knew Zephyr didn’t have any malice behind the conversation which is why Remus surrendered the conversation to be mute. There were more reasons that Remus didn’t want to bring to the surface about why Remus felt indifferent to Camilla but he didn’t think to mention it now. Remus also didn’t need Zephyr starting fights at his work again in his favor, something that would later weigh heavily on his conscious. Remus found peace as he melted against Zephyr and the silence, humming and tangling his fingers in with Zephyr’s. “One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute...it’s going to get harder.” It wasn’t a question and Remus nodded at his own words, closing his eyes as he rested against Zephyr. “Here I thought you were very into unemployed violent halfbloods,” Remus grinned teasingly in response. It was nice to know Remus could turn to Zephyr for anything. He was the only one he trusted with anything besides the marauders and that was so rare recently. “Listening and talking and drinking. You’re speaking my language. I know-I know the world will go down six feet under before it gets better but...as long as I have you then I will be okay. I think not worrying and only drinking sounds like a good night. For now I don’t want to tackle anything. I just want to sit here with you. If that’s alright.”

Zephyr:

What Remus should apologize for and what society in general wanted him to apologize for happened to be two very different things and Zephyr nodded along. If Remus broken something or hurt someone, he was a good enough person to apologize for that without being told, but that didn't mean that he should apologize to someone that was offended by the idea of a werewolf roaming the streets and it was that sort of unfeeling, privileged asshole that made Zephyr's temper rise. He wanted to rage against the idea of being not being allowed on the streets at all, he wanted to promise he would fight against that and took whatever he could to help, but the mention of Marlene cooled his temper. While her death was upsetting, Zephyr knew Remus was far more familiar with her and that even if she hadn't been a friend, it would have mattered more to him for the way she was killed. "I'm not trying to fight them for you, I'm saying that I'll fight them with you. But I'll try not to go adding anymore fighting problems to our lives right now even if you are worth getting in a fight over." God, if only it was as easy as knocking someone out to solve problems. If only that would make people realize werewolves weren't monsters, if only it would get the right people locked up, if only. But it didn't work like that. There can a point when more violence wasn't helping and while it might have made Zephyr feel better, it wasn't what Remus wanted and that meant Zephyr had to wait, he could blow his top some other time and he tapped his fingers in a meaningless rhythm against his thigh. "She was bold. Got into a lot of trouble when she first started because some of the others thought she only made it because Grandma campaigned for the President. I think going down fighting shows it matters. Sometimes we disappoint people, god knows I have, but it doesn't mean you can't fix it in time."

If Remus wanted something, then Zephyr believed in him enough to think he would at least try and he knew that he would support him, regardless of if that was patching things up with Moody or when it came to dealing with his father and the registry he'd passed. "Do you want to tell me about the fight the two of you had? I know things were bad before, after your mom..." Zephyr knew what Remus's mom had wanted him to promise, but it seemed like Remus' dad was intent on burning anything between them after her death. "I can't say anything about your dad, I don't know if he did this for his career or if he thought it would keep kids from being bit like you, but you shouldn't be hurt in the process." Probably something his mom would agree on, from what Zephyr knew of her. "I would have been on my most charming behavior. Would've called her ma'am and brought her flowers and promised I'm only a bad influence on you half the time," He said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"It sucks what he did, well, it sucks why he did it, but people get fired all the time. It happens. It may be hard to find another job for a while, but you will find one eventually and I think if Marlene gave you money, then she'd probably want you to use it to buy yourself time to find you care about and not just rush into finding the first shitty job that will take you. It sounds like Marlene gave you options, so... make her proud with how you use them, right?" Zephyr hesitated, licking his lips and getting the feeling that Remus wouldn't like what he was about to say, but that was a feeling he'd gotten though the entire conversation. "You're fine now and you know that even when her money runs out, even if you find a job and end up fired again, you know you'll still be fine financially, right? Don't get pissed, okay? It's not something you need to think about now, I'm just saying you have enough people that care about you that you're not going to end up homeless on some street just because you're between jobs."

While Zephyr had never shied away from an argument, it would be a lie to say that he didn't feel better to have Remus relaxing against him, their fingers intertwined. Not so much because he was afraid to fight with Remus, they'd been finding things to disagree on since they met, but because he didn't like Remus being upset and hated even more the fact that he couldn't fix it for Remus. He had a strong urge to protect and provide, but at some point he had to step back and accept that he couldn't make the world fall in line for Remus and he would have have to be there for him. "You want to know what my type it? It's cute boys that like books, boys that are shorter than me so I can pin them against walls. Being a pretty blusher is a requirement and you can't go wrong with having a smart mouth, that's pretty important. I think you fit the bill, don't you?" He remembered telling Remus what he was interested in the night they got together and Zephyr was intentionally trying to echo his words from that night, just not calling him a bookstore guy anymore. "You have me, baby," Zephyr promised quietly, handing the bottle back over while he kept playing with Remus' fingers. "I may be an asshole that has no idea how to deal with any of this, but I'm not going anywhere. I know it's going to get tough, but you've got me. At rock bottom and the top, I'll be here."

#t: Remus #remuslxpns #dm: Remus 3

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