MR. THE STAMPEDE, WHAT DID THIS EBAY SELLER DO TO YOU???

Also shout-out to this GRATUITOUS BUTT SHOT

Made this one some time ago and had the HONOR of collabing with my dear friend @royai who wrote this AMAZING piece!

Love u Katie :3

After Dark

by @royai

It came as a surprise to Riza Hawkeye that the light could be as fearsome as the dark.

It never occurred to her that trouble could exist in the thin space between the two, that it should preserve itself there for a hundred years, maybe longer, and wait. She imagined herself as a girl asleep in her bed, moonlight slanting through her four-paned glass window, a ferry for the monsters and the things that were worse than monsters. Children checked under their beds and inside their closets, refused to venture into cellars and attics, thought of warding off the unknown with fat oil lamps and candles melting into their brass candlesticks. That things with spindly arms and bodies blacker than ink could use light as a conduit for their demented games… 

That they could touch her, even…

Nightmares took up residence in Riza’s sleep. In her waking too, they lingered there, limned her mind with the briefest flashing of tendrils. She curled into herself at night, closed her eyes on the horrors. The blackness found her, though. A million spider’s legs on her body, ghosting the flesh, raising the hairs, and that line on her cheek where the monster had touched her would weep. And she would weep, too, because it had been so long since dread had forced its way in. The tendrils brought strange, frantic memories to the forefront. A panic as familiar as church bells. 

Riza’s father, a monster in his own right, in the way that men become monsters and in the way that she had become a kind of monster too. He never minded her but to be those tendrils in the dark. Never in the light. That was her comfort, her safety, her promise.

The light.

A betrayal.

***

Central reached for her like a beggar. Grimy hands, oil-stained, gunk under fingernails chipped and jagged, it closed its hands around her and she was reminded, again, again, again, about the stories her father would tell. He would tell them in his sleep, and make promises of them in her ear, and he would tell them, even, through mouthfuls of blood. That Central was a bastard city. Its towers, spires, and cobblestones bathed in storefront lights bleeding from ornate windows, in the yellow glow of street lamps. 

Riza left her apartment and slipped off a curb, first thing. 

She remembered her first night in the city. Automobiles flicked light into her windows, made shapes out of the lamp she kept on a pile of boxes in the living room. Shadows in the dark. There were sounds all the time. Movement like tree branches.

Back East, back home, Riza could wander into the fields when she couldn’t sleep. She took a military vehicle into the countryside, an hour or so west, just a bit further inward. It parked fine on the dirt roads. Headlights would go black, melt into the darkness all around, and the hip-high grass cradled her as she sank down, down into the cottony earth. Most people counted sheep to sleep; Riza counted stars, stalks. 

She always woke before the sun. Home in time to rinse the sticks from her hair and brew coffee on her electric stove. 

Central did not exist to afford her any of that. Central was alive like hordes of flies are alive. Incessant buzzing, a whirring in your ear that you can’t see, that you worry might bury itself in your eardrum. Even before the tendrils and the monsters Riza would lie awake in her bed, books unearthed from boxes, clothes folded in neat squares over her dresser, a chest of drawers not quite filled yet, her apartment unpacked and unsettled, and fret over the whole of it: Central. 

She slipped off the curb and scraped her achilles on the concrete. Her teeth crashed together with the force, and she massaged her jaw as she reached down to rub her wounded ankle, fingers coming away wet and red.

A car beat over the cobbled street, spewing dampness from its tires. Riza wasn’t aware that it had rained but she smelled it now, acute and intense, like a single pinprick on the skin. 

Out east, that smell was earthy, ancient: soaked stone and evergreens, swollen carriages and damp horse hide, wetted dirt and a choked fire. 

Riza took Longmont to Leander, cutting her way through the city via back alleys where moonlight and street light was caught on brick corners and cordoned off by severe angles. She read the stories of women assaulted in Central well past dark, and had seen all the headlines he placed strategically at her desk, a tiny dog-shaped paperweight holding the newspaper steady until the moment Riza could read it and be properly warned. But it was never the people of Central who made her uneasy.

It was several blocks to his apartment. Riza folded herself into the dark. The creature could follow but he could not show himself here, not without a conduit, not without the light. Everything black, nothing inside of it, a void. 

A rectangle of light exploded over the ground. Riza stopped, terror seizing her hard. A woman with greying hair hummed and whistled as she sprinkled water out over hanging potted plants. Riza’s chest bounced frantically as she watched the shadow of the woman’s hands in the light, the shadow of the watering can wandering back and forth across the chasm of yellow, methodical as a pendulum. 

It happened so suddenly that Riza had little time to react. A mist, a gathering shadow, one red eye peeked out at her from the fluttering darkness. Then, like snakes, tendrils crept out of the line of black and into the little patch of light. Riza willed the woman to close the window, begged her, thought for a moment that she might shout or cry, but it was likely that the woman would only become curious and the window would remain uncovered as she came to watch from her lighted perch. 

The monster was an ancient child and yet, in this form, none of his features were childlike. His smile was wolfish and cruel, thin like a knife’s blade, and his tendrils sharp as barbs. They thrashed up against the liquid dark where Riza was hiding, attempting to gather her by the ankles. 

The child spoke using a dozen voices.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Home, she thought. An impulse, the truth, spoken so carelessly in her mind. To him. To the stars or the stalks, that tall grass and damp earth. Somewhere known. 

“You have made a rather purposeful attempt to evade me.”

“Forgive me,” she bit, “but our last meeting was less than enjoyable.”

The monster smirked.

“Do I trouble you so much, little Riza?”

The nickname, familiar in sound, comforting in its use, was a bitter poison on his tongue. 

“I’ll ask again for transparency.” The tendrils clawed at the ground, raked it. “Where are you going?”

Away from Central. 

Away from the light.

To him. To him. To him. 

He’ll shut off all the lights, pull all the curtains closed, feed her hot tea and leftover lentil soup and summer sausage. His apartment will smell like cologne and the candle with petals baked into it, and they’ll settle into the down of his bed and see nothing, and the monster will never even realize he has lost. 

“You have only as long as the window stays open,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am not bound to you. I can go wherever I want.”

As she said it, the woman in the window started to stir. Her footsteps grew closer, the sound of the humming rising, rising, rising into the final closing of the curtain. The monster’s frown was washed away by the night.

Riza ran.

His apartment was several blocks east of Central Headquarters. The storm’s eye, the quiet, the massive, white and oppressive thing. Riza wound her way past it without managing to sneak a glance. She didn’t need to. She could feel its gaze on her, what all of it represented. And the squared coach lights were tiny pillars of threats, waiting for her to come closer and be beckoned. 

She thundered past several shuttered windows; an older man on a stoop hunched close to the ground; the sounds of women chattering together like preening birds, their heels clicking over cracked brick and concrete. 

Riza took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward through the hall light, praying nothing would lurch out from the darkness and drag her away. She learned at a young age to fear the sudden jerk of the unknown. 

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he said. He must have heard her coming, because his door was wrenched open, and he stood there in pajamas and holding a cup of tea, the bag still soaking. 

“We’ve had an emergency at the office, sir.”

His brows trundled downward. 

“Please, come in,” he said, and moved aside as she nearly tripped her way into his apartment. “Excuse the mess.”

There was no mess, not quite like someone would expect. The Colonel’s apartment was better kept than hers, although she had just moved and he had gotten to stay. Things were collected together in neat piles: alchemy books gathered at one arm of the couch, on the floor, an old mug sat atop them, and there were coats strewn about too, though placed strategically, two on dining chairs and one on the lounge by the front door. Pots hung together in clumps along his kitchen walls, white-tiled, much nicer than Riza’s tan wallpaper; and on his floor, beneath the coffee table, several sewn blankets, all gifts from the Madame’s girls, as far as anyone knew. 

Riza reached for one as she folded herself into his couch. “Please, sir. Can you turn off the lights?”

He set his tea on the counter. Again, he looked at her with concern, but the lights started to fall away the closer he came to her. First the kitchen, the six squares of dining space, the hall light he shut off as he sat opposite to her on the couch. The lamp was last. And finally, with the lights of Central thoroughly shut out, Riza could breathe.

It was much like how she would lock herself in the bathroom as a child, plugging the bottom of the door with a wet towel, the waxy shower curtain a flimsy barrier between herself and her raging father. Eventually he removed the locks, and then the knobs. Even now, she felt the cold,  hard press of the tub’s porcelain on her back. 

“Thank you.”

Silence, and then: “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Coming home. 

“I’m not sure myself, sir.”

The Colonel shifted his weight. He was a full cushion away from her, but his heat radiated all the same. 

“What happened to your cheek?”

“I cut it on a bramble while fetching a lost toy for Hayate at the park.”

Fingers pressed to her skin, a thumb ran slanted along her wound. 

It was reminiscent of childhood, for sure. Riza had always courted this quiet, contemplative darkness. It was when she was a little older that she invited Roy into it, and he welcomed the invitation, and he was a kind, treasured guest. But tonight she was feeling particularly fragile. 

She took his hand and fit his knuckles under her chin. 

The monster had allowed her to be here, that much was certain. There was no other reason that he wouldn’t have stolen her from those stairs. 

She crushed Roy’s hand into herself. 

What was he after?

What was the motive?

Was it… afraid?

Roy leaned closer to her. His fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to say something, she knew, or ask her why she had come to him and begged for the dark. 

She would not tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight she was fragile. 

Riza found his mouth in the dark. She set his hand free and it wrapped itself around the curve of her neck, tipping her head back. His other hand gave her hair a gentle tug. 

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask around her lips, while she occupied herself with tracing the scars on his hip and in his abdomen. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her until she was on her back and he had to brace himself against the arm of the couch. “Lieutenant,” he said, though the sentiment was weak, ill-willed. He was attempting and failing at control.

“I’m all right,” she said, and kissed him again. He tasted like his tea. Again his fingers brushed the cut on her cheek, and as they did she was shocked, jolted. She broke away from him and sat upright. “I’m, uh…”

“I really just need to know if you’re all right.” 

“I’m going to go.”

“Lieutenant— Riza.”

The name was too much, the break in her skin was too much, the darkness was not enough. It was not enough. The curtain hadn’t been enough. The porcelain. All the nights cascaded in the dark, the world pulling itself to a close around her, fitting like a glove. 

“I have to go.”

The Colonel kept to his place on the couch as she stood and put her hand on the door and wondered again about what the monster wanted. 

She hadn’t known as a child, and she had survived anyway.

She had survived.

The light swallowed her whole.

Imposter: Coms

Part 2:Coms

An interactive bnha among us au:

Word count: 2,680

Warnings: This series contains descriptions of murder and dismemberment, Deception and morally questionable actions, Angst and betrayal.

Masterlist -> Here

Taglist: @redbeanteax​ @tspice283​ @kurinhimenezu​  @simpforeveryone @ queenlibra134 

           Shinsou looked at each and everyone one of you, thought creasing his brows. His eyes bore into you the longest, vibrant plum hues narrowed in frothy suspicion. Everyone waited with baited breath, suits squeaking as the lot of you shifted uncomfortably. A slow thick puddle of lead settling in your bellies at the thought of being in a group with a Sticur. There was no other sound on the vessel save for the whirring of machinery and the dull hum of the oxygen pump filling the ship with air.  

Remorse gripped at your trembling heart, there was a parasitic alien aboard. It had quite possibly slithered into someone’s body all because you forgot to throw out trash… You were slowly sinking into the quicksand of self-loathing only for your Captain to call you to attention. 

“(Lastname) You're with me and Bakugou.” He ordered. Bakugou nodded curtly, vermillion eyes lacerating your form, he didn’t have to speak in order for you to pick up on why his hues were so sharp. You felt your heart plummet when his fingers flexed over the taser, you eyes quickly shifting towards the grey flooring. 

“Hagakure, Kirishima, Kaminari and Shindo, your cafeteria. Make sure to clear the area and make sure there are no signs of another one.” 

“Sir.” They nodded. 

You heard the sound of their clunky boots hitting the metal as they walked towards the cafeteria, you had almost thought them halfway across the storage room when a heavy hand suddenly dipped your shoulder. Your feeble blood pumping organ almost lurched out of your throat at the contact but the sight of the hot pink suit allowed you to breath out a stream of air. 

“Be careful.” Shindo nodded, his dark eyes glaring at the Captain and the head of security. “Most of these people grew up and studied together so there’s no telling who’ll cover for who.” The last bit was spoken in a rushed murmur and before you could question him he was rushing off towards his temporary team. 

“Amajiki I’m going to need you to start setting up the lab, as soon as you get there you assess Midoriya and Mirio. The rest of us will follow as soon as we get done with our tasks.” Shinsou informed. 

Midoriya visibly trembled, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he thought of the current predicament. “Oi you're going to be fine.” Bakugou...Reassured. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t surprising. Shinsou motioned for the both of you to follow him and soon you were back in the communications room. 

“I need you to establish a secure connection to the tower.” He commanded, Your legs quickly carried you to one of the monitors in the room. 

“Sir the connection is stable but no one is picking up.” You sighed. 

“We’ll wait.” He huffed, crossing his arms. Static filled the room as you waited for those who were grounded to answer the distress signal. 

“Why the fuck aren’t they picking up.” Bakugou growled. 

“Lines are probably full.” You mumbled. “That and I gave Yaoyorozu an all clear before we found the...you know.”

Bakugou sneered at you, his lip curling to reveal his bared teeth. He was about to go off on you when you finally heard someone on the other side. 

“Alpha 251, what is your emergency.” The stoic voice was immediately recognizable and you shared a look with the seething blonde when your captain visibly stiffened. 

“Admiral Aizawa.” Shinsou stated. “There’s been a breach a Sticur has managed to get onboard.” 

“Fucking hell.” You heard the Admiral cuss, he called over a couple of people on the end of his line, he demanded information from them, nonsensical scientific jargon that you couldn’t comprehend. He asked you captain a plethora of questions from the time of the incident to any suspicious parties…. Unsurprisingly your name was mentioned along with Mirio. With a final sigh the Admiral gave Shinsou one last order.

“You are in the clear to use procedure AFO.” 

“Yes sir.” Shinsou sighed. 

You and Bakugou shared another look, his confused expression was all you needed to understand that he had no clue what AFO was. 

When the line cut off Shinsou motioned for Bakugou to come closer, you observed from behind the two of them, your heart hammering in your chest as Shinsou asked to see if the taser was in working order. 

“This.” He licked his lips in trepidation. “This is our only weapon.” His purple hues connected with both of you. 

“You can’t be serious.” You whispered. “Why is there only-

“To prevent mutiny.” Bakugou answered, attaching the item onto his belt. “....It was pretty 

common back then.” 

You could tell the blonde was holding his tongue, you were too, you had so many questions but your Captain was incredibly tight lipped. You only hoped he’d relay the essentials… 

The purple haired man motioned for you two to follow his cyan suit shifting as he walked out of the room and turned right. Your brows furrowed when you found yourself in the Shield’s room. Gloved fingers waved over a hologram and the image of the ship's forcefield enlarged. There were various shades of blue and red and a quiet curse word slipped from your superiors lips. 

“There’s a weak point near the Storage garbage chute.” He informed, WIthout a second thought he began to work on fortifying it. It looked like magic… the way he moved the holograms, he made them smaller, larger at times he’d vocalize a series of codes and you watched in mild fascination as some of the red areas bagan to turn blue. You watched him work until Bakugou cleared his throat, demanding your attention. 

“Don’t trust that Shindo guy.” He ordered…?

“And why not?” You scoffed. ‘He’s been a hell of a lot nicer to me than you’ve been’ is what you wanted to say. 

“He’s nothing but a no good liar.” He summarized. “I get that you might have gained a ‘liking’ for him but he has a partner back-”

“Woah, way to jump to conclusions.” You hissed. “First of all he’s not leading me on, I literally met him five days ago!? How the hell wou-”

“Would the two of you shut up.” Shinsou groaned. “..That’s weird.” He mused. “This looks like it was tampered with. I’ll have to check the logs.”

“Whose in charge of Shields?” Bakugou asked. 

“Midoriya.” Bakugou perked up at that. 

“Watch it, he’d never flub his job.” He defended, you shrugged. “That damned shitty nerd is great at his job.”

“What’s with you defending him.” You asked suspiciously. 

“None of your business.” He retaliated. You did catch him grumbling something about ‘being the only one who can come up with something to get us out of this.’ 

You shuffled awkwardly, the sound of Bakugou breathing and Shinsou working the only things audible above the usual spacecraft racket. 

“...Bakugou” 

“Hm” He grunted his gaze set on the long hallway behind you, the one you had walked down so carelessly earlier..

“A-aliens aren’t m-my forte, I only know that Sticur’s are parasites but what exactly do they do.. Well besides destroying their host.”

“Ha.” He scoffed. “They do so much more than rot you from the inside out.” He grit his teeth, his eyes boring holes into air. “Those fuckers are despicable. Once they enter your body it’s like nothing ever happened. Your memory of it slipping inside of you, gone. Once it’s inside it latches onto your brain and begins to absorb everything.”

You shivered at the description, you were about to comment when he continued. “They’re smart little bastards and they consume the host’s memories so that they know everything that the host has done, they can recall names, activities, faces, hell they take control and they act no different from the person they’ve overtaken.” 

“And that’s not even the worst of it.” Shinsou added, clapping his hands, his task finally finished. “They’re blood thirsty, once they’re in control they make a game out of killing any surrounding beings.”

“The motherfuckers don’t even need to eat so it’s all just fucked up fun for their kind.” Bakugou hissed. 

“T-then how do you know-”

“You don’t.” Shinsou sighed, beginning to walked down the corridor, “Well you can… but 

only in the first hours, while absorbing memories the Sticur will act unlike the host and throw up a disgusting gunk of putrid rot.” 

You thought back to the garbage chute. “Depending on the mental strength of a host the Sticur will induce vomiting a couple of times.” Your captain added. You couldn’t even begin to imagine that, having such a corrosive liquid bubble from your throat…. It sounded vile. Once you got to the end of the corridor your station opened up in front of you, the large windows allowing you to see the weaponry attached to the front of the ship. 

The lot of you didn’t dwell there as a symphony of voices rang in various tones in the cafeteria ahead. What threw you for a loop was that the rest of the crew was there, including Amakiki, Midoriya and Mirio. They stood helplessly near the other door as the four sent into the cafeteria argued. 

“I just want an explanation.” Hagakure huffed holding up a biohazard bag with more of 

the gooey rot. 

“Well what is there to explain?! It was obviously a set up!?” You heard...Kirishima shout!? You’ve never heard the lovable redhead raise his voice, especially not to Hagakure…

“Shut up Kirishima this doesn’t concern you!” Shindo hissed, stepping up closer to the burly man. Kaminari’s eyes were frantic, fear highlighting his golden hues. 

“Enough!” Shinsou shouted, stepping forward, he was quickly followed by Bakugou who wedged himself in between his friend and the aggressive brunette. “What’s going on?”

“We found more of this.” Hagakure answered, holding up the bag. 

“Where?” He asked. 

“In the Oxygen unit.” She replied. Your eyes darted to the last person you saw in there. 

“....Why were you in there? Your job was to check the cafeteria?” Your captain asked, His eyes darting to Kaminari as he clenched his fist at the implication.

“We decided to split up.” Shindo answered. “I remembered that there was a chute in the Oxygen unit and we left Kirishima and Kaminari here to check on this one while me and Hagakure went to check out the O2 chute.”

“I specifically told you to stay together.” Shinsou frowned. 

“It was better this way.” Hagakure added. “It’s a gamble but in twos it’d be easier to figure out who the imposter is. You know...If one doesn’t come back then it’s obviously the one who does.” She shrugged. 

Your captain mulled this over. And even you could agree that even though it was risky life it would work in weeding out the Sticur…. 

“And both of us came back, with this.” She continued. 

Kaminari hugged his mini-clone close, tears bubbling in his eyes at the accusation. “I-It’s not me, I swear it’s not. I-I was just cleaning out the filter. I didn’t even touch the chute.”

“...B-but what were you doing in the O2 room?” You heard Amajiki mumble. “You're an electrician…” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Kirishima seethed, startling everyone. “It’s not him! It can’t be him! And he was only there because he was assigned that task!” 

“Calm down.” Shinsou ordered, his eyes narrowing. “Before we continue with the accusations was anything found here?” 

“N-no it looks like this chute was emptied earlier today.” Kaminari sniffed, his eyes visibly red beneath his visor. Kirishima put his hand on the crying blonde’s shoulder, a heated glare set on those who were accusing his friend. Kaminari was openly crying now, and Kirishima’s hostile expression softened as he kneeled down to console him. 

“I still think it’s him.” You heard Hagakure whisper from behind you. You didn’t recall when but you had found yourself in the center of the cafeteria with your fellow crewmates. Silence reigned over all of you until Midoriya decided to say something essential. 

“We need to come up with a plan. It doesn’t matter if the Sticur knows our moves so long as we stick to it, we can wait it out until it’s host decomposes.” 

You way he dehumanized whoever was infected sat wrong with you but you were in no position to argue with one of the lead scientists. 

“Or until we get the test results.” Mirio added. That was all everyone needed to hear and slowly, you all walked to the Medbay and filed in. Blood was drawn from everyone, your eyes were peeled, wide and watchful as you tried to catch any odd reactions to the blood drawing. When all of the samples had been collected you all sat down around the room, some on the floor others on a cot. 

“I’ve decided our next step, this will be implemented until we catch the host. Hagakure and Shindo are right we can’t keep traveling in threes and fours, This ship requires too much maintenance for that. We’ll stick to pairs, everyone will know who is paired with who.” You all understood what that meant… But it wasn’t exactly comforting. 

“..W-what do we do when it’s caught?” Amajiki asked. 

“We eject the fucker.” Bakugou summarized. 

“You mean the airlock?” Kirishima asked, when it was confirmed he paled. “B-but what if we’re wrong? Aren’t Sticur’s supposed to be tricky? You know what’ll happen to someone who isn’t-

“We know.” Shinsou sighed. “I was cleared to use AFO, meaning all for one. HQ doesn’t care how but we’re not to advance or go back until the alien has been dealt with. It doesn’t matter who makes it back so long as it’s not the parasite.” 

It was then that the gravity of the situation hit you…. You could seriously die out here, If the alien didn’t get you, your own crewmates would literally shoot you out into the dust and gases of infinite space. 

“Wouldn’t the ejected body just stick close to the ship…” You mumbled trying to distract yourself from the thought. 

“Yes the ship’s gravity will have the body satellite the vessel, which is where you come in (Lastname).” Your captain replied. 

“What do you mean?”

“Once ejected, it’s your job as the weapon specialist to get rid of it, the vacuum won’t affect the parasite, so you’ll need to destroy it.” Your blood ran cold. “I’ve decided…. And it’s fitting considering that this is your fault. You’ll be the one to give the final verdict on who we eject, and you will end them. We’ll consider it a merciful death to those who might be unfortunate enough to find themselves thrown out, it’s better than the painful end they’d meet otherwise.”

“H-How can you say that?!” You shuddered. 

“HQ has abandoned us.. AFO is basically a last suicidal resort. So please (Name) please make the right decision.” He pleaded. 

You hugged your legs to your body, the cot you sat upon no longer feeling comfortable. In your hands were the lives of nine people. If you deduced who the Imposter was on the first go you’d all live. If not you would have killed someone innocent and if you don’t choose then the Sticur will pick you all off one by one…

Your eyes scanned the room, everyone's eyes were on you. You would hold off on using the airlock for now, you weren’t sure if you were ready to outright murder a comrade. And you weren’t sure if you had enough information to make the call. But there was someone you had in mind who gave you bad vibes and you discreetly stared at……

(Who did you stare at?)

Snape’s Snakes #1

Snape’s demeanour isn’t always the most pleasant but when it come to the well being of his snakes he really goes above and beyond. In a way when each Slytherin is sorted into his house they gain a father in Snape, regardless of whether they had one before. 

Peregrine Derrick is a fourth year with a secret. He is willing to take desperate steps to make himself comfortable in his own body but when it goes wrong it falls to Snape to set things right. 

(Trigger Warnings: Blood) 

Peregrine stared down at the potion in his hand. It wasn’t much, maybe only a few mouthfuls worth but he hoped its effects would last a few months at least. The liquid was a creamy purple, when he swirled the vial it clung to the sides like slime. If he were being honest with himself the thought of drinking it made his stomach turn.

But the thought of not drinking it made him want to cry and rip his eyes out. His fingers curled around the vial. He supposed it was better he took it soon. The Ravenclaw had told him it was best taken on an empty stomach. He wasn’t so sure about that but none of the information he’d been able to scrounge from the library about this particular potion said otherwise. But not eating beforehand was fine by him, he hadn’t fancied going down to breakfast anyway.

He took a deep breath, uncorking the vial and squinting at the potion uncertainty. It certainly looked right from what the books he’d read had described,not that they’d been particularly forthcoming about the appearance of this potion. He opened his mouth placing the glass against this lips and threw his head back.

The potion was slow to ooze into his mouth. It had an awful sludgy yet somehow grainy texture. It tasted bitter and burned his throat as he swallowed. He grimaced pulling the vial away from him lips disappointed to see he’d only managed to drain half of the potion. As he raised the vial to take another swig a voice called out to him.

“Perry!” Peregrine turned to see his friend, Lucian, looking at him in concern. He was dressed in his green Quidditch robes, his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. It was this moment that Peregrine realised he was likely late for Quidditch practice. He wasn’t even dressed yet, he hadn’t planned on spending so long thinking about this potion. Internally he swore, Marcus would be furious if he missed practice.

His friend approached him, his eyes glancing over the vial in his hand. “What’s that?” He asked apprehensively.

“Nothing.” Peregrine told him quickly, Lucian really didn’t need to know he’d only want to know where he had acquired such a potion. He hid the vial in his pocket. “I didn’t miss practice did I?”

“Not yet you haven’t, Marcus sent me to look for you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Peregrine said, pushing himself from the comfortable alcove in the Slytherin Common Room that he’d hidden himself in. Lucian took a step back to watch him pass.

A sharp pain stabbed through Peregrine’s gut as he took a step forwards. He stumbled placing a hand over his stomach half expecting to feel blood seeping from a wound. He felt sick at the thought but his hand was thankfully dry and looking down he could see no red stain seeping through his clothing. Good, he’d had enough of blood today

“You alright mate?” Lucian asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Peregrine took a deep breath the pain fading as suddenly as it had appeared, he straightened, shrugging Lucian’s hand away.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He told him quickly. “Just got to get changed.” With that he took off towards the Girl’s Dormitories not wanting to answer any other questions Lucian might have for him.

He tried not to look at the sign on the door of his room that said the names of those that slept there. He tried not to notice the wrong name etched into the silver plaque before Derrick, his surname. Every time he passed through this door he seemed to notice it.

Soon. He promised himself. The potion just had to take effect. He just had to work up the courage to tell his housemates and he supposed Snape as well then he wouldn’t have to deal with this. The potion would help, there would be no way they could deny him then.

He rooted through his trunk pulling out his Quidditch robes but before he could even move to change into them the stab of pain was back. This time he cried out, his legs giving way beneath him. His stomach felt as if it were on fire.

Peregrine gasped, clutching his hands to his stomach wondering if these were those period pains the girls he shared a room with spoke of. If they were he wondered how any of them got anything done. Was there even a potion or spell that would help with this? If there was was there one he could use in conjunction with the potion he desired to keep taking?

He tried to stand but the world tilted around him. His stomach contracted and he retched, the metallic taste of blood flooded into his mouth before splattering out down the front of his clothes. The pain spread to his chest and he found himself gasping for breathe. The edges of his vision started going black and he fell back onto the floor with a thud.

Lucian stared at his watch, his stomach twisting with every second that went by. Peregrine had been gone a good few minutes now and he knew his friend didn’t normally take this long to get changed. There was also the matter of the potion he’d seen him drink.

He didn’t know why he had a bad feeling about it, maybe Snape had given him a potion for something. But no, that couldn’t be right, when Snape gave out potions for various ailments he always made them drink it in front of him. There was no way he’d let a student take a potion away, he’d want to know for sure they’d consumed it.

It had been ten minutes since Peregrine had entered the dormitory. Marcus would have Lucian’s head if he didn’t bring their star seeker to practice soon and no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was worried. It was with this thought in mind that Lucian pushed on the door to the Girl’s Dormitories.

He felt the warmth of magic flooding through him. The wards reading him as not one who slept there but the magic was clever and could also read his intention. Lucian concentrated on his intention, to check on his friend, to see if he was alright. The door opened for him after only a moment.

“Perry?” Lucian called out approaching his friends door. “You’re taking ages mate. Are you ok?” He knocked on the door a couple of times, frowning when only silence answered him. “Ok dude. I’m coming in ok?” Again he heard nothing but silence so with his heart in his mouth he opened he door.

Lucian wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Not this. Not Peregrine lying in a heap on the floor with blood trickling out of his mouth. “Perry!” Lucian yelled, rushing to his friends side. What had done this? Was it poison? Was it the potion he’d seen Peregrine take? If it was then what had been in that vial? And why had Peregrine taken it?

Lucian checked Peregrine’s pulse relieved to find it there even if it was faint. He rolled him onto his side with his hand tucked under his head, afraid that he’d choke on all that blood that was coming out of his mouth. “I’m gonna go get help mate.” Lucian told the unconscious boy not sure if he could even hear him, he rooted through Peregrine’s pockets finding the half consumed vial of what looked like purple gunk. “It’s gonna be ok.”

He stood quickly. Thinking of the two people he could ask for help. Madame Pomfrey would be desirable but she was likely all the way on the fourth floor, he honestly wasn’t sure if Peregrine would last that long. That left Snape who with any luck was in his office. Lucian hoped he hadn’t decided to go down to the Quidditch Pitch to watch Slytherin practice.

Snape’s office wasn’t far from the Slytherin Common Room. Lucian rushed down the corridor towards it and knocked frantically at the door. “Professor Snape! Professor Snape!” He yelled hoping his Head of House was inside and would answer the door quickly.

The door opened abruptly, Snape glaring down at Lucian. “I assume you have a good reason for interrupting me with such racket Mr Bole.” He sneered.

“Sir! It’s Peregrine.” He stopped himself at the look of confusion on Snape’s face of course he wouldn’t know who Peregrine was, not by that name. “Derrick sir. He. She took something,” he held the potions vial up to Snape who took it with an unreadable expression, “she’s lying on the floor. There’s blood coming out her mouth ”

Upon hearing this Snape jumped into action. He uncorked the vial and sniffed if quickly. His eyes widening as he span around darting back into his office. With a wave of his wand the cupboard by the door opened and he grabbed a few potions.

“Where is Derrick?”

“She’s in her dormitory sir,” Lucian replied. Snape nodded, his grim expression not changing.

“Go get Madame Pomfrey. Quickly.” He ordered before taking off at a run towards the Slytherin Common Room. Not checking to see is Lucian obeyed, he knew he would. His office door swing shut and the lock clicked automatically.

Snape found Peregrine where Lucian had left him. “Stupid child.” Snape chided even though he knew Peregrine would be unable to hear him. He knelt down, banishing the blood from his mouth and checked his breathing. It was far to shallow for Snape’s liking.

He forced the boys mouth open, casting lumos so he could look into the boy’s mouth, finding no obvious sign of blockage. “What made you think it was a good idea to brew your own Transtional Potion?” He growled.

Dragging his wand over Peregrine’s chest he cast a diagnostic spell. The crease between his eyebrows deepened at the results.

“Respirare evidenter.” Snape barked dragging his wand over the boy’s chest. His body twitched as the spell shot through him. “Respirare evidenter.” Snape repeated the spell once more, Peregrine convulsed, blood spurting out of his mouth all over the both of them.

Snape recast the diagnostic spell, satisfied when he found his lungs empty of blood. His breathing still wasn’t quite normal but it was better than before.

“These things take time. And expensive ingredients. Shortcuts cannot be made.” Snape explained, more for his sake than that of the unconscious boy before him. “You should have come to me, or to Pomfrey. Any of the adults at this school would have been a better choice than consuming a bootleg potion.”

He grabbed a blood red potion from his pocket and uncorked it quickly pouring the potion into his mouth before pushing his jaw closed and holding his nose which forced him to swallow. “Blood replenisher for now. Until we can figure out where all that blood is coming from.” Snape told him, noticing how Peregrine regained a little colour as the potion worked its magic.

Snape checked Peregrine’s pulse finding his heart beating erratically. Quite possibly from the spell Snape had used to get the boy breathing. He grabbed another potion from his robes and forced it down his throat to keep his heart going. As Snape dragged his wand over the boy casting diagnostic spell after diagnostic spell, his concern deepened with each.

Peregrine’s internal organs were almost shutting down. Snape pulled every potion he had out of his pockets shoving them down his throat in an attempt to preserve the function of his organs. “Don’t you dare Derrick.” Snape growled as he felt the boy’s life force waver.

His lungs were again filling up with blood so Snape cast another respirare evidenter and forced another blood replenisher down his throat. He looked over his remaining potions he only had two more blood replenishers left and at the rate the boys lungs kept refilling with blood he feared he would run out before Pomfrey could get anywhere near here. But he couldn’t risk moving him, not until he was stabilised.

The spells required to stabilise him only Pomfrey had the skill to cast. It was all Snape could do to keep his student alive until she got here. “Come on Derrick fight,” Snape snarled, his diagnostic spell telling him the boys liver was failing despite the potions meant to keep it functioning.

Snape grabbed an antidote for uncommon poisons and poured it into Peregrine’s mouth. Until he had time to analyse the substance the boy had drank he wouldn’t be able to know for sure if the antidote would suffice, it was likely Snape would have to reverse engineer an antidote from what was left of the purple substance in the vial.

The antidote helped a little, clearing just enough of the poison to keep Peregrine’s liver working for now. But now his lungs were once again filling up with blood. Snape raised his wand prepared repeat his tactic of a respirare evidenter followed by a blood replenisher.

Peregrine gasped, coughing his eyelids flickering. Never in his life had he been in so much pain. He couldn’t breath, his lungs felt wrong. He couldn’t move

“Respirare evidenter!” A familiar deep voice met his ears, a jolt shot through his chest that made his mouth fall open in pain. He would have screamed but instead bloods just spluttered out. Was that a spell? Peregrine tried to open his eyes but they felt so heavy. Everything felt so heavy. But he could breathe now, he gasped pulling the air into his oxygen deprived body eagerly.

“Derrick? Can you hear me?” There was that voice again, something cool was placed against his lips. “Drink this.” Came the order. Peregrine swallowed the awful liquid that was poured into his mouth his body instantly feeling less heavy.

He managed to pull his eyes open looking up into the face of Professor Snape. The man bore an expression of unhidden concern on his usually difficult to read face. His robes seemed to be covered in a sticky substance, the small amount of white cloth poking though his mostly black robes was stained red. Blood, Peregrine’s blood, he realised squirming in disgust. It was then he noticed he was laying across his Head of House’s lap.

He tried to move away but Snape held him still. “Don’t move.” Snape hissed, dragging his wand over his torso and muttering a series of spells. Peregrine gasped as a burning sensation coursed through him.

“Why would you consume a substance like this?” Snape scolded. “Utterly reckless behaviour, I’d expect it from a Gryffindor but not one of my own snakes.”

“S….Sir?” Peregrine croaked only to dissolve into a coughing fit that seared with pain. He was half aware of being rolled over onto his side, a hand thumping against his back.

“As much as I’m eager to hear an explanation for your erroneous behaviour, it would be best if you didn’t try to speak just yet.” Snape advised, turning Peregrine back towards him once the coughs had subsided. Peregrine nodded, even that movement causing a dizzying wave of pain, he closed his eyes in an attempt to block it out.

“Stay awake if you can Derrick.” Snape chided, already moving his wand over his torso, monitoring his organs. Peregrine forced his eyes open, looking down to see what Snape was doing, above his torso was a mass of lights, symbols he didn’t understand. Most of them were flashing red, one of them turned black and Snape swore. If Peregrine hadn’t been nearly delirious from pain he would have been amazed to hear his Potions Professor say such a word. Instead he only watched in horror as more of the symbols turned black one after the other like Christmas lights extinguishing. He felt his energy wavering, his head fell back and a sudden calm passed over him.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not giving up on me that easily.” Snape’s voice was oddly far away, the pain he was in was already fading. A glass vial was held against Pergrine’s lips, Snape’s thumb pushing his mouth open before forcing the tasteless concoction down his throat. Peregrine nearly choked on it but somehow managed to swallow. The effect was instantaneous, the agony flooding back to him and the calm vanishing completely. He groaned, half curling up into a ball his hands moving to his gut.

When he opened his eyes he noticed the black symbols had turned purple and were flashing red slower than they had before. Snape sighed in what could only be relief. “You’re not getting out of turning in your Potions homework that easily.” Snape said harshly. Peregrine looked up at him, wondering if he was really thinking about homework at a time like this. Their eyes met for a brief second and Snape offered the briefest of smiles.

Peregrine laughed, or at least tried to. It was getting increasingly difficult to breath and all that escaped him as a strangled gasp. Snape frowned, seriousness returning to his features as he muttered spells, his wand swishing over Peregrine’s chest. “You’re lungs are filling up with blood again.” Snape told him, his voice tight. He pointed his wand downwards and Peregrine closed his eyes in anticipation of the painful shock that would ensue. “Respirare evidenter.” Snape snarled, the spell shooting out of his wand.

Peregrine let out a gurgled cry that was more of a wheeze. Snape had to repeat the spell three more times before blood spurted out of his mouth. Peregrine coughed, his limbs feeling so weak he could barely even think about moving. His vision blurred. He just wanted to allow himself to fall into the darkness where the pain wasn’t so bad. “Stay awake Derrick.” Snape warned as he poured a potion down his throat. Peregrine tried, he really did but his mind seemed to pull him away from consciousness. His head flopped back as he passed out.

Snape wasn’t all that surprised to see the boy pass out again. He was sure the pain alone would make even the hardiest of witch or wizard unable to remain conscious for a long period of time. That thought did little to comfort him as he worked on monitoring Peregrine’s internal organs. He hoped Pomfrey would get here soon, for if the boy’s lungs filled with blood again, and he was sure they would, he had no more blood replenisher to give him after clearing it. The human body could only stand to lose so much blood and Snape was sure Peregrine had already choked up more than that amount over Snape’s robes.

He took a moment to take another stock of the potions he had remaining, his mouth going dry when he saw what little he had left. He didn’t dare leave the student to get more, fearing he’d return to find a dead child that had drowned in his own blood.

He heard brisk footsteps and raised his head. “Poppy?” He called out, hoping it was her.

“I’m here Severus.” Pomfrey burst into the room, her wand already in her hand and a pouch of what Snape hoped was more potions under her arm. She instantly knelt by Snape casting her own diagnostic spells.

“Their organs are failing,” Snape told her quickly, “I’ve been using rejuvenating potions to keep them going, that seems to be working for now. More worryingly the lungs are constantly filling with blood, I was unable to find the source so have been using respirare evidenter to clear it followed by a blood replenisher. I’ve given four now and have no more. They’ve nearly given up on me twice now.” Snape’s voice came out evenly despite the worried look in his eyes.

Pomfrey nodded not looking up at him as she ran her diagnostic. “You gave her an antidote for the poison in her liver?” She asked, reading the more complicated symbols than what Snape had been able to produce.

“Yes, an antidote for uncommon poisons. I’ll need time to brew a more specific antidote. I have the substance.”

“Good.” Pomfrey, frowned, waving her wand and murmuring spells. The symbols moved around, spinning around the child’s body in a bright white light.  

“Is… Is Perry going to be alright?” Snape hadn’t noticed Lucian by the door. He looked over at the boy.

“Yes. Yes she will.” Pomfrey answered firmly not even looking up from her work.

“Perhaps you should wait in the Common Room Mr Bole.” Snape suggested smoothly, he gave the boy a look that left no room for argument it would be better that the boy wasn’t here while his friend was patched up. “If any of the occupants for this dorm return inform them they are to stay away until we can move Derrick.”

“Yes sir.” Lucian nodded, his eyes flicking over towards Peregrine before he backed away. Snape watched him leave, making a mental note to talk to him later.

“I may need another wand here Severus. I’m going to stabilise her lungs but I’ll need you ready with respirare evidenter.” Pomfrey said after a moment, the lights emitted from her wand faded.

Snape nodded, raising his wand and pointing it at Peregrine’s chest. Pomfrey began chanting a spell moving her wand in a complicated pattern. Peregrine twitched a wheezing sound escaping him as blood trickled from his mouth. Snape cast a respirare evidenter, clearing the lungs of blood so Pomfrey could continue her spell.

The two worked on Peregrine for half an hour. Snape ready to administer potions or simple healing spells while Pomfrey repaired or stabilised the boy’s organs. It was tiresome work and Snape felt drained at the end of it.

“She’ll be alright if move her to the infirmary now.” Pomfrey said. “I can take it from here but she’ll need that antidote.” She looked over at Snape who conjured a stretcher and levitated Peregrine onto it.

“I’ll get started on it immediately.” He stated calmly, doing his best to conceal his exhaustion.

“You should rest first Severus. Eat something at least.” Pomfrey advised, placing a hand on his arm. “Miss Derrick will be fine in my care for the time being.”

“Hm.” Was all Snape said in reply. He looked down at his bloodstained robes, vanishing the disgusting fluid with a quick scourgify. “I will bring the potion to the Hospital Wing post haste.” He assured her taking off before she could argue with him.

As he entered the common room he was aware of many eyes being turned towards him. Lucian who looked like he’d bee crying stood quickly, Snape’s eyes swept over the crowd. “Professor Snape… Is…Is…” Lucian wrung his hands nervously.

“Derrick has been stabilised and Madame Pomfrey will move them to the Hospital Wing.” Snape said loud enough for everyone to hear. He knew they all had the same question. The students in the common room seemed to all release a collective breath.

Pomfrey came through the doors, levitating the stretcher that carried Peregrine behindher. She said nothing as she rushed him out of the Common Room. The Slytherins watched him go, with varying levels of concern. 

“Will she be able to play sir?” Marcus asked from across the room, he sat with the rest of the Quidditch team who were all looking at Snape with looks of worry. “The match against Gryffindor is coming up.”

“Not for a while I would assume Flint, it would be advisable to find a replacement seeker for the time being.” Snape answered more calmly than he felt. He turned to Lucian ignoring the looks the team were sharing. “Follow me Mr Bole.” He barked towards Lucian, he wanted to talk to the boy, find out what he knew before starting the tedious process of dissecting the potion and finding a cure, it might give him a clue as to where to start.

Peregrine groaned, his insides felt like they’d been scraped out of his body and stirred into some kind of goo before being unceremoniously shoved back into him. Whenever he breathed inward his lungs ached and that was nothing compared to what exhaling felt like.

He was in a bright room, that much he could figure out. The light shone through his eyelids. He could hear someone talking but couldn’t quite make out the words. Another voice answered this one deeper than the first. He groaned again, louder this time. He wished his head didn’t throb quite so painfully.

Slowly he forced his eyes open, turning his face away from the bright light. He was lying in a bed with a curtain pulled around it. The Hospital Wing? Slowly he pushed himself up, his muscles felt weak. What had happened?

The events of that morning came back to him. He gasped remembering the potion, the pain, the blood. He sat bolt upright, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Looking down he could see he was dressed in the striped pyjamas the Hospital Wing always provided to students staying there.

The curtain snapped back before he could try to stand. He looked up into the displeased face of Snape. Madame Pomfrey poked her head around him. “You shouldn’t be up Miss Derrick.” She scolded pushing past Snape. “Or do you prefer Mr?” She asked nudging him back into bed.

Peregrine’s heart dropped but he didn’t resist the mediwitch and sat back against the pillows. His eyes glanced between her and Snape. He felt sick and his mouth was incredibly dry, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be having this conversation right now, he wasn’t ready. Pomfrey seemed to sense this as she just handed him a glass of water which he downed gratefully.

“If Derrick is well enough I feel a conversation is in order.” Snape said silkily. Pomfrey looked over at him and nodded.

“Try not to upset my patient too much.” She warned, Snape nodded courteously and with that Pomfrey left Peregrine alone with his Head of House. Peregrine looked down at his empty glass, spinning it in his hands nervously.

He heard a long sigh from Snape which brought his attention to him. Snape waved his wand, summoning a chair over to the bed and sat down, his eyes not leaving Peregrine for a second. “Well?” He asked smoothly. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He asked.

“What do you mean sir?” Peregrine dared ask, wishing he could be anywhere but here. Except he supposed if he wasn’t here then he’d be dead. He wasn’t stupid, he’d figure when he’d woken up on Snape’s lap unable to breathe and in that much pain he was in trouble, he just hadn’t guessed he’d be in trouble with Snape as well. Snape held up an empty vial, from it’s unusual shape Peregrine recognised it as the vial that once held his potion.

“You consumed an incredibly deadly substance, it very near killed you.” Snape told him. Peregrine flinched, to hear it put like that it really did seem like a dumb thing to do.

“I didn’t think it’d do that sir.” He admitted, hoping that Snape wouldn’t be too hard on him. Snape only scowled at him.

“Ah of course.” Snape placed the empty vial on the bedside table. “Tell me, what did you think would happen upon using such a potion?” Peregrine flushed and shook his head, he really didn’t want to tell Snape. He heard the man sigh again.

“Derrick.” Snape sounded tired, when Peregrine risked a look at him he thought he looked tired as well. “I am a Potions Master am I not? I know what sort of potion it was meant to be.” Peregrine gulped, that’s what he’d been afraid of, he hung his head in defeat.

“Then I don’t see why I need to tell you why I took it sir.” He spoke softly, his voice cracking. “Seeing as you already seem to know.”

“A Transitional Potion is a very tricky potion to brew” Snape matched Peregrine’s soft tone. “One that has to be personalised to the individual, it also requires a very specific set of ingredients each harvested and stored in unique ways and put together in a way that suits the drinker’s transitioning needs.”

“This potion,” he nodded towards the empty vial, his lip curling up in disgust, “Although having the basic properties of a Transitional Potion had none of the personalisation and I doubt any of the ingredients had been harvested correctly not to mention the substituting of fungia repanda for algae of all things and that’s just the first of many ill advised substitutions made to that mess of a concoction.”  

“I didn’t brew it.” Peregrine said quickly, feeling as if he’d submitted a sub standard potion in potions class and was about to receive the grade of T for troll.  

“Indeed.” Snape sniffed, leaning forwards in the chair to give him a piercing look. “So who did?” Peregrine gulped, wondering if he should tell them. He owed the Ravenclaw little after all since he’d nearly killed him.

“It was Bexley sir.” Peregrine mumbled, he wondered if there was any chance of getting his galleons back, probably not.

“Ethan Bexley from Ravenclaw?” Snape asked icily. Peregrine nodded quickly.

“Yeah, I don’t think he brewed it either though sir. He said he had a contact outside Hogwarts.”

“A bootlegger no doubt.” Snape snarled, his anger seeping into his demeanour. “You were present were you not last year when I explained the dangers of bootleg potions in the Common Room?”

“I was sir.” Peregrine said, his eyes burning with tears. “I was desperate I’m sorry.”

“Then you should have spoken to me. Or Madame Pomfrey.” Snape scolded, Peregrine frowned looking up at Snape I confusion. “I don’t know exactly how you identify Derrick, but as your Head of House I am responsible for your well-being, as Matron of the school Madame Pomfrey is as well it is our responsibility to help you .”

“I thought… I thought…” Peregrine shook his head, angrily wiping his tears away.

“What exactly did you think?” Snape asked quietly. Peregrine wasn’t fooled by his soft tone, he knew his teacher was still angry and could explode at any moment. He hated this, he hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. He just wanted to be allowed to be himself like all the other boys seemed to be.

“I thought is would fix everything!” Peregrine shouted, his frustration getting the better of him. “If the potion had worked I could just say I’m a boy. My parents might take me back and I could move into the boy’s dormitories, you wouldn’t be allowed to say no.”

“Control your volume Derrick.” Snape snarled. That was it for Peregrine, he brought his knees to his chest and cried. He wished he potion had just worked, but if what Snape had said about it was true he doubted he’d ever be able to brew it or even find someone with the skill who would willingly brew it for him.

He waited for Snape to shout at him, surprised when a white handkerchief was placed in his hand. “Calm yourself Mr Derrick.” Snape murmured, Peregrine looked up at the use of the honorific a strange burst of exhilaration at it being used to address him. “Had you explained the situation I would not have denied your request to move to the boy’s dormitories. In fact if that is what you wish it can be arranged.”

“Really?” He asked, not daring to hope. Snape rolled his eyes.

“Of course.” He stated. “Although if you would rather take your time with the move that too is understandable. You’ll be spending the next couple of weeks here at least I should think, so you have plenty of time to decide. Tell me, what did you mean by you parents taking you back?” Peregrine shrugged at this.

“I… It’s nothing sir.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Peregrine sighed, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to just tell him. “I came out to them over the summer sir. They said they didn’t want a… Someone like me under their roof and threw me out.”

“They what?” Snape growled, Peregrine looked up at him fearfully. “Then where pray tell, did you spend the rest of your summer.” Snape took a deep breathe, if the boy had spent his summer on the streets then there would be hell to pay.

“At Lucian’s sir.” Peregrine said quickly. “Lucian knows about… Well he knows. His parents let me stay in the spare room.” Snape let out a relieved sigh. “I don’t think they’ll like it if I go back there next summer though.”

“Alternative accommodation will be found for you.” Snape assured him, his eyes glittering dangerously. Peregrine’s eyes widened he hadn’t expected that.

“Wait really sir?”

“Yes Mr Derrick, really.” Snape said tiredly, ignoring the way the boy’s face lit up. He checked the time surreptitiously, he wanted to speak to Flitwick and get to the bottom of Ethan Bexley’s potions business and he wanted to do so before dinner. “In the future Derrick I hope that you will come to me or another adult with any issues you may have.”

“I… Yes sir I will.” Peregrine mumbled, looking down. Snape raised an eyebrow knowing that the boy had something else he wanted to say. “I… The potion sir. Would I be able to find someone to brew a legitimate one?” Snape scoffed at this.

“If you wish I suppose I can brew it for you.” Snape held up a finger before Peregrine could reply. “However I will be providing you with proper information about it and I will want you to think long and hard whether this is what you want. The transreversal potion is a tricky thing to brew with many of the same dangers as the transitional potion and I would rather not be brewing the both of them constantly, not to mention the issues it could pose to your health. Taking too many potions that cause such drastic, permanent changes can be draining on a young body.”

Peregrine nodded eagerly. He couldn’t believe his luck, he hadn’t thought Snape would react like this, he’d thought Snape would be dismissive telling him to stop being such a dunderhead and leave him alone. For Snape to not only accept him but to offer to brew the potion he needed was far more than he could have ever hoped for. He now felt incredibly foolish for taking that potion. But he hadn’t known, the Hogwarts library wasn’t exactly the best place to go for information about it and he’d only found books that mentioned it offhandedly.

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?” Snape asked.

“No… I…” Peregrine trailed off. “The name plaque, outside my dorm. Can it be changed?”

“Yes it can.” Snape sighed. “You have a name in mind?”

“Peregrine.” Peregrine said very quickly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Peregrine Derrick?” He droned, pulling out his wand. 

“Yes sir.” Peregrine nodded. “Could it be changed now?” it was already what most of the Quidditch team called him. Snape waved his wand muttering something under his breath.

“It is done.” He said, sliding his wand back into his sleeve. Peregrine wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed and rush down to the dungeons to see but he stayed put.

“If that’s all Mr Derrick, I have some business to attend to.” Snape said, rising from the chair deliberately.

“Yes sir.” Peregrine nodded, Snape turned to leave pausing when Peregrine called after him. “Thank you sir, for everything.” Snape smiled very slightly, turning his head away so the boy wouldn’t see.

“Of course.” He said simply before sweeping out of the Hospital Wing. His robes billowing behind him.

((A//N: Canonically Peregrine Derrick is a beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team but with a name like Peregrine I just felt he needed to be a seeker so in my world he is a seeker.))

Against the Odds - Part 3 [James Potter x reader]

Prompt: College AU ❃ Jocks are disgusting. Too good looking, too aware of it, too drunk and too dumb. Or so you thought. This is the third part for @marvelcapsicle‘s writing challenge.

A/n:  Since tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags anymore, you can find previous parts on my masterlist, linked in my bio.   If you need to zoom in on the texts just click on the picture to do so. GIF is not mine.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, fluff and a curly devil that will hunt your dreams

Word count: 3.2k

Part 3 - You up?

Thursday:

Half past nine in the evening, you had just typed the last word of your essay for English class and had clicked on the save-symbol when Louise entered your room, along with her boyfriend Mike. He was a frat guy. Jockish as hell. Maybe one of the reasons you hadn’t liked those type of guys.

You weren't sure why they had decided to come to your and Louise’s room – it was certainly too small to miss anything the other person said or did and Louise had told you countless times how lucky Mike was to have a room for himself at the frat. 

Anyway, you weren't going to ask them because they had decided to watch a movie on Louise's laptop and after arguing for twenty minutes, had finally picked something out. 

You were on your phone, texting with Remus, who had just started telling you things about his personal life and that he would go to the cinema with Sirius in a bit when you suddenly heard suspicious huffing from across the room. You turned over and caught Louise and Mike kissing. Vigorously. Not only that, but things were moving underneath their blanket and it didn't look like they were folding their hands to pray.

“Guys,” you said. “You know I can hear and see you from here.”

No answer. They just ignored you.

“Louise! What the fuck are you doing?”

She tore herself away from her boyfriend and took a breath before answering: “Sorry, Y/N. But you must know, I've just gotten off my period and we haven't-”

“Oh my god. Shut up, please. You can't be serious. Why don't you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, her mouth was on his again and now it seemed that she was climbing onto him.

“Hello?”

They ignored you again and now you heard something unzipping.

“That's it,” you said as you got up. “I'm leaving. And fuck you both. Or don't. Whatever.”

You rushed out the room and stood in the hallway, already typing a text to Remus, trying to ask him if he could help you out. Wait. He was going out with Sirius. So that wasn't an option. Shit. You walked over to the common room and sat down on one of the mouldy couches. Looking across the area you stared at the microwave for a minute, contemplating if sleeping here was the only alternative you had. Oh please no. It was gross and cold and people would notice. There was someone else you knew. Not that you preferred that. But it was worth a try, wasn't it?

So, yeah. Awkward.  

Oh god. Stupid. No one would believe that. Was there a way to unsend texts?

Okay, okay. Okay! Keep calm. You took a deep breath, smelling even more of the gunk that had built up on the kitchen counter, and stood up. Everything was better than spending the night between the remnants of pizza and hot pockets. You caught yourself walking in circles and finally brought up the courage to leave the dorm.

It was chilly outside, but you enjoyed the cool breeze as you stood on the pavement and pressed the front of your shoe into the concrete until it hurt. A car turned up on the far end of the street. Blinding headlights came closer with the engine revving until it slowed down and stopped right in front of you. A black and sleek Audi whatever-model. Rich parents – what else had you expected?

Last chance to run back in. He could still be a serial killer, right? But he had brought you a sandwich yesterday. Were you really just using food as refutation?  

The window rolled down and James' curly head poked out. “You coming?”

Well, curly hair and a sub would do as refutation for tonight.

You got in, closed the door and belted up before you finally looked over.

“Hi,” you said hesitantly.

“Hey. So... Drama at the dorm?”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry. That I asked you for this, you know.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I was at the bar and wanted to go home anyway. Actually, I'm glad you did.”

He put in the gear, started driving and looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. There was a tiny smile on his lips that could only make you guess what he was thinking before you put your eyes on the road.

“So um... Who’s your roommate then? Do I know her boyfriend?” James asked after a while.

“Her name’s Louise. Her boyfriend is Mike. Mike um, Broogler or something? A frat guy, I’m sure you know him.”

“Brockler, yeah I know him. A frat guy, huh?” he grinned.

“He is a guy and part of the fraternity. Frat guy.”

“The way you say it makes it sound like that’s something bad.”

He was obviously joking, the tone of his voice still light and cheery, but there could have been a bit of truth behind his words.

“I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry if I hurt your feelings,” you said. “Frat guy.”

He chuckled as he backed into a parking space in front of the fraternity. “Frat guy is saving your ass tonight, so a bit more respect please.”

“Sorry mister frat guy, sir. I apologize.”

You followed James into the house, which had all the lights off and was empty, contrary to your prior beliefs.

“Boys are all out at the bar. Except for Mike,” he quipped.

The house looked completely different than it had when you were at the party. Classy and strict, a lot of old dark wood embellished the floors and furniture.  You peeked into the living room and it was actually quite cosy without the beer pong table and blaring music.

James walked up to the wide staircase on the end of the hallway and turned around. “Rooms are upstairs.”

“Uh yeah, I figured.”

So there it was. The moment you had to tell him that you hadn’t intended the same thing he maybe had thought of. There was a nasty lump in your throat. How should you bring it up? Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about it and you would just burst in with the unasked-for info that you didn’t want to sleep with him tonight.

“Hey um,” James began. “Just so you know, I won’t try anything. I can sleep in the living room if you want.”

God bless.  

“Thanks,” you said and felt a wave of heat on your cheeks. Where has your confidence gone? Get a grip.  

“Okay, let me show you my room then,” James said and offered his hand.

He led you up to the first floor that had doors to the bedrooms all around. They all had the initials of their names on the doors. His one was the third in line. JP in gold with a little lightning bolt next to it.

You pointed at it and asked: “What does that stand for?”

“I’m fast,” he said and smiled smugly. “Everyone in the team gets a nickname.”

“And yours is Bolt?” you asked as he opened the door.

“Flash,” he winked. “Excuse the mess.”

James went to pick up a bunch of dirty clothes from the floor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“No big deal, it’s not so bad.”

It really wasn’t so bad. The room was probably the same size as your shared one was, but with a private bathroom. The dream. His bed stood in the corner of the room - white sheets, very chic. On the opposite side was a sideboard with a medium sized TV on it, next to it was the door to the bathroom. His desk stood right by the window, a wardrobe to its left, a small fridge to its right. He’d hung lots of little photos of him and his friends and football fan articles on the walls. It was a bit messy, but it had character.

“Your room is really nice,” you said as you walked around and looked at the pictures.

“Thanks! Make yourself at home. I’m just putting the clothes away and I’m gonna take a shower real quick, I still smell like bar.”

“Sure.”

He closed the door to the bathroom behind himself and left you alone in his room. High level of trust. As you heard him turn on the water you walked over to the other side slowly, letting your fingers run over the sheets of the bed when you went by.

On the sideboard with the TV was his football helmet, freshly cleaned and shiny as a new penny. You noticed a small ball lying right beside it. The one he had gotten at the blood drive yesterday. It still had dents from his fingernails all over it. Looked like he had been more nervous than you’d thought. You smiled and dug your own finger into it, leaving one additional notch, before trying to switch on the TV. It would be nice to have some background sounds and avoid awkward silence later, but the remote was nowhere to be seen.

After looking at the sideboard, his desk and bed you went for the nightstand. Intrusive? Probably, but maybe it was in there.

You sat down on the bed and opened the drawer. No remote. But some other things. A small notebook and a nibbled off pen, as well as a framed picture of two people. They looked like husband and wife - both had grey hair, were probably in their seventies and smiled kindly into the camera. His grandparents? Well, since it was in there and not on the wall, he probably didn't want to talk about it.

You closed the drawer and swung your legs up onto the bed. Sitting, waiting, wishing. Wishing for confidence and poise and that your palms wouldn't start sweating every time James looked at you. Right now it felt like his whole room was staring you down. Like it was eating you up. But not in a bad way, it was a welcoming feeling to sit there and gaze over the bits and bobs of his belongings.

When you noticed that the water had stopped running you took out your phone to try and look like you hadn't been spying. A few moments later James returned in a plain white shirt and grey sweatpants. Quite the look on him admittedly. His hair was still wet, some drops of water running down the side of his face to his jawline and even further down to his chin. God damn, you couldn't take your eyes off him. He must have done this on purpose.

“You good here?” he asked as he ran his hand through the wet mess on his head.

“Uh-huh, I am. Was trying to find the remote, but didn't.”

“Oh um. I think I know where it is,” James said and threw himself onto the bed, half lying, half crawling and stuck his arm under the pillow. “There we go.”

He turned on the TV and switched channels for a while until he stopped on the news. The news?! You both sat in silence pretending to be interested in whatever the reporter was talking about. Note to self: There can be awkward silence even if you have background sound.

Trying to think of something to say turned out to be harder than you'd thought. What do you talk about with a guy that had taken you home because you had asked him to, while he lay next to you, smelling like a pinewood full of sunshine and fairies? The fact that there was an inch of skin showing between his shirt and pants wasn’t helping either.

“So-” - “Do you-”

After minutes of silence, you had both decided to start talking in the same second. Both of you laughed at your mutual awkwardness and James sat up straight.

“Sorry, what did you want to say?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” you admitted. “I was just... I don't know. Go on, please.”

He grinned like he was glad that you were more nervous than him. Looked like it gave him a confidence boost. As if he needed one.

“I wanted to say that I can give you clothes to sleep in. You didn’t bring anything in your handbag, did you?”

“No, I didn't really have time to pack when I was running from the fucking in my room. But it's fine, you don't -”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You don't want to sleep in jeans. No one wants that.”

“Yeah, I guess I don't.”

He crawled off from the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. “I'm afraid I don't have anything sexy,” he joked. “But a frat shirt will do I think.”

He laid it down next to you before sitting on the bed again.

“Thanks, James. I'm gonna go change in the bathroom.”

“Sure. I put out a toothbrush too if you want to brush your teeth.”

What a mom.

The bathroom was small but still better than one on the hallway. You took off your clothes and put on the shirt James had given you. It looked huge on you. Dark red with the fraternity name Kappa Delta Rho on it, it reached almost down to your knees, like a really unflattering dress. It was soft and smelled nice though. Not like pine wood and fairies, but sweeter. Clean, fresh cotton with a hint of washed out cologne. 

The toothbrush he had been talking about laid next to the sink, still unpacked and new. Did a stock of dental hygiene products mean he had people here often?

After you were done in the bathroom you went back to James' room, where he was lying on his bed again, watching TV with one hand behind his head, the other one tucked into his waistband. This time, it seemed he couldn’t take his eyes off you. A dumbfounded expression on his face as you walked towards him and the way he eyed you up and down made you instantly feel better about yourself. There was your confidence boost and you had very much needed it.

He cleared his throat when you sat down on the bed. “Well. If you want to sleep now I can go downstairs and -”

“No,” you interrupted him, maybe a bit too eagerly.

“Sorry?”

“I… I think you can stay. If you want. I mean, it’s your room. That wouldn’t be fair, to invite myself over and send you down to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” He looked more confused now, his hand wandered to the back of his neck. “I mean yeah. I’m glad to stay if you want that.”

You smiled, lifted the blanket to crawl underneath it and lay down sideways to face him. “I think that’s what I want, yes.”

He got under the blanket as well and said: “We can watch a movie if you want.”

Half an hour into “Baby Driver”, you had caught James looking at you twice. But the only reason you caught him was that you had looked over as well. It was absurd really, how every move he made got your heart rate up to 180. Every time he breathed in deeply or stretched out his legs you thought he would reach over and hold your hand. And suddenly, after checking his phone, he did. You were so focused on coming off relaxed that you didn’t even grip it back. It must have felt like you were dead until you remembered that you weren’t. You held his palm tighter and felt his thumb running over the side of your index finger, which made your stomach tingle.

“James?” you asked.

“Yes?”

“You’re really nice. I mean really,” you said even though you didn’t know where those words were coming from. “You know at first I thought you were just this guy, screaming with a beer keg on his shoulder. And I thought you were cocky, which… You are when I think about it.”

He laughed lowly. “That started as a compliment and ended as an insult.”

“I know, sorry” you bantered. “But you’ve been a real gentleman, very sweet and respectful and I didn’t expect that. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, wearing a smile that showed he was really full of himself right then, but that didn’t matter because his face neared yours now.

A kiss so sweet, it would have literally swept you off your feet if you hadn’t been lying down already. His lips, soft and mellow, skimmed over your own and it felt like listening to music; easy and pleasant as you found your rhythm and moved to the imaginary beat. His damp hair tickled your forehead until a simple peck brought your song to an end and a foolish grin seemed to refine it.

“How does it feel?” he asked after some seconds of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Being in a frat, wearing a frat-shirt, kissing a frat guy in his frat-bed?”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed pushed him off by his shoulder.

He countered and started tickling you, to which you started screaming, turned around and kicked his legs.

“Whoa, easy Rambo,” James chortled and held you tight.

“No mercy for a tickler,” you answered and let your hand rest on his arm. “You’re a fool, James. I like you.”

The next time you opened your eyes was when a ray of sunshine beamed right into your face. You tried to shift but couldn’t until you noticed that James’ arm was still around your waist and held onto you even in his sleep. His breaths were slow and deep, his skin soft on yours and you could have easily spent the rest of your day in this position.

That was until you took your phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 9:17! Shit. You had forgotten to set an alarm last night and your first class started at 10. You had to leave right now, or you wouldn’t make it on time. So you shuffled away from his grip, got up, put your clothes on and went out the door.

While on your way to the dorm you took the time to shoot James a message:

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   GUNK UNDER UNKEMPT NAILS sticks out between fingerless gloves, an elbow idly resting on his knee. With his head drooping forward & a straw hat casting bold shadows it's hard to make out more than just a pointy chin, but security guards wouldn't care too much : to them it's just another beggar. And the rule has it that vagrancy isn't permitted in the hallways. He might disrupt the flow, bother commuting citizens with the stench his ragged baggage emits. Two baggy sacks rest against the wall beside him, each covered in a variety of stains.

" Sir. What you're doing isn't allowed in the premises. Come with me, please."

     The first admonishment is nearly mellow. It doesn’t even earn a budge. “ Sir. You’re going to have to come with me. ” He repeats under a huff. This time there’s a twitch of the man’s pinkie. His filthy shoes slide quietly against equally crummy subway floors. " I said get up,  you're in the way. " A tremble in his voice betrays his impatience. It’s late. The hallways buzzing white lights are giving him a headache.   

     Disheveled digits curl languidly into a fist. The man’s other hand slowly comes to press against its twin, both palms clenched. He begins to rotate one as if he’s wiring up a jack-in-the-box. With perfect timing, the middle finger of one hand rises as if it were a wind up toy. A disgruntled growl escapes the guard. “ Okay, that’s it ! ”

     His hand abducts a bare wrist, pale skin lathered in sweat & filth, in desperate need of a good scrub to reveal its true color. A mere move is made to grab one of the sacks, but the guard's pull disrupts his balance, forcing him to leave his precious belongings behind. Tenacious grip reaches for the beggar’s jacket. It’s not hard to spin the grimy man around, despite his height. As he does so, forcefully dragging him along towards the nearest exit, the guard thinks he heard a high-pitched snicker. It’s disregarded as yet another antic of a diseased mind.

     Frustration is evident in a windy stride. The beggar’s heels slide noisily against the floor, kicking back with each forced step. Soon, dull grey escalators appear in the distance. They roll slowly, separated with a strip of plain staircase. The guard almost sighs in relief, eager to get rid of that pervasive mix of garbage and rotting carcass that is bound to stain his hand. “ Fuck’s sake tonight. ” He mutters under his breath. They stand at the escalator’s edge. Free hand jerks to grab the man’s forearm, aiming to shove him forward and onto the stairs...

    And then, a sudden spin on heel, accompanied by a thundering yelp. Time freezes in a still of the guard's gaping mouth dripping a thick lump of white drool, his stance hunching closer to the glistening leer that stands opposite him. Proximity is laced in tender violence, that soft realization of a man facing the one who claimed his life. Switchblade twists noisily in his stomach, harvesting warm crimson that drips on the floor, orchestrating a morbid rhythm.

    Pearly grin seems to permeate everything in his blurry vision field; the lights blink, his eyelids droop. Breath hitches as the sharp sting of sharp blade being pulled back out of freshly ripped skin numbs. In perfect timing with a second blow, the realization sinks in as metal does in juicy viscera; he recognizes the mangled face staring down at him as weak knees give in. Ginger brows rise in a gleeful peal of manic laughter.

     Underneath the straw hat’s shadows, Jerome Valeska’s abhorrent mouth spills mirth over a croaky swansong. The man instinctively tries to reach for his intercom. But the blade’s bite restricts his movements. Knees fall heavy against stained tiles. His assailant crouches with him, tenderly placing his body on the floor. Another futile attempt to call for help is made from this new position; one that’s sure to become his final one. Limbs gradually stiffen. A pointy chin tilts in mock confusion, the clown’s horrid scars hovering above him as vultures circle prey. After a moment in deathly silence, a hoarse voice finally breaks the monotone of muffled pants and bloody hiccups.

  “ ...You’re probably askin’ yourself- ” A pause. Free hand pinches a chapped chin. The clown’s shrewd gaze traverses to the ceiling and lights reflect in his pupils. “ -why the subway ? ” Sardonic nodding. “ Is it a .. message? A political statement. Maybe this guy just really hates trains... ” He continues to rub his chin in feigned thoughtfulness. Until chuckling spills from his disfigurement. “ Mm. That’s a good question. ” A finger wags in the guards direction. Jerome takes a moment to reach out and pinch the writhing man’s name tag, browse over his credentials. Then, an imprudent grip digs into the inner pockets of his blue jacket. After a thorough pat down, he finds what he’d been looking for; the guard’s personal cellphone.

       Squatting beside his dying victim, the clown wipes his switchblade clean on each of the man’s cheeks, painting a smile. There’s a certain undertone of perverted admiration in his maddened gaze. The guard merely responds, his eyes wide with horror, hands creeping up his chest in a final attempt to press down on his own gushing wounds. Jerome does naught to stop him. Instead, he focuses on the phone in his grip, dialing beep drowned under his raspy narration.

 “ When I was a kid, growin’ up in the circus— ya’kno’ that story, bet you’re kind that kicks his shoes off the coffee table and turns on GCN nightly while, uh, Susan plays wit’ your balls. ” A cackle. He leaves the number on screen, thumb hovering over the call button. Yet, instead of pressing it, Jerome turns back to the guard and continues while tucking his switchblade back into place.

    “ When I was a kid, Timothy ... I remember one time my Uncle took me to the city, downtown. He had business. Left me to window shop for a bit. Oh, I remember stumbling ‘cross one of those big - ” Arms spread to gesture the size. “ - toy trains, you know the ones with the mountains an’ the lil’ houses and the hills and the steeper heels and the junction rails... Stood there at the window, watching for hours.. ‘till my Uncle came back and dragged my ear all the way t’a home. Hell, he knew there was no way in hell I’d get my lil’ hands on that. Ha! Tell you what, kids like me ? I called it a hoot if I had breakfast on Christmas. ” He sneaks a pause in to laugh by himself.

    “ Kids like... Bruce Wayne, on the other hand- ” Head tilts, lips puckering into a faux pout. His pallid mien distorts in an expression that’s equal parts dread and amusement. “  ... He’s got a life size toy train, right here. ” One gloved hand abruptly jerks behind him, gesturing to the vacant halls. In the distance, the trains would be busy with people returning from work ... for the last time. Further down the hall, the explosives concealed in those garbage bags Jerome left behind would block the way out for those unlucky few that escaped the explosions in the wagons. Perhaps the entire wing would collapse ! Who knows, really. With another complacent snicker, the jester pushes himself up on long legs, discards the filthy straw hat and runs a hand through messy ginger spikes.

         “ Pth-heeh! Hey, hey, don’t worry ‘bout a thing, Timmy. ‘M sure you’re gonna bleed out before the boom. Oh, that reminds me- ” A small detonating device is collected from Jerome’s pocket and stuffed into the dying guard’s mouth. The clown offers one last soft noise though his horrid Glasgow grin before sliding around on heel and walking away. Eerie whistling fills the corridor.

                       A couple of minutes later comes the first blaring collapse.

Lost Everything - A Fic Swap

for @saviorsong​ - Love ya girlie! 

MASSIVE Endgame spoilers so if you’re NOT saviorsong and read this but haven’t seen it yet, you. have. been. warned!

I did not intend for this to be 3,800+ words but here we are.

Wind howls in your ears, pulling at your chestnut curls, as you fall through endless darkness—occasionally broken by a flicker of light. Lightning, if you had a guess. Your overlong coat flaps around your knees as you plunge headfirst into the bottomless abyss below you. The speed and shadows are wearing you out. Your body isn’t handling the stress of this fall very well.

This is pointless, your mind whispers. You’re going to die here and you’ll never save anyone.

I have to try, the more conscious part of your mind retorts to your self-doubt. It’ll work. I can do this.

If you insist, those doubts sneer.

You shut them up. You don’t have time for doubts right now. You got stuff to do. A mission to complete. Friends to save. Friends, family… civilization.

The ground rushes toward you, looming from the darkness.

Thud!

“Oof!” All the breath leaves your lungs.

You sit up.

You’re in the middle of a familiar-looking battlefield.

A crumbled building stands behind you—with a logo on it that makes your heart ache. A large letter A, with an arrow as the crossbar and a circle around it.

The Avengers compound in upstate New York. The sight of that logo, somehow intact despite the destruction, causes a chasm of loneliness to yawn open in your chest. How you missed them all…

“Hey Stark! Cap! We got a random chick in a black leather trench coat in the battlefield,” you hear someone call. You glance around. A man grows to normal size in front of you. “Hey. Who’re you?”

You stare. “S… Scott?” you ask.

The man leans away. “Have we met?”

“Now’s not the time for pleasantries, Lang!” someone else shouts.

At that moment, a six-limbed infantry creature—a “space dog” as that raccoon had once called them—leaps over the decimated ground, growling as it hurtles toward you. Scott vanishes—although “shrinks” would be the more accurate term—with a cry of surprise.

But you’re ready for the space dog.

The long dagger—“Or is it a short sword?” the voice of a passed friend teases in your mind—in your hand slices the thing clean in half. Disgusting body fluids—you’re not sure if it’s blood or guts or what combination—splatter over you. You wipe your eyes and mask and leap over the boulders, searching the battlefield for more familiar faces. Scattered over the churned earth are millions of enemies—but thousands of friends. You see the light shields of the Mystic Artists, the blue sonic cannons of the Wakandans, the flash of Cap’s shield as it sliced cleanly through the air, the lightning of… is that Mjolnir? Or Stormbreaker? Or is it Mjolnir and Stormbreaker?

You snicker. One weapon never seemed like enough for Thor.

Scott reappears. “Who are you? That was amazing!”

“Oh, Scott,” you say affectionately. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“How do you know my name? Do we know each other?” he asks, chasing after you as you take off across the chaotic fight.

“Not in this reality,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear it over the explosions. You rip the hem of your coat out of the claws of a space dog and drive your dagger into its guts.

Ignoring Scott’s stunned face, you make your way toward the lightning. Out of everyone you lost, that blond idiot was the one you missed the most.

You weave and leap and pounce on space dogs, letting your blade and muscles do their work. Your heart is pulling you toward Thor like he’s a magnet in the hands of a child and you’re a paperclip lost in the depths of a sofa, drawn irrevocably toward him.

Vaulting over a mound of upturned dirt and rock and concrete, you come face-to-face with a face that makes your heart reach out. Panting, you stare at him for a moment. “Thor…” you breathe, staring at him. He’s… different from the Thor in your reality. His hair is long—as is his beard. Your Thor was like that too—between his beheading of Thanos and the events that led up to this very fight in your reality, but his Asgardian physique had burned off the excess bodyweight faster when you dragged him out of his depression by that overlong hair.

He stares back at you. You become very aware of the fact that you’re covered in gunk from slaughtering space dogs mercilessly. There’s blood—some of it possibly your own—clumping your curls and splattered over your skin, mask, and coat.

“Have… we met?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not in this timeline,” you say. “In my timeline, though, we’re close.”

He reaches out and brushes a curl away from your face. “Yes… something… in my heart… recognizes you,” he says. His face sobers. He pushes you behind him and takes a swing at six space dogs at once with Stormbreaker, slicing them all to several pieces with a single swing.

Hot dang.

“Where’s Mjolnir?” you ask.

“Rogers has her,” he replies.

You can’t help but grin. No matter the timeline or reality, Steve was always worthy.

You hear a familiar snikt! And a slender, rather short boy drops onto the ground, letting go of a web. “Mr. Thor, sir,” young Peter Parker exclaims, out of breath. “It’s… the gauntlet.” He glances at you. “Uh… who are you?”

You smile at him. “Call me Evergreen,” you say.

“Uh, hi, uh, Evergreen. I’m, uh, Spider Parker. I mean—Peter-Man. I mean—” The kid swore under his breath. “Never mind.”

“It’s okay Spider-Man,” you say. “Now. What was that about the gauntlet.”

“Oh yeah! The flying, glowing space lady—whatever her name was—is racing for the quantum tunnel! She’s got help and she’s almost there but Thanos is heading right for her!”

Thor grabs you and launches into the air. “No time to waste!” he exclaims. You hold onto him tightly. It’s been… a while since he held you like this.

Since your Thor held you like this. You shake your head. This isn’t your Thor. You know it’s not. But… he kind of is. All Thor’s are… kind of your Thor. They’re all still Thor.

Man. Alternate realities and timelines were going to give you such a massive headache later.

^*^*^*^*^

You stand on the dock of New Asgard in Tønsberg, Norway, staring out over the ocean. Thor had brought you back with him after… the funeral. Thor is standing next to you, his remaining blue eye reflecting the color of the sea.

“So,” he says. “Tell me where you’re from.”

You sigh, glancing down at the wooden dock. “I’m from a timeline—a reality—where that fight didn’t… end quite so well.”

“Explain,” Thor requests. It sounds like an order, but the gentlest order you’ve ever heard.

You plop down on the dock, crossing your legs underneath you. Thor seats himself beside you. “We lost. In my reality, I’m an Avenger. Have been for… a long time. Years. Nat used to jokingly tease us that it was a bad idea to date a teammate. But the you in my reality and I didn’t care. Never did. And Nat was never serious anyway.” You shake your head. “Anyway. We lost. Tony didn’t manage to get the stones off the other gauntlet and Carol didn’t get it through the quantum tunnel either. Thanos just repeated what he’d done that we fought so hard to undo. What Nat…” You sniff. Thor reaches up and wipes a single tear from your left eye. “What Natasha sacrificed herself for. And… not only did we lose… but we fell. Thanos… he killed everyone. The whole team. He… he shredded the universe like he said he would.”

“How did you survive?”

You hold your dagger out. The glowing green gem in the hilt pulses in the mid-morning light. “I’m… before I was an Avenger, I had a past. Like everyone else. But it wasn’t noble like yours or Cap’s—”

“Mine is debatable,” Thor remarks. You snicker.

“Fair point,” you concede with a small grin. “Anyway. My past was more like Clint’s or Natasha’s. I… wasn’t always a hero. I fancied myself more of a Robin Hood character but… a thief is a thief, right?”

“A thief, eh? Is that the reason for the knee-length black leather coat?”

You smile. “It is,” you agree, glancing down at your outfit. It’d been repaired since the battle at the compound.

Form-fitting black trousers, combat boots, dark green shirt, stitched-up coat. After the space dogs nearly shredded your coat, you’d fixed it up.

“My apologies. Continue with your story.”

You tug your mask out of your pocket and stare at it contemplatively. “I wore many masks during that time, as a thief. But this dagger… well. It came to me when I was stealing something else.” You can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “It lets me jump between timelines and alternate realities. This stone… it’s not an Infinity Stone, but it’s still powerful in its own way. When Thanos shredded the universe and rebuilt it anew, I jumped ship before he could get me.”

“Indeed. That stone is powerful if it brought you here,” Thor agrees. “Tell me. Why do I feel my heart calling for yours when you and I have never met before?”

You stare out to sea, not looking at him. Behind you, somewhere, Valkyrie shouts at some human punk who was, “getting familiar.” You can’t help but snicker. You haven’t felt this at-home in months. Since everyone was stolen from you.

“In my reality, you and I were closer than just dating. We were… basically married. But it was different. It was less of a legal bond and more of a heart bond. We could always feel each other’s hearts and the closer we were, physically, the easier we could feel each other’s actual emotions. Made it hurt all the worse when the you in my universe died. That bond is lingering around me, I guess. And it’s still reaching for you. You’re still Thor.”

Thor hums in thought. “I see. I understand.” He’s quiet for several moments. “Why did you come here, Melody?”

You finally meet his eyes. “I lost my universe. I lost my family and friends. You. Everything and everyone I ever cared about. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Solace? Refuge?”

“I came to ask for help,” you retort, sharper than you intend. “I can make it back to my universe with this. If we can make it back before he destroys the stones the way he did the first time, I could get all of them back.”

Thor sighs. “We’ve already lost… so much.”

“I know. But don’t you think I lost a lot too?”

“You misunderstand,” Thor says. “I am not refusing. We’ve lost so much in this timeline as well, but we’re the Avengers. It’s our job to Avenge what we lose. And you’re the last Avenger of your timeline. I would gladly accompany you for another chance to kill that disgusting. However, I don’t think I can do so on my own. I will ask and see if anyone wishes to join. I swear to you, we will try to bring your universe—and your husband—back to you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

You smile. “I get to drive my blade into his eye socket.”

“A privilege I will gladly allow you.” Thor kisses your hair. Your heart aches and you desperately wish to bring his lips to yours. But you remind yourself, he may look like your Thor before you dragged him out of his depression, but he is not. You take what comfort you can from him in the form of his arm around you and his lips in your hair.

“Thank you.”

“Give me three days to rally some warriors. Then we will see about returning to your universe and avenging it.”

“Take your time, but not too much. I don’t know how long we have before Thanos destroys the Stones in my universe.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Thank you, Thor.”

^*^*^*^*^

You, Thor, and the rest of your more ragtag group of Avengers from another world spew out of your portal. Thor’s landing is much smoother than your jump into his world. He sets you down gently.

“Now,” he says, peering around the remade universe.

You smirk and peer up at him through your cleaned mask. “Bring me Thanos,” you purr.

He smirks in turn and flicks a loose curl off your shoulder. “Gladly,” he says.

You and your group charge off.

As you run, you look around the remade universe. At the very least, the remade Earth is beautiful. Much as you hate to admit it—even internally to yourself—Thanos has an eye for natural beauty.

If only it could come without his price of you losing everyone you love.

You clench your jaw. You can’t appreciate the beauty without your Thor by your side.

“Guys, I’m getting an energy signature!” Banner calls from just ahead of you. “I think it’s the Stones!”

“Let’s go!” you shout, finding more energy to keep going forward. Thor claps your shoulder.

“It’s going to work. I promise,” he says.

You nod in determination. “It will. We’re together.”

He nods back. You know he’s thinking that he’s not your Thor, but he’s still willing to give you support. Perhaps it’s the bond between you and your universe’s Thor tugging at him from your heart still. Maybe it’s just that he’s a big golden retriever full of love and heart.

You turn back towards where you’re running after Banner. “Let’s take him down!”

^*^*^*^*^

“Evergreen, now!” Thor shouts, holding Thanos around the neck.

You leap on him, knees holding you to the alien’s massive purple barrel chest.

Ruthlessly, you drive your dagger into Thanos’ eye. “That’s for my husband, you monster,” you snarl.

He goes limp underneath you. You manage to flip off him before he collapses. Thor tears the Avengers’ version of the Infinity Gauntlet off Thanos’ arm. You stare at it. That’s what killed Tony in this Thor’s universe. You and Tony were similar: no powers whatsoever. Your strength came from gadgets and objects—as well as intelligence and training. You couldn’t put that glove on, snap your fingers, and get your husband and friends and family back and live to tell the tale.

You can’t ask Banner to do the snap again either. It damaged him too—in your universe and his. You couldn’t have a random person do so either because they had no context and wouldn’t want to erase their whole universe. The normal people probably weren’t even aware that they were only created days ago at the expense of the people in the universe that existed before they did.

You pick up the gauntlet and quietly handle it. It’s decimated after already being used once by Thanos to remake your reality. It’s going to be hard to use again. The nanotech is damaged.

“Melody, don’t,” Thor says, setting his hand on top of the gauntlet and pushing it down so it’s out of your immediate field of vision. “Don’t even think about putting that thing on.”

“Who else is there?” you ask, looking up at him. His mismatched eyes meet yours steadily. “There’s no one else.”

Thor pushes his fingers into your hair, brushing it out of your face. It’s stained with Thanos’ violet blood. “Please, Melody, let me. Let me wear the glove and bring your family and friends back.”

“I… why would you do that? You’re not even from this reality!”

“I failed my reality once. If I can save yours, I can consider myself redeemed.” He tugs the gauntlet from your grip.

“Thor, no!” you try to protest, reaching for it. He holds it away from you. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. You’re not even mine but I… I know I can’t… I couldn’t handle watching you die again.” Thor’s arm holding the gauntlet as far away from you as possible relaxes a little.

“You won’t. This won’t kill me. I swear to you.” He smiles and jams his hand into the damaged gauntlet.

“Thor, wait!”

He smiles reassuringly and lifts his hand. He snaps his fingers.

You reach out as the gauntlet flares with bright white light. “Thor!”

For a moment, a void of white overtakes you, leaving you standing there in an endless expanse of light. You whirl in all directions, looking for the existence of literally anything or anyone else. Your dagger is clenched in your hand. For several long moments you’re alone in the light.

Then the light fades away, and you’re standing where you were.

Thor is standing there with his right arm—and armor—heavily burned. The gauntlet has fallen off his hand.

He stoops and picks up the blue Space Stone and red Reality Stone in one burned hand. The other whole hand brushes another chestnut curl from your eyes. “This is where we say our goodbyes, Melody. I’ll return myself and the others back to our own reality. I wish you the…” He winces and recoils as something hurts him. “The very best of luck. And the greatest happiness.” He smiles at you, both eyes sightly watering.

His ragtag Avengers gather around him. A portal of swirling red and blue opens and they all disappear.

You’re left alone.

The universe around you starts to dissolve. Turning to dust the same way you had seen half of your universe do five years before. Once everything is gone, you’re left floating weightless in an empty void. This time of darkness.

The shadows start to swirl, slowly at first and then getting faster and faster. You start spinning with its rotation, caught up in its momentum. The darkness begins to generate light. Red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, and vibrant violet. You clench your dagger tighter in your hand for stability—searching for one thing solid and real.

Reality seems to stretch and snap like a dolly zoom in a horror movie.

You’re standing on the ruined earth of the battlefield at the Avengers compound.

Alone.

Dust and ash seems to coalesce from the burning ground.

Each one becomes a person.

A friend. A family member. A warrior. A Mystic Artist. A Wakandan. A captain or two. And—

“THOR!” You can’t help it—seeing him again washes you with joy. This time, it’s your Thor. Short hair, short beard, and all. The bond between the two of you is pulling you right toward him. You heed it without caution, running at him from the moment he reformed. Your legs are throbbing slightly from all the running today, but you forget about the discomfort entirely.

You leap on him, wrapping both arms and legs around him, keeping your dagger’s blade away from him to keep him safe. He catches you and holds you tightly. You can feel relief and shock flowing down your bond from his heart to yours.

“Melody,” he whispers like the very sound of your name brings him rapture, a few chestnut curls pressed between his lips and your ear. “What happened?”

You climb off him slightly just so that you’re on your own feet. “I’ll explain fully later. For now… I’m just ecstatic to have you back.”

He smiles softly at you.

Thinking in perfect sync, you lean toward each other at the same time.

Your lips meet with eager enthusiasm.

^*^*^*^*^

You spin your dagger and slash at the arm of an arms dealer’s lackey, laughing and smirking.

Another day as an Avenger. A slow day, maybe, but another day.

Thor’s back presses against yours. You feel him chuckle in the deep vibrations from his lungs.

“Look at us,” you say. “The two of us, back at it again on the battlefield.”

That brings out a real laugh—that hearty belly laugh you love so much. “Indeed! I could think of nothing more fun!”

“Me neither,” you agree.

“Save it for the honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen,” Sam teases.

“We already did that,” you retort, grabbing a thug by the shoulder and kicking him in the gut down a short flight of stairs.

“I wouldn’t mind another, though,” Thor says playfully.

“Ugh. Definitely save the planning and fantasizing ’til you’re in private,” Sam says.

“But maybe we want to make you uncomfortable,” Thor teases as you swing up onto a henchman’s shoulder, grab his face, and jab your dagger into the soft tissue of his shoulder. With any luck, no one would die on this particular arms bust.

“There are innocent ears on this mission,” Scott remarks.

“Who?” Peter Parker wonders.

“You, small child,” Thor says, linking his arm with yours to pull you out of the way of a bullet and simultaneously throw you at another lackey.

“Hey! I’m not that young!” Spider-Man protests. Laughter echoes across the comms from the rest of the team. Even Barnes chuckles quietly—and he’s been pretty stoic for the last couple months. There’s a crackling of lightning behind you and you narrowly dodge getting zapped.

“Compared to me you are,” Thor says. “I’m fifteen-hundred. You’re fifteen.”

You laugh and pull Thor away from a thug in order to throw your dagger at the thug’s shoulder. With one quick motion the blade is free and you’re receiving a quick kiss from Thor.

“Hey, babe, whaddaya say we take a little vacation once this is over?” You glance over your shoulder at him when you make your suggestion.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Thor says. Lightning shoots down from the sky, lightly zapping a henchman who tried to sneak-attack the two of you. You snicker. Nothing was better than this. Surrounded by friends and family—your team—fighting side-by-side and back-to-back with the love of your life, knowing he was always going to be there for you. Nothing—not even Thanos’ crazy scheme—would ever separate the two of you permanently.

Your bond—no, your love—was too strong for that.

You tilt up onto your tiptoes—you almost swear he’s taller than he was before—and return Thor’s quick kiss with your own. “I love you,” you say, quick and quiet.

He smiles. “I love you too. And we all owe you our lives for getting us back.”

“Thor, I would fight to the ends of the universe as we know it for you and the rest of our family and friends.”

“I know. Without you, all would have been lost.”

You smile. “Well, maybe a little. But I couldn’t just let you cease to exist when you hadn’t finished doing the dishes at our place,” you tease. More laughter crackles with static on the comms.

Thor laughs. “You’re right, of course. How inconsiderate of me.”

“Well, take me on another honeymoon and we’ll call it even.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Eros - Bar AU [Season 2] Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE IS A MYSTIC MESSENGER AU.  IT IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE AMERICAN SITCOM CHEERS, A SHOW CENTERED AROUND A BOSTON BAR CALLED CHEERS AND IT’S REGULARS.  EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TRIED TO KEEP AS MUCH OF CANON PERSONALITIES WITH ALL THE MYSTIC MESSENGER CHARACTERS JUST REMEMBER THAT IT IS AN AU AND A FEW THINGS MAY BE DIFFERENT THAN IN GAME OR YOUR HEADCANONS. THIS HAS BEEN FUN TO PLAN AND I HOPE YOU FIND A BIT OF JOY READING IT!  

PG13+ FOR SWEARIN’ AND BOOZIN’.

[Season 1]

[Season 2] | Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5p1 | Ch. 5p2 | Ch. 6 | Ch.7 | Ch. 8

It was twelve in the afternoon and the entire Eros staff was busy cleaning the entire bar. Zen had been barking out orders between dragging the ladder to clean out any of the vents, “Cannon, make sure the baseboards are completely free of dust! Red, check for anything resembling mold along the drying racks for the glasses. Sunny, check under every table for gum or any other gunk!” From his knelt position on the floor, Cannon grunted, “What do you think i’m doing here, boss? Giving the wall a quickie? Why are you freakin’ out so badly anyway. We shine this place up every Sunday and you sure as hell make sure we go over everything after close.” “I don’t care! Double check everything! The health inspector is coming today and if we get hit with any violations, Sugar is going to have my ass!” Zen exasperated, wiping the metal of an air vent not once, twice, but three times. It was true that he was obsessed with the place being clean but he always got jittery when it came to code violations. He’d rather be safe than sorry, even if they all had to work extra hours. “Zen, this place looks great and it always has. I think we can slow down a bit and just spot check.” Sunny squeaked from beneath a table. Of course she found nothing as she had done this same exact task the night before, “What are you so afraid of, anyway?” Zen screwed the cover back in place, letting out a sigh as he looked down at the woman, “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t want any issues. As soon as the inspector can leave, the more relaxed we can all be.” “I’m pretty relaxed right now, honestly. Whoever comes doesn’t scare me. We’ve always passed the health inspection!” Red chimed in as he obediently followed Zen’s orders. He knew better then to complain, since the other bartender always seemed on edge when things like this came up, “But it doesn’t hurt to double-check our work!” Zen nodded with a smile, glad that at least one of them would be on his side, “Exactly! If we do this now, we won’t have to worry about a thing! And also, I promised you guys lunch and dinner on top of being paid for these extra hours! Not a bad gig, eh?” “I’ll take sleeping in over that, boss.” Cannon hissed, but he too knew to just go along with whatever crazy ramblings Zen had. “Lets just finish up so I don’t have to keep crawling around. My legs are starting to hurt.”

The evening finally came around and patrons were about left and right, being oddly busy for a weekday. This worried Zen greatly, since it was even harder to keep things tidy with the flow of business. He constantly had to remind himself that the inspection didn’t really have anything to do with how messy the customers were, but how they handled the clean up. Jingle~ “Welcome to Eros!” Zen called out, flashing a bright smile to the older man that entered, “What can I serve you?” The gentleman waddled over to the bar, a disgruntled look on his face, “I’m Mr. Soo, here to do an inspection. Where is the owner of this bar?” Zen cleared his throat and straightened up, wiping his hands along a towel, “That would be me, sir. Zen at your service! Please take a look around, I’m sure you’ll find-” “Yes yes, I’ll find this place in tip-top shape. That’s what everyone says. Look kid, I’ve had a long day already so don’t try to kiss my ass. I’ll look around and don’t bother me!” Mr. Soo placed his things down on the bar top and wandered towards the back first. Red let out a low whistle once the man was out of sight, “He sure is friendly, huh?” Cannon snickered as he doodled along his order book, “Glad to see that someone else doesn’t put up with Zen’s bullcrap.” “Hey! I was just being friendly. I can’t help it if the guy had a rough day. He’ll warm up to me, they always do.” They all turned when they heard a boisterous laugh come from the back room. The only person there was the inspector, what could have caused him to erupt in such a fit? Zen looked around and turned paler than he already was when he noticed Sunny missing, “Oh no...please tell me she’s in my office.” “Last I knew, she was tidying up the pool tables.” Cannon replied. He seemed to have a homing missile for her location at all times which no one ever questioned, “You should have given her the day off, boss. You know how she manages to screw things up on accident.” “I can go check on them if you’d like,” Red offered, but before Zen could answer the two had emerged from the back. “What was that noise again? How do the pipes sound in the storage closet?” Mr. Soo egged Sunny on. “They go, EEEEEEEEEWWWWOOOOOAAAAPP! I swear! It’s only when its really windy outside, but it scares me. Do you think the roof will cave in?” Sunny responded with genuine curiosity. Although the inspector bursted into another fit of giggles, Zen was having trouble catching his breath. Why would she even think to point out anything out of place? Granted, the pipes had nothing to do with the health inspection but bringing attention to potential issues wasn’t necessarily a great idea. “Show me the bathrooms, Sunny! You really think there’s a ghost in there?” Mr. Soo, pulled her along. “Oh yes! I hear knocking on the windows and walls all the time when I’m in there! Maybe it’s a friendly ghost, though. You know, like the ones of TV. Sometimes I sit in there and talk to them. Just imagine how lonely they get. Maybe they just want friends!” Cannon facepalmed at her ridiculous comments. Who in the world would want to actively listen to her ramblings? Why in the world did he find it annoyingly cute? He sighed loudly and picked up the tray that had been set up for his table, “You two better control that girl or she’ll probably get this place a bad score.” “No no, I think...this will work.” Zen tapped along his chin as he fell into contemplation, “He’s laughing at her because he doesn’t know her all that well. We all shake our heads because we know how naive she can be. Maybe...we should let her run her course. If he gets in a better mood, he’ll be a bit more lenient!” Red chuckled as he filled a few glasses with beer for the patrons around the bar top, “You are putting a lot of trust in that girl. If you don’t recall, she’s single-handedly caused a few of your breakdowns.” “Yes but he seems to enjoy her company! Maybe he’s into that kind of thing, you know? Old guys are weird. They can be into the whole, airhead routine. All she has to do is keep talking and bouncing around the way...she...does…” Zen trailed off, eyes widening as he realized, along with Red, what could potentially be happening. “Maybe he’s a creeper.” They both whispered in unison and without another word, they both scrambled out from behind the bar to run to the bathroom. “SUNNY!” When the door was slammed open, their eyes fell on the waitress who had stood up on the water heater while waving her arms around like wet noodles, “Ghost friends~! Meet Mr. Soo! He’s really nice and wants to be your friend too! Come out and say hello - oh hey guys! You want to talk to the ghosts too?” She smiled at the two at the door, Mr. Soo holding back his laughter at her display. “Sunny, get down from there! You’ll hurt yourself!” Zen snipped at her, walking to help her step down, “There aren’t any ghosts here, what are you talking about?” She held a finger to her lips, shushing him, “Don’t say things like that, you’ll hurt their feelings! Apologize!” “Apologize? What! Sunny, c’mon!” Zen whined, “You have tables to look after, you know.” Sunny pouted as she kicked her feet along the tile, “Alright. It was nice walking around with you, Mr. Soo! I have to go back to work though.” “It’s alright, child. You go on! My my, you’re so sweet, you remind me of my granddaughter. Let’s get this inspection finished up, shall we? I’m in a much better mood now thanks to her.” Zen let out a sigh of relief once the two had left the bathroom, shooting a gaze towards Red, “I told you she would come in handy.” “Be glad that he didn’t get handsy, though.” Red smirked, “I don’t know if Sugar could cover up a lawsuit for beating up someone like an inspector.” Zen waved him off, heading out back towards the bar. He perked when he saw that Duckie had entered, immediately going to fill him a mug of beer, “Hey you! Sorry I didn’t hear you come in. Doing alright tonight?” Duckie smiled as he saw Zen, waving wildly in his direction, “Hey! Yeah, it’s been fine! Finished up a term paper so I decided to stop in for a drink. Who’s the old guy poking around the bar?” “It’s the health inspector. It’s that time of year, you know.” Red answered as he joined Zen behind the bar, “Don’t worry about him. I think Sunny just won us a passing grade.” “Were you worried? This place is always spotless! The cleanest place on this side of town!” Duckie chirped, graciously taking the drink that Zen offered him, “I mean, you are always cleaning something or having things shifted around. I couldn’t even imagine what he would find wrong.” “You never know, Duckie,” Zen said as he started cleaning some dirty cups, “I hate to admit it, but even I’m human and can overlook things.” Cannon gasped as he put his arm around Duckie, “Did you hear that, Ducks? The almighty boss admits to being imperfect? Someone call the doctor! Better yet, the news station! This is truly ground-breaking!” “Shut up, Cannon.” Zen sneered, “As amazing as I am, I know I make mistakes. Such as the mistake of hiring you.” Cannon wiggled his fingers towards Zen, “Oooh, scary~ you sure showed me!” “Come on, guys! Play nice.” Sunny chided as she walked up, handing Red a drink order, “Everyone here is vital to the team and there were no mistakes made!” She nodded firmly and pat Cannon on the head, “Even you, between your harsh words and sour moods.” Cannon blushed softly, clearing his throat as he created distance between him and Sunny, “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Zen narrowed his gaze on the waiter, watching him fumble around before heading to his tables. His jaw dropped as the light bulb illuminated in his head. Did Cannon have a crush on Sunny? Is this why he was always thrown into a bad mood when the girl would get anywhere near him? His thoughts cycled through the instances he could remember when the younger man would get irrationally angry at Sunny’s closeness, every time she would be garnering comfort or physical interaction with him. “Oh.” The bartender muttered to himself. He instantly felt terrible for the things he haphazardly did that may have made Cannon jealous. Zen never meant to, admittedly he was only trying to protect Sunny from Cannon’s temper. A wide smile spread across his lips as he started to hatch a plan. This could potentially improve relations between him and his employees, and give Cannon a bit of happiness in his otherwise stressful life. “Hey Zen! The inspector wants to speak with you in your office,” Red interrupted his thoughts, “Better go see what the principal has to say.” “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Watch the bar for a bit, I’ll be back.” Zen answered as he went to follow Mr. Soo back into the room. After some time, they came out in good spirits, The older man patting Zen’s back, “You’re alright, kid! Keep up the good work! I expect a good drink when I come back!” “Anything for you, Mr. Soo!” Zen bowed towards him before leading him to the door, “I appreciate you coming tonight, and I’ll make sure Sunny is your waitress when you do come in for that drink!” Other light banter was exchanged before the inspector left the bar, and Zen turned towards Red with a thumbs up, “Passed with flying colors! He thought the place was spotless! Good job everyone!” A rumble of cheers passed through the establishment, Sunny running up to Zen to give him a hug, “See! Nothing to worry about!” He stopped her before she could wrap her arms around him, patting her on the head, “Yeah, I wasn’t worried in the slightest! Hey, why don’t you go tell Cannon that he did a good job? He always says something snarky to me but I really want him to know that I appreciate his hard work.” She tilted her head and looked over at Cannon who was cleaning up a freshly abandoned table, “Okay! He really does work hard, I shouldn’t give him such a hard time.” Once she skipped over to him, Zen made his way back behind the bar and lowered his head towards Red, “Hey, has your brother ever had a crush on someone?” Red raised a brow, “Eh? I think so. He’s too stubborn to believe it if he does, but I know when he acts differently around certain people.” “And is there anyone you can think of right now that he treats differently?” Zen mused, watching the two waiters interact from a distance. Red blinked and followed Zen’s gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Say, you think so too?” Zen nodded, and they both stood there watching as Cannon blushed at Sunny’s compliments and affirmations. They looked at eachother, grinning wildly. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Zen asked. “I think I am thinkin’ what you’re thinkin’. Between the two of us thinkin’, we could probably make things happen,” Red replied. “Hey, you two sure are thinking a lot. Want to share?” Duckie leaned forward towards them as he had caught their exchange, “I can keep a secret!” “You really can’t, Duckie.” Red chuckled, “Especially when you drink too much.” He reached for the empty beer glass in front of the blonde to refill it, “Just sit back and enjoy the show.” “Ugh, you two suck!” Duckie pouted, “One day I’ll have a big secret and I won’t tell any of you!” “Yes you will.” Zen and Red, once again, spoke in unison. Duckie grabbed the fresh mug and huffed, “Whatever, you’ll see.”

taggerino: @zenscrotch @illneverrecover @suzunesays @serensama @kookiedoe @forever-ender  ((If y’all don’t wanna be tagged anymore, let me know! I know it’s been F O R E V E R))

before i do some D&D for today I wanna take up @chapelseed‘s dare and post the first chapter of my book. It’s not great, and not fully proofread but I feel like sharing it owo

so without further ado, chapter one of Inner Sin

Inner Sin

Book 1

Original Sin

Chapter 1

Nightmares

As usual, the subway was an overcrowded mess. Bodies pushed up against each other hanging onto flimsy metal bands while the few and lucky people got their seat off to the side, many of them filling the seats around them with whatever useless junk they dragged with them. Chris Mattews was one such lucky person, having gotten on at such a remote station in the city and at such an ungodly hour that it was empty by the time he'd gotten on. He couldn't complain either, he'd hate to be one of the drones of people around him standing in silent anger, especially with what little sleep he had gotten the night before. Where he was was comfortable for him.

So much so it wasn't surprising he'd drift off…

The crowded train was gone from view. In its place Chris was left in an endless expanse of black, the floor seeming to ripple with each careful step he took.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice echoing around from every direction. On and on the only sound he heard was his own and the only thing he could see was black.

The voice he heard started to turn from his own, sounding distorted and scratchy. The rippling of the ground stopped coming from Chris’ steps, they were coming from in front of him.

Hellohellohellohellohhhhheeeeeeelllllllll

“Ooooooo? Chris, anyone home in there?” Chris was stirred awake by the person next to him, moving the brown bangs of his long messy hair out from his eyes. Ricky was ready to snap in his face again as he had been for the past few minutes, giving a cocky grin to his friend as he came to.

“‘Ey there we go! Up and at em Chris boy, we're almost at our stop.” Ricky’s voice bled with his Brooklyn origins. “You still jet lagged or somethin’?”

“Uh yeah… guess so.” Chris said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grabbing his bag and joining his friend standing. “Honestly ever since I got back I've been having bad dreams.”

“No kiddin’? Sure you don't need to see ol’ Rouge then?” Ricky snickered, reaching into his pocket to show the top of a bag. “Or maybe more medicinal help~?”

“Fuck off Ricky,” Chris’ voice turned stern, a ding and muffled voice over the train’s sound system announcing they were at their stop. “I'm not buying your crap.” He then quickly followed along with the crowd of people exiting the train, leaving his friend to roll his eyes.

“Pfft, stick.”

Chris imagined his high school was like just about every other one; old, poorly funded, and filled with people he didn't know or care about. His only focus towards anyone in the school was limited to the people of his class, all of which were scattered around the room chatting away as he entered.

“Good lord Micheal!” Screamed out the short blonde girl, Brianna, to her much taller peer. “Can you not keep it in your pants for one night? I can barely hear my own thoughts with all that noise from your apartment!”

“So sorry Bri, but I just couldn't help myself!” Micheal chuckled to his neighbor, waving her off. “Besides, if you couldn't sleep you could have always joi-”

“God no!! Keep you and your little… sexcapades outta my life.” She huffed, taking her seat at the front of the class. As she sat she was joined by her desk neighbor, Chris, turning to him now. “Honestly, can you believe him? Why do people fall for him?”

“Couldn't tell you,” Chris shrugged, leaning onto his desk with his head in his hands. “I've just learned to tune his room out at this point.”

Brianna shook her head in annoyance, leaving Chris to listen in on the rest of his classmates.

“‘Ey how you doing there Jenna? Enjoyed yourself last night, I hear from a buddy you got some good stuff.” He heard Ricky say, most likely near the back of the class talking up to Jenna, who was more than likely already high off her mind and blankly staring off into space next to Alex.

“Shut up Ricky…” she said, a groan coming from her. “It's from my doctor not your creep friends…”

“‘Ey who said I'm not friends with doctors? Heheheh!”

Chris let the snickering voice of Ricky fill his head as he slowly felt himself drift back off into sleep…

Once again Chris was back in the dark void he was in before, the floor he was on before now a pitch black liquid that reached his knees. All around him he could hear the same laugh that brought him back here, reverberating from all around this void.

“This is a weird ass dream…” Chris said to himself, his own voice drowned out by the laughter. Looking down at his legs he could see the ripples in the water once again coming from somewhere in front of him. But he wasn't prepared for what was there.

Emerging from the liquid was a mass of black gunk, writhing and shaking to and fro as it grew. The mass began to slender up into a long form, the top pushing forward towards Chris. From the very top popped open two, large, glowing yellow eyes, the slitted irises pointing down on Chris. The two shared a silent staring contest for a time before an elongated row of jagged, yellow teeth grew across the “face” of this mass, forming a smile. The jagged mouth opened to follow along with the laughter echoing through the room, the sound becoming distorted and corrupted as it synced up with the noise.

HeheheHEHeheHehEHEheheHEHEHEhEheH

“Mr. Mattews!!” Was the words yelled down at Chris that woke him from his unconscious state. Looking up Chris was met by the scrutinizing stare of his teacher, Mr. Amuny, his brow furrowed in clear annoyance.

“So nice of you to join us from your current trip to dreamland.” He said, chuckling coming from some of his classmates. “I'm amazed you were able to take another one so soon after your trip to Israel, it must have been quite expensive.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and annoyance.

“Sorry sir…” Chris sheepishly said as he stood up in his seat, trying to be as awake as possible.

“As you should be,” Mr. Amuny said, looking down at Chris before taking his seat at his own desk. “Now then, seeing how Mr. Mattews missed the beginning of class, and it's a half day, I'll just pass back your reports.” At the sound of such an assignment, Chris silently panicked, knowing full well he missed it entirely.

“Brianna Kingsly!” The Indian man called out into the class, said person giddily skipping up to the front desk. “Your report on the current political standing and its needed improvements was an intriguing read. An A+ for you.” He announced, handing Brianna a folder.

“Thank you Mr. Amuny! I just want to help our country obviously~.” Brianna said as she snatched the folder, her words drowning with sweetness and pride.

“Mr. Safrete!” Amuny called once again, the person coming up being the portly Horton Safrete, still eating his bagel from the morning. “While I'm not a nutritionist or very knowledgeable in how genetics and weight are connected, I applauded you for your work. B-.”

“Thanks professor.” Horton said between chews. “Put a lotta work into it, I appreciate it.”

“Neid!!” Calling out another name and bringing forth the skiny demeanor of Alex Neid shuffling up to the front desk. “I must say I'm a little surprised by how close your work was in comparison to Ms. Kingsly’s on politics. C.”

“T-thank you Mr. Amuny…” Alex shyly told their teacher, shuffling back to the end of the room. Mr. Amuny’s eyes soon narrowed down onto Chris, filling the young man’s heart with dread.

“Let me guess Mr. Mattews,” he spoke even though he knew the answer. “You don't have the report I told you about before you left?”

“I um…” Chris started to say, trying to come up with some excuse for himself. Luckily for him it seemed his talkitive friends had his back on this.

“Prof. Amuny,” Micheal’s smooth talking voice came. “If I may, wouldn't it make much more sense for our dear Chris to write about his experience abroad?”

“Yeah! I'd think it'd be an awesome read.” Ricky butted in.

“Probably better than most of ours…” was faintly picked up from the back coming from Jenna.

“Shut up!!” Roared Amuny, slamming his fist on the table and shocking the group of students to attention. A disgruntled sigh escaped the older man as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I commend you all for coming to the aid of your peer, but that doesn't mean I'm changing your grades.” Brianna gave a slight snort at that, smirking. “But as well… I agree with your thoughts. Very well Mr. Mattews…” his gaze returned to Chris and the bearded smile he was given creeped Chris to his core. “Fifty pages on your experience in Israel on my desk tomorrow.”

Chris felt his heart sink at such a task, staring up at his teacher. “H-how am I suppose to do that?!”

“Not my problem Mattews. Here's hoping you got enough sleep in class.” Once Amuny finished that sentence the school bell rang, the trampling sound of students leaving beginning to pick up. “Well it seems you're all free for today, we'll be continuing our lesson on reptiles tomorrow, make sure to bone up on the chapter on snakes.” Amuny’s words practically fell on deaf ears as his students had begun to leave.

“Not you Mattews.” Chris heard, stopping dead in his tracks from packing, once again looking up at Mr. Amuny. “Seeing how you missed so much class, including today, I thought it might be worth while to give you a crash course.” Once again the older man’s grin was terrifying, Chris’ only comfort being the hand placed on his shoulder.

“Good luck…” Jenna tiredly said, yawning and adjusting her glasses before taking her hand and leaving. Horton and Ricky at the door gave a silent prayer while Micheal drew a cross over his chest.

‘Oh boy…’ Chris thought to himself, gulping.

Three hours. Three grueling hours of a constant bombardment of information, and if Chris even started to drift off he was smacked back awake. Needless to say this wasn't exactly how Chris thought his first day back would be like.

“I don't want to hear another god damn thing about reptiles ever again.” Chris groaned as he walked down the street. It was the dead of night at this point, and for a street in New York it was rather empty, but that's how Chris preferred it. He hoped it'd be this easy and less crowded on his whole trip home as frankly he just wanted to write his report and sleep for a thousand years.

Suddenly though Chris felt a… pain in the back of his head. It was sharp and quick at first but it struck him again as he moved forward, stumbling on his feet and falling against an alleyway garbage bin. “Oww… fuck…” Chris groaned, rubbing his still stinging head.

“What was that?” Chris went as dead silent as possible, covering his mouth to quiet his breathing. The voice he'd heard was rough and wet, like a saw moving through water. And it sounded close. Peaking over the edge of the bin gave Chris a sight that nearly made him vomit.

Standing in the far side of the alley under the flickering light of a lamp was a tall figure, standing well over Chris’ own six feet in height, hunched over scanning the area with bright, piercing red eyes. Its body looked humanoid, but parts were seemingly stretched, patches of whatever clothing it had being torn open by a series of jagged spikes that seemed to cover itself, two massive ones having sprouted from its arms reaching the ground. Its mouth held a row of long, sharp teeth that were very clearly covered in blood and gore, the source of which was undoubtedly the ripped apart body that it was hunched over.

Holding back his scream and vomit, Chris slowly pulled away from viewing the sight, hoping he wasn't seen himself. He needed to run, to hide, call the police, the god damn army. He needed help, now.

Another sharp pain dug through Chris’ head, having to bite back his urge to scream in agony but unable to keep his leg from jerking out in pain.

*clinck-kongalongalong*

A discarded can was right in his foot’s path and was now scattered across the alley, loudly skipping across the ground. Chris didn't even have time to panic, he got up as fast as he could and made a run for it.

But he didn't get far.

“I thought I heard something~.” Chris felt the hood of his jacket get grabbed as his body was lifted with it, getting a glimpse of the monstrosity he had saw just a moment ago up close. It was only a glimpse because he was thrown backwards across the alley, soaring through the air before slamming against the wall. Chris could feel a rib crack, blood filling his mouth as he tried to stand but couldn't, his legs were paralyzed from fear. He spat out a glob of blood and noticed he was next to the mangled, half eaten corpse he had seen before, but couldn't bring himself to throw up as he looked to see the monster in front of him. “I thought I was going to be done tonight, but I guess you're just in time for dessert!!”

The creature cackled and laughed as it brought its mass spike up ready to strike Chris. This was it for him. Only one thought was left in his head.

“Help.”

Help

Help

Helphelpgelphelphelphhhheeeelllpppppp

“Ok.”