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austarus · 3 years

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Timeless!Harrison Wells x Reader - White King, Black Queen

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2267

You narrowed your eyes as the city continued to bustle, noise from people and cars emitted in the air. Clouds hung sparsely over Central City as the waning moon took the place of the sun high in the sky. The wind blew a light breeze through your hair. You kicked a leg back and forth gently as you sat on the edge of the STAR Labs tower wings. Your other leg was bent close to your body, an arm resting over your knee. The height didn’t scare you so much as it used to. In fact, you didn’t mind being so close to the edge anymore. If you fell, then you fell. Truth be told, your powers would save you whether you willed it to or not. Some would say it’s a curse, others not so much. Your umbrakinesis acted like a defense mechanism at those times. A sigh left your lips as you straightened up your back, cracking it. Relief echoed through your body, but your heart felt heavy. Time is ticking... You knew what was happening downstairs, Gideon had alerted you when someone entered the Time Vault. It wouldn’t be completely wrong to say that you didn’t want to face him – couldn’t get attached since he’d been here. Not again. Staying up here was your way of avoiding that problem until… Until what, though?

The hair at the back of your neck stood up, a chill ran down your spine as your shadows alerted you of a presence a distance behind you. Turning your head slightly, you sent an icy look to the one person you dreaded to see. The face of the man you had seen pass one too many times. Their looks from their final moments imprinted in your mind for this one to come back. He was the last thing you had of them.

Harrison Wells.

A small smile was on his face, his hair tousled with his clear-framed glasses perched on his nose. He knew you’d be up here. The others told him you’d been up here since his reincarnation into the world. Since he’d made contact with Team Flash to help them and explain his predicament of currently living. But really, Harrison would have known if no one had told him. He had sensed it. Seen it – the images flickered past in his brain. The other versions of himself with you up here – the foreign familiarness that he personally did not experience.

But nothing more than a dreadful reminder of what’s past.

“I’ve come to say good-bye,” the genius started in a soft voice, wanting to approach you carefully. Your glare bothered him, yet he knows it shouldn’t, for once Harrison leaves, he will be united with Tess, the love of his life. Over and over and over again.

You snorted, turning your gaze to the stars that twinkled away from the clouds. You could see the constellations of Cassiopeia, winking brightly light-years away. “Such a shame, you could have helped them with Godspeed.” A bitter laugh left your lips as you recalled Nash showing you how to recognize the constellations and where to navigate from there. Sherloque would drink his tea up here with you and converse about his cases. HR would read to you his latest ideas and novels while you gave your input. You would drag Harry out of his lab to get some fresh air. And Eobard… he was the one who showed you this view, before Barry had woken up, before the Particle Accelerator had gone online.

“Team Flash is more than capable of handling threats on their own.”

“I take it you think that having a Wells must be a handicap, hm?”

“I never said that.”

“Hmph.”

“I couldn’t leave without telling you good-bye.” You pressed your lips thinly and Harrison continued, pocketing his hands in his dark coat. “It didn’t feel right to go without saying that.” The night was getting colder, yet you remained out here in a thin jacket. Dare he say, he worried a bit? You turned to fully look at him from your seated position. “I… won’t deny the sentiment I feel towards you. The memories of the past Wells. Their thoughts – well, previous thoughts – and feelings are still here.” Harrison had gestured to his head then placed a hand on his heart. Bile rose at the back of your throat as the smiling images of the boys hit your mind. You bit your lip hard as he spoke, “Each one of them felt strongly for you, but I’m not them. They’d want you to move on. To live-”

“No!” Your patience snapped, standing up rapidly with expert footing. Shadows went rampant in the night, wind howling in his ears. “You don’t get to say that!” Darkness immediately consumed the atmosphere and air around you both. Unbridled anger licked up in your heart and soul as you took heavy steps towards him. Harrison couldn’t see, but he could feel the moving darkness as he stood his ground. “You have no right to act all high and mighty towards me.” A hiss left his lips as a dark particle lashed at his arm, burning through his coat and marring his skin just as he heard your anger burn in your next words. “You don’t understand the strings that fate has chained me with! Nor will you ever understand my burden.”

***Flashback***

“What is it that you want?” You glared at the entity. The Monitor had appeared in your kitchen as you were pouring yourself some alcohol to enjoy your quiet night. You had taken some time away from all the heroes and villains running around.

“I came because I require your assistance for the Crisis.”

“Pass, I’m not in the mood to play the hero.”

“The point is not to be a hero or the villain, but to honor fate’s will.”

“Well fate can go hump a stump for all I care,” you sipped on your choice of alcohol, you turned away from the eternal entity only to find him in front of you right as you had exited your kitchen. A deep frown crossed your features. This is such a drag.

“Fate has bound your life to Harrison Wells the moment you first met him years ago.”

“False, that was Eobard masquerading as Wells. So, technically no.”

“That technicality may be so, but fate saw the speedster as your gateway to the rest of them. Without Thawne you would not have been so tied to Harrison Wells’ existence.” Rolling your eyes, you took another sip, already knowing you’d need a couple of glasses to forget about this interaction. “Your life is bound to his. To them.” The Monitor had you right where he wanted you, pushing images into your mind to allow you to see reason. “You were a lover.” You flinched as the image of Eobard appeared in your mind. “A partner.” Harry. “A friend.” HR. “And a confidante.” Sherloque. “Now this one needs you as well, he is in danger of himself with the Anti-monitor. My opposite entity.” You knew he was referring to Nash, the multiverse explorer with the haughty attitude and snarky comments.

“…”

“You are the anomaly that exists in the multiverse, there is no other in your position.” The entity saw the hesitation flicker in your being. “The time has come for you to be his protector.”

***Time Skip***

Nash panted, on the ground of this desolate land on his hands and knees. His mouth felt dry, tasting iron in his mouth from the blood on his split lip. How much longer can he endure this? The Anti-monitor continued to laugh at him, to mock him, for his weakness. Pariah gripped hard at the dirty snow, blood and mud defiled the pure whiteness. He couldn’t get back up. His body ached. No matter how hard Nash tried to push back, the Anti-monitor was too strong for him even with these temporary powers.

“Humans are such fickle beings,” the anti-entity spoke in a grand manner, “Soon the multiverse will be mine and there shall be no flaws. No humans to corrupt my domain.” The eternal being gathered his divine power into the palm of his hand and fired anti-matter at his appointed Pariah. The one to bear witness of the end of the multiverse. His curse.

Nash shut his eyes; this was the end. This was his end. A breath left him, what he expected to be his final breath. But the final blow never came. Ringing greeted Nash’s ears as he opened his eyes. Standing in front of him, shielding his body was you and your dark powers. For whatever reason it withstood the anti-matter as particles clashed against one another. You stood defiantly and gracefully in your fighting positions, conjuring your dark spectacles from every shaded corner.

“Don’t you dare touch him, you fucking monster.” You growled, your hands working magnificently to bind the Anti-monitor down. Once bound your umbra became spears and swords that pierced through the entity. While it could not kill the Anti-monitor, it slowed him down – meaning it would slow down his assault on Nash. You needed to get him to safety, needed him to have enough strength to teleport you two away from this dimension. And that’s exactly what you convinced him to do when you grabbed him, hugging his injured body to yourself as he fought to stay conscious.

***End Flashback***

“You don’t understand what loss truly is! You don’t get how hard it is to move on from this.” Just as you had moved, so had Harrison. A dagger of darkness at his throat, clenching the front of his cloak as he held a dagger of light to your own throat. Harrison gritted his teeth as he used his powers to light up the area in his green light. “This pain, the misery of losing over and over and over again. To bear the burden of fate’s strings only to watch them all fall.” He flinched at how the veins around your eyes had darkened to a charcoal color. His throat dried as fear hit him. Harry’s memory flashed into his mind – the memory of you in this state, accidentally killing a meta in self-defense. “You’re just a selfish man, running away from what’s in front of him.” Harrison’s light battled against your darkness to keep the physical manifestations of umbra away from harming his body. “I despise people like that.”

“I’m only doing what’s best for me.”

“By what, Harrison? Running to the past? What’s in the past is best left in the past, those who hold on to the past don’t appreciate the present.”

“Such hypocritical words coming from someone who sulks around up here for what once was.”

“You don’t fucking know anything about me. All you have are some second-hand memories, but you don’t truly know me and what I’ve been through. You’re just like Barry.”

“And you’re any different?”

“At least I know the difference between reality and a desperate dream.”

“…” He knew Tess is doomed to die for time to flow, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cherish every second with her until it was time. Maybe he was a desperate man chasing after a desperate dream, but he would until the bitter end. For Tess.

“A Time Loop is just a miserable notion for you to see Tess when her destiny is already a fixed time point. Just like Barry’s mother. Their deaths are absolute. Even with your Timeless powers you can’t interfere with what’s set in place.”

“That may be so, but I’ve fulfilled my part here – at least I have someone to return home to, even if they are doomed to die. I could be by her side over and over again.”

Harrison’s words pierced your heart, you pushed the tears back. The ache in your heart throbbed at a greater rate. At least… he had the power to return to his someone… The genius saw the haunting dejection in your eyes, the way your shoulders quivered as you tried to keep yourself together. He regretted the words that left his mouth…

“Do as you please,” you whispered, loosening your grip on his jacket to let him go. The darkness dissipated as you walked back to your perch with pocketed hands. “I’m done begging…” You mumbled to yourself so quietly that he didn’t catch your last statement. A tear left your eyes as you stood tall where you once sat.

“Good-bye,” Harrison murmured to the wind drifting in your direction before turning and leaving. A part of him felt torn by the things he had spat at you. What’s done is done. I doubt I’ll be back here any time soon. Clenching and unclenching his hand, Harrison shut his eyes and summoned his powers to pass through time. Tess, I’m coming home.

“Good-bye, Harrison.” Another tear fell, this time you wiped it as the night continued. He was gone. They were gone. You were alone, once again spectacularly alone and cold.

The pieces are all in place. The time has come…

Time still ticked as seconds went bye. A voice whispered at the back of your mind; the presence residing there since his exorcism. The one that kept you company through all this.

“It’s time, my queen.”

Checkmate

#harrison wells x reader #og harrison wells #timeless wells #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells #The Flash #the flash cw #the cw #team flash #the flash fanfiction #nash wells #the monitor #Sherloque Wells #harry wells #hr wells

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crimefighter-bae-b · 2 years

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Resident Alien

Season 2 Episode 3

I tried typing this out once and it got deleted, so here we go again.

I have some opinions about the new episode of Resident Alien. I recognize what SYFY is, and I know what tone the show is trying to hit, but I feel like they have handled other topics better and with more sincerity than they did with this one.

(Spoilers below the cut)

I really like the message that they are trying to give, but I really disagree with their way of doing it. I didn’t feel like the show really committed to it. We have had moments where the show has quieted and given space and respect to topics. It is capable of it. But, when it came to the moment where Harry revealed to Asta his discomfort with being a woman and why, the scene didn’t feel like it had the solemnness or care that other scenes about serious topics have had. It felt like the show itself was afraid to take it too seriously.

Also, Harry’s previous experiences with sex made his revelation about how women experience the world, and the objectification of their bodies, fall kind of flat to me. Harry has already experienced sexual assault and rape. The fact that the writers don’t seem to acknowledge Harry’s experiences in that context is disheartening.

From a character perspective, him not having a traumatic take away from those experiences doesn’t change the fact that he has had sex under duress. He told Asta that he had sex performed ‘at’ him and on him, ‘forced to watch’, in order to keep himself safe. I would argue that is already a very female experience, even if it isn’t an exclusively female experience.

I also found the start of Harry and Asta’s part of the story an interesting choice given the themes of the episode of Girl Power and pro empowerment. Harry tells Asta that as an alien he can alter human memories in order to suit his purposes. This is, on its own, a very frightening thing when you think about it. However, with the context of the episode it felt unnerving.

The story of Harry attempting to seduce a woman, taking her to his home, putting her into a trance like state (sleep), and then using her body (in Harry’s case in terms of shape shifting) feels awfully like an analogy for date rape. And I do think that’s the intention, Asta does seem to address this, but not directly. Harry argues the situation calls for it and Asta reluctantly agrees. So it’s this strange and awkward scenario that feels wrong when overlaid with the storyline of the women of Patience demanding equal pay and Harry learning that there is gender discrimination in society.

I don’t think that every story can be perfectly grafted onto real life, and sometimes what message you are trying to send and what story you are trying to tell can conflict. I get it. But it was an odd pairing of stories and I think that maybe because the theme was so front and center the whole episode it might have been better for the writers to come up with a solution to the Like-Date-Rape-But-Not plot line that more accurately reflected what was trying to be said. Or keep it, but make Harry’s experiences while doing it more emotional or impactful, and take the real emotional core of it seriously.

Also, they didn’t need to put Alan Tudyk in a pair of fake tits and put alien makeup on him, but they sure did and I guess I’m just tired of the whole men wearing ‘women’s’ clothing thing. Like, it’s not funny. There are men who wear ‘women’s’ clothes all the time and they are all living their best lives. I know it’s probably unintentional again, but it was boring.

All that being said, I am genuinely enjoying the show, I think I just wish they let themselves have hard and sad moments more often without it switching immediately to a joke.

EDIT: I rewatched a couple scenes as I had watched it fairly late last night. I will say, the lesson Harry learns about his actions in regards to the woman he was trying to seduce do land. Like, I don’t think they are poorly constructed, again, I just felt like what they were trying to say could have resonated more strongly if the tone was slightly altered.

#Resident Alien #I have many opinions and it's fine if people don't agree

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trashyswitch · 4 years

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Boo!

Jameson Jackson has discovered his natural ability to walk quietly, and scare everyone around him. So...he takes advantage of this!

Recently, Jamie investigated a fact about himself that he was sorta familiar with: he’s really quiet. Now, Jamie was well aware of how quiet he is. But what he didn’t know, was that he could scare people with his quiet nature.

There have been moments where Jamie is capable of walking into a room, staying quiet, and waiting for someone to realize and freak out.

He remembered one time a couple months ago, when Jamie was walking into Dr. Schneeplestein’s office. He remembered Schneeplestein being focused on his doctor notes, when Jamie simply touched his shoulder. Schneeplestein let out the loudest squeal he had ever seen, before shouting “VÖGELN” right after. Jamie had bursted out laughing at the reaction, and wounded up forgetting what he wanted him for!

Another moment occurred, when he was grabbing a snack from the fridge. Chase was leaning on the island, looking at his phone as Jamie opened up the fridge door. Just from the sound alone, Chase gasped, dropped his phone and hissed the word “Jesus” before laughing in embarrassment. Jamie signed the word ‘sorry’ over and over again, and even though Chase forgave him and laughed it off, he still felt slightly bad.

One of the best reactions, was when he had walked up to ask Marvin something. He had been just sitting on a chair, watching TV. He was surprised that he hadn’t seen Jamie coming from the TV. One simple hand on the shoulder, sent Marvin flying! He jumped right off the chair, and yelled a mixture of giggles, mumbles and curse words. The only words that could be understood properly, were the words Jackie let out right after: “WHAT THE FUCK REACTION WAS THAT?!”.

The truth was, there was another fact no one really knew about Jamie: the dapper boy really liked hearing people’s laughs. So, Jamie’s ability to scare people, also made laughs come out of the reactions. So, Jamie decided to take advantage of this talent. Every time he would try to get someone’s attention, he would tickle them to get some laughter out as well. So, Jamie waited for the perfect day...

One day, it came! From the moment he woke up, Jamie knew: he wanted to tickle some people. So, he set off around the house, looking for his first victim.

The first person he had found, was Marvin in the living room. Jamie senses the magician would be here, as this was his favourite spot to hang out. He was currently reading a biography on what looked to be Harry Houdini upon first glance. So, Jamie snuck up behind his chair, and...

Squeezed his stomach on both sides!

Marvin let out a squeal. “EEEEEK! NOHOHO! MYHY BOHOHOHOOK!” Marvin shouted through a newfound laughing fit. Jamie didn’t remove his hands, but instead worked themselves up to the sides of his bony ribs. As soon as the first row of ribs was felt, they were pushed and scratched with a pair of curious fingers. “WHOHOHO’S TIHIHIHIHICKLIHIHING MEHEHEHEHE?!” Marvin shouted, before running forward right off of the chair and onto the floor.

After letting the 5 second giggle fit pass, Marvin looked up and noticed who it was!

“JJ...I should’ve known...” Marvin muttered.

‘Surprise!’ Jamie signed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, surprise and whatever...why?” Marvin asked.

‘Your laugh is cute.’ Jamie replied, signing the word ‘cute’ by placing the index finger and middle finger on his chin, and pulling his two fingers down into his hand, like a loose fist.

Marvin froze for a moment, unable to take the compliment at first. In an attempted reply, Marvin could only whine and cower in embarrassment. Though, he could only cower for so long, because Jamie had soon ran over, uncurled the magician and started tickling him further.

“GAHA! Hahahaha! Jahahahamie! Cohohohome ohohohon!” Marvin said through his giddy laughter. To help with the attack, Jamie took Marvin’s magic wand, and pulled the white lid off the top. Suddenly, a bunch of feathers popped out! This was supposed to happen, since the wand was designed that way. Jamie had decided to take advantage of this design choice, and wiggle it in the air for Marvin to see.

Marvin whined. “W-ait! Ple-please...not that...” Marvin begged.

Jamie tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy. Instead of asking the question ‘why’, Jamie started shaking it lightly in front of him, to check for a cat toy bell. Hilariously, there was one! Jamie giggled at a thought that went through his head, before deciding to try it. He tried teasing Marvin with the wand above his head, treating it like a cat toy.

“Dude, I’m not a cat-“ Marvin said, before falling into a curious trance. His eyes dilated bigger, as he stared intently at the feather toy. When Jamie moved it left and right, Marvin would follow it wherever it went. When Jamie shook it above him, Marvin would giggle with a toothy smile. When the feather was brought up and down, Marvin would follow it up and down as well. And, Jamie even booped Marvin’s nose with it! Marvin in response to the nose boop, ended up going cross-eyed to see his nose. This made Jamie laugh.

‘You’re a little kitty!’ Jamie reacted.

“No I’m not.” Marvin replied, obviously lying.

Jamie nodded. ‘Yes you are.’ Jamie told him.

“No I’m not.” Marvin repeated.

Jamie shook the wand. ‘You really are.’ Jamie reminded him.

“Am not- Hehehehey! EEEEK! Stahahahap thahahahat!” Marvin tried to argue, before bursting into more laughter. Jamie had managed to catch him in his argument by wiggling his fingers on his belly.

“Aww! Does the little kitty want a belly rub?” Jamie asked, pulling out his dialogue slides to tease him further.

“Whahahahat?! Ihihi’m nahahat aha kihihihitty!” Marvin argued through his giggles.

Jamie narrowed his eyes and smirked, before giving his mask a couple pokes.

‘Cat mask.’ Jamie signed, before grabbing and shaking the feather wand in front of his face again. Jamie pointed to the feather wand, and pointed at the cat mask. ‘Cat.’ Jamie concluded.

Marvin, utterly embarrassed that Jamie was calling him out on his cat-like antics, started looking away from him. Jamie, feeling slightly bad, tapped him on the shoulder, and grabbed his face lightly to get him to look at him.

‘You are cute.’ Jamie started with a smile. Marvin let a slight smile appear on his face as well. ‘Cute is good.’ Jamie told him, fluffing his hair before getting off of him. After helping Marvin back into his feet and picking up his book for him, Jamie walked away and looked around for his next victim.

After a bit of walking, Jamie soon found his upcoming victim: Jackieboy Man. Jackie was currently practicing climbing in the climbing corner, set up on the top floor of the house. The climbing corner consisted of different types of monkey bars, surrounded by nets and mats to save a person if they fall. Jamie hid behind a patted pole, and watched as Jackie climbed from one side of the room to the other, using ropes onto monkey bars! It was very impressive to watch.

Soon, Jamie’s opportunity arose when Jackie had grabbed a red, spinning, wheel bar. Jackie was currently spinning on it with his back (unknowingly) towards Jamie. The dapper boy let a smirk grow into his lips as he jumped out of his hiding spot, before taking off in a quick sprint. He sprinted as quietly, yet as swiftly as he could. With Jackie’s body getting closer with every step, Jamie took a risky leap and got ready to tackle the superhero down from behind.

Suddenly, Jackie felt a load of...someone hit him from behind! Completely unexpecting it, Jackie let go of the wheel bar and allowed himself to fall onto the mat. Despite not expecting the fall, Jackie still landed onto the mat, in the classic superhero landing. Jamie managed to land safely as well, but no landing could truly prove its elegance like Jackie’s did. Despite that though, Jamie grabbed his feet in one arm, and start untying the shoelaces.

“HEY! Who the hell do you think you are?!” Jackie yelled, attempting to kick and wiggle his feet out of the person’s grip. It didn’t take long for his shoes to come falling onto the mat. Soon, Jackie’s yelling was replacing itself with giggles, while his kicking was turning into squirming.

“Let go of me! Lehehe-AAHAHA! NOHOHO! Dahahahamn ihihihit!” Jackie yelled through his laughter. It didn’t take long for Jackie’s mat to be assaulted with his fists as he laughed and attempted to pull his feet away. But, Jamie wasn’t letting go. He knew how much strength Jackie was capable of, so he wanted to see how much he can weaken the man with tickles alone. So, he paused his fingers, placed his hand out and let his appearing magic do its thing. Suddenly, a cloud of dust filled his hand. Once the dust had faded, Jamie smirked at the item in his hand.

A tripod-shaped mini massager.

Jamie just knew that this was gonna tickle like hell! So, he clicked the button on the top and let it vibrate.

“OOOOOH GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!” Jackie shouted, utterly terrified to find out. Fortunately, Jackie was find out a lot sooner than he thought. Not even a second later, Jamie placed the vibrating massager onto his feet. “AaaAAAAAH! DOOOOHOHOHOHOHON’T!” Jackie shouted. Jamie’s smile grew wider as he moved the massager towards his heels. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE DOHOHOHOHOHON’T!” Jackie shouted further. After a bit more time spent at his heels, Jamie moved the massager up up up, to his toes! “EEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jackie shouted, completely controlled by his own ticklish laughter.

To top it all off, Jamie decided to bring one of the massager legs onto the big toe, and drag it down to the baby toe. When it reached the baby toe, he would drag it back up to the big toe, and start again. It was like he was playing the 5 piano keys C, up to G and right back down to C again. It was this action, that caused Jackie’s laughter to go silent. Jamie took this as a sign to stop. He turned off the massager and placed it aside, before laying himself down beside Jackie, to reveal himself.

“Hmm, it was you...you’re lucky I’m exhausted, because otherwise I’d be pounding you right now.” Jackie told him, laying down. Jamie gave him a crooked smile, and sat back up to walk away.

Now, he was onto his next target. He knew just where to go, to find him: the studio. Shawn was always hanging out there. He was always painting things and doing crafts in there. Jamie opened up the door as quietly as he could, and managed to get in without getting his attention. Then, Jamie slowly and quietly, started walking up to Shawn, in his chair and surrounded by his desk of supplies. When he got up as close as possible, he very quietly peered over his shoulder, and noticed him painting. Not wanting to mess up his painting, he decided to wait a bit till he took a break.

2 minutes passed

5 minutes passed

Soon, 10 minutes past. Finally, Shawn placed his brush into the water cup to soak, and laid back in his chair to take a break. He stretched his arms out, before resting his head on his hands. It was here, that Jamie decided to strike. He slowly reached his hands around the sides of the chair, and...gripped his sides.

“AAAAAAH! WHO-“ Shawn yelled, before turning his body around to see who was behind his chair. Shawn’s eyes locked with Jamie’s. It was only for a few moments. Then, Jamie gave Shawn a toothy smile, before wrapping his hands around Shawn and spidering his belly. “HEY! Nahahahaha! Jahahahahamihihihie!” Shawn said through his brand new giggles. Jamie’s toothy smile widened, as his ears absorbed the laughter and processed it excitedly. Shawn rarely laughs, so this was a rare treat!

Suddenly, before Jamie could stop it, Shawn pushed himself back, and made both the chair and his body come crashing onto the floor. The chair, surprisingly, didn’t break! And unsurprisingly, Shawn didn’t either. For Jamie, this was just a grand opportunity to cover him in more tickles! So, he did just that!

“Whyhyhy ahahahare yohohou tihihihihicklihihing mehehehehe?!” Shawn asked.

Jamie stopped his fingers for a minute, so he could answer him. ‘Your laugh is cute! I want to hear more!’ Jamie signed, before resuming his spidery tickle attack.

“Nohohohoho ihihihihihit’s nahahahat! Yohohohour lahahaugh Ihihis cuhuhuhuter!” Shawn argued.

Jamie froze. What did that man just say?

‘You...think my mute laugh is cute?’ Jamie clarified, unable to believe such a thing.

“Uh, ya! It’s so adorable!” Shawn reassured.

‘But-‘ Jamie signed, staring into space as he struggled to process such a thing. ‘...I don’t have a laugh.’ Jamie reminded him.

“Mmm...maybe not, but...you do have reactions. And those, are much more adorable than any laughter your voice could ever create.” Shawn replied. Jamie could feel his cheeks glowing a light red. It didn’t take very long for Jamie’s hands to come up and cover his mouth. In pure embarrassment, Jamie decided to give his hands something to do. He removed his hands from his mouth, and started squeezing and wiggling his fingers all over Shawn’s belly.

“Hehehehey! Juhuhust behehecahahause yohohou’re embahaharrassed, dohoesn’t mehehean yohohou get toho tihihihickle mehehe!” Shawn argued through some more laughter.

Jamie rolled his eyes with a smile, and stopped his tickling to continue signing. ‘I have the best visual reactions! But you! You have the best auditory reactions!’ Jamie declared, before continuing to tickle and squeeze.

“Nohohohoho Ihihihi dohohoho-AAAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! JAHAHAMIHIHIE NOOHOHO!” Shawn suddenly shouted amidst his protests. Jamie gave Shawn a little smirk as he began digging his fingers, specifically his thumbs, into the artist’s hips. Shawn’s giggles had turned into howling laughter, and his subtle squirming had become super frantic! He practically became a human-sized wiggle worm!

Jamie grew wide-eyed before hopping onto his friend. He didn’t quite expect the man to be such a squirmer! So, he steadied himself on Shawn’s waist, and started to squeeze one hip with his right hand, while squeezing his left side with his left hand.

“STAHAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHIHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHUHUCH!” Shawn shouted, attempting but failing to curl in on himself.

“Vhat’s vizh all zhe noise??” Someone said through the open door. Shawn paused his hands, and turned around. He recognized the accent. Sure enough, it was Henrik.

‘I’m tickling Shawn.’ Jamie explained. Henrik chuckled and scratched his forehead.

‘Vhy?’ Henrik asked both amused yet confused at the same time.

Jamie pointed at Shawn. ‘His laugh is cute! Therefore:’ Jamie said. Immediately after signing the last word, Jamie shoved his fingers back into Shawn’s hip and side, and started digging and squeezing once again. Shawn abrupted into even more laughter!

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! MYHYHY LAHAHAHAUGH IS NAHAHAHAT CUHUHUHUTE!” Shawn argued through his laughter.

Jamie nodded his head, and looked towards Henrik for agreement.

“Oh my god...I mean, he’s not wrong. Your laugh is cute.” Henrik told him with a smile of his own. Jamie pointed at him in thankfulness. He agreed with him! His laughter IS cute! However, Henrik didn’t stay for long. He soon decided to walk away from the doorway and head back to his room.

Jamie lowered his arm and shrugged his shoulders, before changing hand positions. His left hand was now digging into Shawn’s left hip, and his right hand was now squeezing Shawn’s side.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! JAHAHAHAHAMIHIHIHIHIE! IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T BREHEHEHEHEHEATH!” Shawn warned him.

Jamie could tell he was growing tired, so he stopped his fingers and hopped off the man.

“Heheheheh...th-thahahank yohohou...thank yohohohou...” Shawn said through some leftover giggles. Jamie smiled, and took the time to push Shawn’s messy bangs back in place. Then, Jamie walked away to move onto his next victim.

Jamie walked down the hall, looking at the door he was gonna open up. By now, the original idea of scaring everyone, was thrown out the window, and now this was just tickle attacks all around the house. Jamie opened the door to the Doctor’s room and looked to the left towards Henrik at his desk. He gave him a short wave.

“Hallo Jamie. Done tickling Shawn?” Henrik asked.

Jamie nodded.

“Great. I’m guessing it is my turn?” Henrik asked in a monotone voice, turning his head to Jamie. Henrik immediately noticed Jamie’s growing smirk, and started growing nervous.

“V-Vait a minute...I vas yust kidding! Ha ha funny Yokes?” Henrik asked, attempting to be cool and collected. But, Jamie was walking closer and closer to him. This drove him into panic mode. “Vait-VAIT!” Henrik begged, attempting to make up an excuse before it was too late.

Unfortunately for Henrik, it was already too late. Jamie had grabbed his reached-out arm with two hands, and pulled him into his arms.

“YAMIE! NEI-HIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NEHEHEHEHEHEIN!” Henrik yelled, bursting into hysterical laughter. Jamie began clawing and digging his fingers into Henrik’s ribs, and the spaces in between the ribs. “LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHOHOHO! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!” Henrik commanded.

However, Jamie was stubborn. He has refused to let go until he has heard a large amount of laughter from the man. Henrik was always so stressed. So, some laughter could definitely do him some good!

“ZHIHIHIHIS IHIHIS NUHUHUHUHUTS!” Henrik shouted further. Jamie tolled his eyes and shook his head with a smirk on his face. He paused his fingers for a moment and thought up a speech slide with dialogue on it. Then, he made it appear in his hand, before handing it to Henrik.

“‘This isn’t nuts. This is amusing’- Ey! Fuck you and your fuckin’ cards!” Henrik yelled, growing annoyed by Jamie’s antics.

Jamie let out a gasp. Jamie’s jaw dropped, and his eyes had narrowed to make a dramatic offended face. In reaction to such language, Jamie grabbed Henrik’s arms and lifted them above his head.

In one swift move, Jamie used his magic to tie Henrik’s hands together above his head. Next, he brought Henrik’s arms above Jamie’s head, and around his neck. Now, Henrik was stuck with his hands extended behind Jamie’s neck! And; arms in place and armpits exposed, Jamie skittered his fingers all over Henrik’s armpits.

“YYYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HALT! HAHAHAHALT! EHEHES KIHIHIHITZELT!” Henrik begged as much as he could through his laughter. His movements were somewhat restricted because of the position he was in. But, it didn’t stop the poor, ticklish doctor from squirming and wiggling as much as he could. “BIHIHITTE HÖHÖHÖR AHAHAHAUF! ICH FLEHE DIHIHIHICH AHAHAHAN!” Henrik yelled, reverting back to his native language.

Jamie’s eyes widened. That was A LOT more German than he actually knew! But thankfully, a translating dialogue slide managed to help him out:

‘Stop! Stop! It tickles! Please stop! I’m begging you!’

Jamie nodded in understanding, before moving back to the previous spot. Now, Jamie wanted to try the top, middle and bottom of Henrik’s ribs. Jamie moved down to the first couple ribs on the bottom, and clawed a couple fingers into it. “BAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! VAHAHAHAHAIT!” Henrik shouted, reverting back to Jamie’s English language. Jamie soiled at this. Strange how Henrik will go from one language to the other. It was kinda cute, actually.

Next, Jamie moved his hands up to the middle of the rib cage, and squeezed them. Henrik let out a loud high pitched squeal, before giggling in that same high pitch. After that amazing reaction, Jamie reverted back to the clawing strategy, applying it to the middle ribs.

“EEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA! ZUHUHU KIHIHITZLIHIHIHIG!” Henrik shouted, reverting back to German.

‘Too tickly!’ The dialogue slide read.

Jamie practically squealed at the adorable reaction! It was like he was tickling an adorable man-child!

To end things off, Jamie shoved his hands back into Henrik’s armpits for one more tickle.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEHE! IHIHICH BRAHAHAHAUCHE EHEINE PAHAHAHAHAUSE!” Henrik shouted one last time, staying in German.

‘I need a break!’ The dialogue slide translated.

Jamie nodded in understanding and stopping his fingers. He allowed Henrik to breath in as much air as he could, before pulling Henrik’s arms over his head and undoing the rope. Though, Jamie should’ve gotten ready for the fall, because almost immediately, Henrik’s exhausted body completely collapsed onto the ground.

Surprisingly, Henrik didn’t react in pain. He...bursted into more giggles! Was some of the giggles in his lungs blasted out from the sudden fall? Or was Henrik growing loopy from all the dopamine going through his head? Jamie couldn’t tell you.

Either way, Jamie scooped up the giggly man bridal style, and started heading down the hall to take him to his room. But, halfway through the walk, Henrik started leaning his head against Jamie’s arm and cozying himself into Jamie. Jamie let a little quiet chuckle leave his mouth.

“Mmmm...so comfyyyyyy.” Henrik mumbled in a baby voice. Jamie smiles genuinely, and turned the corner into Henrik’s room. There, Jamie slowly placed the man down onto the bed and tucked him in under the covers. But right as Jamie was tucking in the other side, Henrik decided to pull a Buddy Elf move and start a revengeful tickle fight right there.

Jamie squealed and curled away, as Henrik jumped out of his blanket and started tickling Jamie on the bed. Jamie only laughed, kicked and occasionally attempted to wiggle himself away. But, there was no escaping that doctor.

To make matters worse, Marvin and Shawn had followed Henrik’s laughter and finally found the pair in Henrik’s room. Noticing that Henrik was getting revenge on Jamie, they decided to join too! Shawn hopped up onto Jamie’s hips and started squeezing his sides, while Marvin came up to his ears and started lightly scratching the back of his ears.

By now, Jamie was squirming absolutely everywhere! He couldn’t get away from any of them! If he tried, he would be pulled back in and tickled again! And the crazy part? Soon, Jackie had found them and joined them. He ended up seeing if Jamie’s feet were ticklish. Sure enough, his toes were really bad!

And so...Jamie’s tickle fight was long-time overdue...But, it happened and that’s all that matters.

#ticklefic #lee!marvin #lee!jackie #lee!henrik #lee!shawn #switch!jj

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doctorcarson · 4 years

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introducing wheeler’s town doctor, GUS CARSON...

hi everyone!! my name is tara (she/her; PST) and i’m excited to write with all of you!! under the cut is a snapshot of who gus is and what she’s about as well as some fun random headcanons. content warnings for parental neglect, abortion, emotional abuse, infidelity, sexual assault, & murder

FULL APP // PINTEREST

&& basics––

full name: augustine carson nicknames: “gus” (do not call her augustine, you don’t want to know what will happen) or “doc” age: thirty-five sexuality: bisexual monster gender & pronouns: cis, she/her character comps: clytemnestra ( oresteia ), villanelle ( killing eve ), dolores abernathy ( westworld ), camille preaker ( sharp objects ), bellatrix lestrange ( harry potter )

&& history––

gus was the kind of messy chaotic kid who was always getting into trouble and no one ever really expected much of her. her dad was the town doctor, and he was a good person, but being one of the only medical professionals in a place like wheeler is a fucking hellish job, and therefore, the one positive influence on gus’ life was pretty much absent her whole childhood, leading to rebellion and anarchy.

everyone was therefore surprised when gus proved them all wrong and got a full ride to university of michigan. she was pre-med, finished early, started her residency at johns hopkins, and everything was on track for her to be a great and brilliant success.

until, of course, she fell “in love” – or as close to love as she’s capable of – with one of her fellow residents, accidentally got pregnant, lied about her abortion to spare his feelings, and then started sleeping with the senior resident because she was feeling so trapped in her relationship that she decided to burn it all down for fun

it all came out, as things are inclined to, and she naturally felt pretty shitty about her behavior (but not shitty enough to apologize ayoo) so she fled to aleppo in a doctors-without-borders type of situation with one of the head surgeons at the hospital. she, for once, felt good about herself and the work she was doing because it was actually meaningful and impactful, but.... nothing can ever stay easy can it....

hobbs, the doctor she was with in syria, was a shady character, and gus started picking up on that, but she had no proof. until she caught him sexually assaulting one of their patients in the triage tent. what a shitbag. and he tried to blackmail her into staying quiet, and she did stay quiet, but that didn’t mean she was going to do nothing. her moment came in a drone strike, and they both got pretty badly injured. gus could have saved him, but she didn’t. she sat there with him and watched him die.

gus was different after that. changed. like something slotted into place and now she finally knew herself and what she’s capable of. and while it wasn’t pretty, it did make sense. but before she could do anything with her newfound self-actualization, her dad died in a car accident back in wheeler on the day that cassie went missing.

she came home for the funeral and saw how badly her mom was doing. her mom, who never loved her, her mom who resented gus for ruining her life. early onset dementia plus intense alcoholism is never a fun combo, and gus’ first impulse was to leave. but then she realized: if she stays, her mother is indebted to her. if she stays, she’ll be the last person georgia carson ever sees. if she stays, she can do what she did to hobbs: watch him die and do nothing to save him. and that is the only resolution gus needs.

&& random facts––

can’t sit properly in a chair bc she’s queer

EPIC sweet tooth. bring her sour candy as a peace offering if you must

played soccer in college, her legs are fucking jacked

sleeps very little, drinks too much coffee because of it

total night owl

always running late

doesn’t have a car, bikes / runs everywhere, give her a ride if she asks for one or she’ll spit in ur drink when ur not looking!!!

gets way too much enjoyment out of making people look like idiots. don’t trust her any farther than u can throw her!!

is actually a good doctor, but has the literal worst bedside manner in the world. “sorry ur dying sucks 2 suck”

lost her phone in syria, hasn’t bothered buying a new one, is just going through burner phone after burner phone as though she has something to hide

VERY skeptical about religion, let’s get into some science vs faith shit!!!

has a giant tattoo of a snake on her back, you are LUCKY if you get to see it

fashion wise, she’s very utilitarian – short hair, no make up, and she will rANT AT YOU about the necessity of pOCKETS if you let her

while she has had a few epic benders, gus is def missing the addiction gene. or at least, her insatiable pit of a soul can’t be filled with booze or pills, but something far more sinister...

shes probably a psychopath but don’t make me put in the effort of diagnosing her just let me be flowery and pretty hannibal style!!!!!!!! (i say this facetiously and with no disrespect to the profession of psychology and psychiatry – if we’re being real, i’m writing her with psychopathic tendencies, but she does have a capacity for empathy, even if it’s small, and because she hasn’t been diagnosed, i’m not trying to diagnose her, but anyone who wants 2 chat about psychology and her psyche, hmu)

#{ about }#{ i was raised feral and i mostly stayed that way }#im prob not gonna be around until late but enjoy my sweet #my sweet sweet angel #(who is not an angel but is actually a DEMON)

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priorireverte · 3 years

Photo

Congratulations Marcia!

Your application for Cho Chang has been accepted, with the discussed changes about her working with the Returned. I can’t wait to see how Cho handles both those unstable revived and her own lasting trauma from the war.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Marcia, she/her

TIMEZONE: GMT+7

ACTIVITY LEVEL: My activity level is pretty fluctuative depending on how college is doing but since college is all online right now, I have lots of time to roleplay.

ANYTHING ELSE: Triggers: sexual assault. I’ve actually roleplayed Cho a few times so I’m quite familiar with her character!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Cho Chang

BIRTHDATE: 15 November 1979

DEATHDATE: -

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female, she/her, as far as Cho is concerned, she’s straight but she definitely has biromantic tendencies. She has been dating boys and men exclusively but has definitely had crushes on girls and women. She just never acts on them due to her own confusion regarding her sexuality.

BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

OCCUPATION: Currently unemployed. Previously before the Battle of Hogwarts, Cho was admitted to St. Mungo’s Healing program as their newest Healer-in-training. She worked overtime shifts after the war ended and found that she needed time away from her profession. She needed to re-evaluate her life goals, ambitions, and the things she really wanted to do. So she resigned and was planning on joining a non-profit group whose mission is to help Wizarding communities around the world rebuild when she heard of the Returned. She felt compelled to stay in England in light of recent news.

FACECLAIM: Jessica Henwick.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

POSTBELLUM:

Cho felt the war before it even happened, knew it was coming while everyone else closed their eyes to it. Its effects have not left her since the moment Harry brought back Cedric’s cold dead body. She mourned and mourned and fell into grief. Grief left unresolved and added to as the war swept through her and the people around her. As she watched the people closest to her lose and die. She tried to move on from the war. She attended the memorials and the wakes and then went home telling herself that she was okay. But found herself opening another bottle of alcohol instead. The first few months were the hardest. She cried a lot and could not even take time off from her work because St. Mungo’s was running at full capacity and she was not the only one hurting. So she bottled her unresolved grief up. The only solace during this period was the presence of her mother, a Muggle woman who could never fully comprehend the ugliness of a Wizarding war as she is so removed from it after her divorce from Cho’s father. Cho was urged to go to therapy, Muggle therapy. It worked, sort of. Even though she had to alter details of her story, of what actually happened, she found solace in confiding in someone, in taking medications. She’s getting better. She keeps a journal now where she writes her dreams and nightmares and all the good things that have happened to her thus far. Recently, she added three words to the journal, under the “Good Things” section: “Survived the war.” For now, surviving is enough.

When she first heard of the Returned, hope bloomed in her chest as she thought of the families and friends that could be reunited. This is a happy event, right? It’s practically a reunion! And she did feel happy. Joyful at such a turn of events. At the fact that death can no longer keep people apart. That the war, in the end, did not take so much from her. But then she heard of Cedric’s arrival, of the possibility of him being back in her life, this first love of hers. The boy she mourned and cried over, and she felt like keeling over. It isn’t that she does not want him to live again. It’s that how is she going to navigate life with him again in it? Is she going to pretend to never know him so that she can continue on peacefully? Or should she seek him out? See where things could actually lead now that he’s alive again? Everything is complicated and she does not know how to feel. Long long ago she lost him and grew up too quickly. But now he’s here again and has not aged a day and she’s a woman he could no longer recognize.

PERSONALITY:

Cho Chang has an innate curiosity within her, this want to know more, to stretch magic thin and find out what it actually is capable of. A scholar approach to things. She wants to combine and mix and concoct and see what comes out of it. A natural researcher, a born academic. When people see her, they see someone who is kind and good. Someone who volunteers to finish group projects when no one else wants to. A doormat. A bit of a well-meaning pushover. Someone that can easily be taken advantage of. But in actuality, she uses her kindness as a weapon, as her bargaining point. She extends and withdraws it in accordance to the attitude and respect people give her. Her friends say she has Slytherin tendencies and they are right. Even the Sorting Hat thought Slytherin would be good for her. Se cares too much about what people think. There’s a need within her to fulfil expectations and to present herself only in the loveliest of ways. She puts a mirage on herself. She’s not as open as she looks. She tells you one thing but holds back five others. But she’s a loyal friend who will push you to be better. She’s a good listener and adviser. She’ll never say “I told you so” and she never holds a grudge. She hands out second chances and gives people the benefit of the doubt.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Cho’s mother’s family is rich and posh. They’re old money and they have lived within the same neighbourhood in London for generations. Cho’s mother graduated from a respectable Muggle university with an art historian degree. She works as an art curator for a museum. Her father’s family back in Taiwan in contrast is very middle class. Her father moved to England for a better life, to be able to send money back home to pay for his sick father’s mounting hospital bills. He found employment in the Ministry for Magic and climbed his way up. He’s now a diplomat.

Cho’s parents divorced when she was five. She spent five days a week in her mother’s house, a Muggle townhouse bought by her grandparents, during her childhood. The other two days she spent at her father’s flat. Since her parents divorced when she was young, she does not have any resentment towards them for separating. After all, the two are fine as co-parents. What she finds burdensome about their divorce however is the clear divide between her magical and Muggle extended families and how she has to juggle the two. How she is forever stuck in the middle of Muggle and magical, rich and not rich, privileged and unprivileged.

But her parents are great overall. Her mother has a revolving door of boyfriends and her father has his work as a diplomat to drown himself in. Cho is naturally closer to her maternal grandparents than her paternal ones who live in Taipei and she only sees once a year at most. She’s an only child so she receives a lot of attention.

HISTORY:

Cho Chang’s formative years were pretty normal. She was born inside a Muggle hospital at the insistence of her grandparents and then brought home to the family’s townhouse in Kensington. She was one of those kids whose parents pampered them. They could not give her one big happy family so they made up for it by making sure that she was never without anything she wanted. She had toys and a dollhouse and a chinchilla. She had two bedrooms in two different houses, each one decorated with her favourite hue of blue. There was never any restrictions on what she could and could not do. She played with her cousins and the neighbourhood kids. She went to a Muggle elementary school when she was old enough. Learnt how to read and write, found herself entranced by language and literature, struggled at maths but excelled at science. And then she said goodbye to her Muggle friends and told me she was going to a boarding school when her Hogwarts letter arrived.

Her Hogwarts years were good too. The hat placed her in Ravenclaw and she enjoyed her time there. An uneasiness built up inside her however as everyone looked at her and called her pretty. They fawned over and she did not know whether they saw true beauty or someone exotic and different enough from them to gawk over. When she was the only girl admitted to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, she accepted it but found it odd that no other girl was good enough for the team. Nevertheless, she carried on. Charms and Potions were her strongest subjects. When it came to Transfiguration, she was so so. She focused on herself and did well and had fun with her friends. They’d hang out in groups and go to Hogsmeade together. There’s a spot on the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall meant just for her and her group of friends.

One day, Marietta Edgecombe pointed out that Cedric Diggory was staring at her. The rest was history. There were dates and a whirlwind romance. There was happiness. And then, everything was snuffed out. She played the part of the grieving girlfriend, emotional and weepy, and irritated her friends with her cries. Everything fell apart. Her grades dropped. Several professors kind enough to close their eyes on her academic incompetency gave her leniency. Professor Flitwick cautioned her about her grades and her career choices. She went to the library and had another cry and picked Healer. She dated Harry Potter and then Michael Corner. It was all a blur, just another Hogwarts boy to laugh about in the future. When graduation came she was so happy. She enrolled in the Healing program, became a Healer, and helped as much as she could with the war efforts. She went to Hogwarts for the Battle.

OOC EXPLORATION:

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I’m looking forward to the idea of Cho having to reverse all her grieving and mourning if that makes sense? Like Cho having to reconstruct her life again, to make sense of her trauma and hurt all over again. I also would love to see what a Cho-Cedric friendship or aftermath would look like after the war.

ANYTHING ELSE? Enjoy this playlist for Cho I made! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FaZMH55GqPSogRg07ju5H?si=4rM8UPiDTgyBbNisAS1vNw

#prioriacceptance #prioriannouncement #cho chang #admin.emmy

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anxiouslynumbme · 4 years

Text

Last Hope

Summary: It was hard for Ginny Weasley to find hope in the aftermath of the Battle Of Hogwarts. (Ginny and Harry never got together in HBP)

Warning: This story contains mature and explicit content. Such as: Cursing, Violence, Explicit Sexual Situations, Suicide, Rape, sexual harassment/assault, etc.

Available on AO3 and FFN.

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Chapter 3

"Do you see my problem?"

Ginny looked at Ron, brows knitted lightly. It's been two days since he told her they needed to talk, and he finally managed to get a minute alone with her.

"Not really. You want to go back to Hogwarts. So go,"

"Are you even listening? Harry is not going back,"

"So?"

"So? So, I-I can't just leave him,"

"You're not leaving him, Ron. You don't have to be together all the time, you know that, right?"

"Obviously," he huffed, "It's just that I might have sided with him about not going when we discussed it, Hermione clearly wanted to go back, Harry didn't, and I just agreed with him,"

"Was she upset?"

"No, even when I told her that I didn't really mean it and that I actually wanted to go back with her. She understands why I should stay with him,"

"Okay," Ginny sighed. "It sounds like you've already made your decision,"

"Exactly, sounds like it. I've changed my mind, though. And I haven't told either one of them,"

"Why haven't you told Hermione?"

"Because I know what she is going to say. That I should stay back and that Harry needs me," he smiled fondly at the ground. "She can be very understanding, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "Sap,"

"Shut up,"

"Here's my advice, Ronnie. You shouldn't make your decision based on Hermione or Harry, focus on what you want,"

It took him a minute before he answered. "I think I want to go,"

"You don't sound so sure,"

"No, no, I am sure,"

"Really? ‘Cause, not gonna lie, it's weird to hear you actually say the words, I want to go back to school,"

"I was surprised too!" He grinned, "I've really grown up,"

"Are you sure it's not just because of Hermione? Because it shouldn't be,"

"I mean, it's obviously a huge perk, but, that's not it, I honestly wanna go back. I miss Hogwarts, it would be nice to just have a quiet, normal year for once,"

"Well, you just jinxed it. It'll probably be your worst year yet,"

He groaned. "God, no. Don't even joke about that,"

"Well," she shrugged. "All you have to do is tell Harry,"

"I can't, Ginny! We've made plans, getting a flat, signing up for the Auror Training Programme,"

Ginny almost scoffed at him, knowing that there was a very high possibility that they wouldn't need to actually sign up. Especially Harry, if he asked for it, it would probably be given. She reckoned however, that Harry might not be so keen on that offer.

"Yeah, that sucks. But you don't really have a choice, though. Are you waiting for him to figure it out as you get on the train?"

"Ginny - "

"I don't think he cares as much as you think he does, I'm sure he'll understand and support you, even,"

"That's what he would say, I'm sure. It's Harry. But I know better. It's gonna be really difficult for him without us. And, It wouldn't be the same without him at Hogwarts, anyway,"

"Have you guys tried speaking with him about it?"

"We tried, it was Hermione mostly, trying to convince both of us. It was quite the long discussion,"

"I thought you said she was 'very understanding',"

He smiled. "Yeah, she was. After all the talking,"

"Sounds about right," Ginny chuckled, pausing a little in thought. "He'll be fine, Ron. Just talk to him,"

He hesitated for a second, seeming nervous. "Well, actually, I was thinking, maybe you could do it,"

"Do what?"

"Talk to him,"

"About you going back? That'll just make you look worse,"

"No, I'll tell him that. Maybe, you could tell him that going ba - "

she was shaking her head before he could finish,"No, no, I'm not telling Harry that he should go back to Hogwarts,"

"Ginny, if there's anyone that could get him to - "

"What happened to being understanding, Ron?

"I understand, believe me! But, I don't think he fully thought it all the way through, maybe you could - "

"Forget it, Ron!"

"Why?"

"You know as much as I do that once Harry makes up his mind, It's done. Also, you're just being like that because you feel guilty,"

"Ginny,"

"And I know how he feels! I don't want to go either!" she blurted out.

Ron blinked. "What?"

"I-I'm still considering it,"

"Ginny, I don't understand," his voice was small, trying to process what she'd said.

"I just - don't want to, I think,"

"Ginny," he started softly. "We've heard about what was happening at Hogwarts - "

"You don't know the half of it, Ron. Don't even try."

"It was much worse, wasn't it?"

She knew he wasn't waiting for an answer, so she just stayed silent, staring at his bedroom wall. She really hoped he wouldn't try to get her to open up.

"Ginny," he let out a breath. "Will you talk to me about it?

She wasn't surprised by his question, she gave him a sad smile. "Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know where to start, seriously, just forget it."

"Shit, Ginny, I - " he was staring at the ground, before he looked up at her, eyes blinking rapidly, "I'm so sorry."

She was a little taken aback by his reaction. "For what?"

"I wasn't there and I sh - "

"Don't. Don't do that!" she bit out harshly. She didn't need him, she never did,"First of all, there was nothing you could've done. Second of all, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, Ron,"

He had no idea just how capable she was.

"Whoa, don't get so defensive, Gin. I know you can handle anything, I was only saying - "

"Let's just drop it."

There was a quick knock on the door, Ron drew a breath, before calling out for the person to come in. A second later Harry strolled in, he looked at Ginny with a surprised smile."Hey, Ginny,"

"Hi, Harry," she grinned back. "Why did you knock? Isn't this kind of your bedroom too?"

"I thought Hermione was here," he said, walking over and sitting next to her on his bed, "There's been a couple of incidents," he explained with a shudder.

She laughed at the revulsion on his face, while Ron flushed at his remark. "Ron is blushing, Harry. Isn't that just the cutest thing?"

Harry smirked. "It's bloody adorable,"

"Fuck off!" Said Ron.

"Now Ron, watch your language, we all know your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate that, would she, Harry?" she said, her voice lilted with a teasing emphasis on the word girlfriend.

"You're absolutely right, Ginny. His girlfriend would probably rip his tongue out,"

"Exactly, though now that they're together, she'd probably just bite it off with her - "

"All right! Both of you, shut up!"

"Okay, let's talk about something else. Hey, Ron, don't you have something you want to tell Harry?"

Ron glared at her and she glared right back, Harry was confused looking between the two of them, she felt Ron needed the push, he might have actually been planning on waiting before he got on the train.

"What's going on?" Asked Harry.

"Nothing. Everything is brilliant, mate!"

"For fuck's sake, Ron, just tell him."

"Not now!"

"Then when?"

"Uh, tell me what?" Harry asked, his tone a bit nervous.

Ron sighed deeply, sending another glare her way."I - I want to go back to Hogwarts,"

Harry paused with a frown. "Oh,"

"Look, Harry, if you don't want me to - "

"What? No, Ron, you should go if you want to, it's fine," she knew Harry was lying immediately. She could tell the new information startled him.

"Harry, you don't have to - " Ron started.

"Honestly, Ron, it's all right, I was just surprised,"

"Harry, mate - "

"All right, I'll leave you guys to talk." Ginny said, moving to stand up, they needed to have a chat alone.

"Ginny is not going either!" Ron exclaimed suddenly .

Harry whipped his head around so fast to stare at her. She narrowed her eyes at Ron, he simply shrugged.

"Really?" Harry asked with a low voice.

She took a heavy breath. "Well, I'm kinda still mulling it over, but I'm most likely not going,"

she couldn't tell how he felt from his face, he simply just gazed at her, as if trying to find out her reasoning without asking. If she could still read him as well as before, she'd say he didn't know whether to be happy or worried. Before he could say anything, though, she stood up and rushed quickly to the door.

"I gotta go to Luna's, I'm quite late," she said with a wave of her hand. "See you later."

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She's been at Luna's for a few hours and she was glad to have come, she's really missed her friend. They've done nothing but eat and lie around and Ginny was loving it.

She was afraid it was still going to be tense and awkward after what had happened that night. They haven't talked about Luna petrifying her. While it all turned all right in the end, Harry was alive and Voldemort was gone, Ginny couldn't help but feel a little angry at her. She kind of understood why Luna did it, but that didn't stop Ginny from hating the feeling of utter helplessness and panic she had felt when that spell hit her, it was definitely a part of why she didn't speak to Luna as much afterwards. And Ginny most definitely did not want talk about the fact that she'd murdered a child, either. She was trying to block all of it out and put it far away with everything else.

"You keep adding the weirdest stuff to your room," she remarked, looking around Luna's bedroom and all the small, strangely shaped items covering the walls, Ginny truly didn't know what to call them. "By weirdest, I mean coolest, of course,"

"Of course," Luna smiled,"Nice save,"

"So. . .Hogwarts?" Luna then asked with a timid voice.

She groaned, "Thinking about this is driving me mad, Luna! I keep telling myself that I'm not not going back, but something is stopping me from fully committing to my decision, you know?"

"I think it means that the part of you that wants to return is stronger than you think," replied Luna.

"Yeah, it's persistent, that's for sure. But, I can't, can I? The memories, the nightmares are enough. It's a little hard to picture being there, just walking around, going to class,"

It all feels trivial, she added to herself.

"It's definitely going to be strange, but I believe there's a bit of hope in it as well, hope for the students and their families. A future after all the destruction,"

Ginny was frustrated, because Luna's words, much like Neville's, made sense in the grand scheme of things, but they didn't resonate with her. Not the mind or the heart. She suddenly felt a wave of anxiety swirl around her stomach.

"I hope you decide to come back with us, but I want you to know, I'll support it if you decide otherwise,"

That surprised her,"Really?"

"Ginny, I trust that you know your limits, there's no shame in taking time for yourself and focusing on your well-being,"

Something in how Luna put it didn't set well with Ginny. Shame? She wasn't ashamed. It wasn't great that she might decide on not finishing her education and graduate, but shame never entered her mind or her well-being, for that matter. Ginny didn't care about any of that, she just didn't feel the motivation to go back, she also wasn't keen on being surrounded by the phantom traumatic scenes on every corner of that school.

"Thanks, I guess," Ginny said a little awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit odd, "It's good that I still have a little time to make a final decision."

"Hmm, yes," Luna stroked her own hair calmly. "I'm really glad you're here, Ginny. You've been keeping to yourself a lot lately,"

"Sorry about that," She sighed, before changing the subject. "Is Neville still coming?"

"He said he'd try and stop by after he leaves Padma's," replied Luna.

"Right, Padma. I hope she's doing okay. Have you talked to her?" she felt a stir of guilt for not trying to reach out to her friend.

"A couple of times with Neville. I think she's getting a little better,"

"I don't really know how much better she could get, she lost her twin," Ginny said cynically, her heart aching as she thought of Fred and George, she put a palm on her chest to try and calm the sudden pounding.

"Eventually," Luna said, eyes facing ahead, "It'll be alright, eventually,"

Ginny didn't believe that, but she kept her mouth shut.

"She only opens up to Neville, he makes her smile," Luna continued, still looking away and not at her.

She knew about Neville's feelings for Padma, even before he did. Though, he tried to convince Ginny that he was very much over it and that they were friends and nothing more. She still noticed his longing looks, she also noted Padma taking an interest in the last couple of years.

"Well, that's good, I mean, at least she's talking to someone,"

"Yes," Luna's eyes wavered briskly, before turning to face her. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you talking to someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you haven't been talking to Neville or myself a lot, so, is there anyone you're talking to?"

She stiffened. "There's nothing I wanna talk about,"

"There's too much, I reckon," Luna replied. "I'm your friend, you can confide in me, Ginny,"

"Like I said - "

"For me, there's something I'd really like to talk about with you, what happened in the Forbidden Forest with Akkila and Harry - "

"Luna, stop. I don't want to get into this."

How could Luna think that she was anywhere near ready to even bring up that night. They were having such a nice time, chatting about practically nothing and only for a second, Ginny felt a tad normal again.

"I don't think it matters if you want to, Ginny. You have to,"

She sat up straighter, feeling agitated. " I'm fine, Luna,"

"No, you're not,"

"Excuse me?"

"I think you should see someone,"

"Someone?"

"Yes, a Healer. For counseling,"

"Luna, I'm handling it."

"I don't see the problem. You told me you've gone before, after the Chamber Of Secrets,"

Ginny stood up from her chair, "That was different, I'm older now and I know - "

"Age has nothing to do with it, Ginny,"

"I know that, I just mean - "

"If you think you're doing fine, why are you considering not going to Hogwarts?"

"Because - because, after everything, it's not exactly my favorite place in the world!"

"Which means you need to overcome what happened, which means you need help," Luna conveyed in a calm voice, a voice that Ginny hated when it was being used in an argument.

"How about you, Luna? Have you been going to a Healer?" she sniped.

"You know I don't do things in the traditional sense, Ginny. But, I have been going to my Seer and she's been really helpful,"

Ginny couldn't help the laugh that came out. "I'm sorry, but, a fucking Seer!"

"Yes," said Luna defensively.

"Aren't you kind of a Seer yourself? How is that helpful?"

"It's different, she's the woman I've told you about, she's known me for a long time. I tell her everything. No matter how small. She helps me. She keeps me calm,"

"Well, good for you," she took her wand out, turning from her spot quickly, more than ready to leave. "I gotta go, have a good night,"

"Ginny,"

"Good night, Luna."

"Okay," Luna inhaled softly and was back to staring at nothing. "Ginny, you should know, I have a feeling you shouldn't go back to Hogwarts."

"What?"

"I don't think it would be good for you,"

"Why?"

"Don't get me wrong. I obviously think you should finish school, Ginny. But if you refuse to get help first, you won't be able to handle it." Luna paused, looking back at her, eyes soft and open,"It's the truth, Ginny, I'm only trying to help, all I want - "

She didn't want to hear it, with a flick of her wand, she was gone and standing in front of the Burrow.

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Ginny hasn't felt anger in while, she knew she wasn't mad at Luna, a part of her knew she was right.

She couldn't stop thinking about what Luna said regarding Hogwarts. She didn't know what she was talking about, Ginny could handle it, she just didn't want to, didn't see the point, really. While Ginny was very stubborn, she wasn't dumb, she wasn't going to go back to Hogwarts just to prove a point to Luna and everyone else. She had nothing to prove. But that didn't stop the paranoid questions that were already bouncing around her brain non-stop for the past two months.

Was she being a coward? Was she being weak and pathetic? Overreacting? Unnecessarily sensitive?

Was she hiding?

A lot of people were at Hogwarts last year and they were fine, they were going back. No problem. They were excited even. Happy to go back to a place that only a few months ago, brought them nothing but fear, panic and death. She was sure that they were struggling as well, but they were pressing on. She was not, she was just alone in a corner and she couldn't understand how everyone else was hanging out in the middle of the room.

She was stuck.

And that was why, she abruptly realized, she had to go back. she wasn't sure if she ever really had a choice, she was fooling herself. Staying back wasn't going to help her move on or start anew, it was just pausing her life. Because she had no idea what she was going to do, if she chose not to finish school. All she knew was that she wanted to be far away from all the emotions it invoked, but that was the lazy way out.

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Ginny was on her way to detention. They were at War and she was going to fucking detention.

She could feel it all around her in the air, the War was here. It's been a little over a week since she'd started her sixth year, and believe it or not, that was not her first detention of the year, if you could call it that. She was serving detention almost everyday, and they were getting worse and worse every time. They were getting cruel and as she walked toward the classroom, she wondered what was Carrow going to do this time, how was he going to find new ways to make it more perverse. Amycus Carrow. A known Death Eater, she still couldn't believe he was actually teaching at Hogwarts, Defense Against The Dark Arts, no less.

Well, not so much the Defense part.

Ginny took in a shaky breath, preparing herself for what was to come after she's entered the room. She only hoped that he would just leave her alone and not try to come near her. She closed her eyes and admitted quietly to herself that she was scared. But she was also brave. And she could take him on if he tried anything. Well, She could die trying, at least.

As she marched in, she didn't notice him at first, she only noticed the three students standing in the middle of the room, far less than yesterday, Ginny felt dread settle in her stomach. She recognized all of them, two Gryffindors, third and fourth year, their names were Alice and Helena, if she remembered correctly, and Terry from Ravenclaw. They all turned to her, fear in their eyes.

She exhaled, Spotting Amycus in the corner, walking toward the front of the class.

"Ah, Weasley. A Sight for sore eyes," he said, eyes leering at her shamelessly, Ginny felt the dread in her stomach grow stronger as she walked to the rest of the students, without saying a word.

"All right, shall we start, you," he said pointing to Terry, "Be a good lad and Cruciate this lovely thing, she's been very bad," he smiled pointing to Helena.

Everything stilled. She heard the gasps around her, as her body tensed. She knew it was going to be bad, but her mind couldn't process what he'd said. It had to be a sick joke, but his maniacal laugh didn't come, he just stared at them, eyes black, gleaming with excitement.

"What?" Terry's voice was filled with shock as Helena took a step backwards.

"I think you heard me just fine," Amycus drawled, his grin wide.

"He is not doing that!" Ginny glowered, stepping forward.

"Sure he is."

"No, he's not! I'll tell -" Ginny began.

"Tell who?" Amycus laughed. "Snape knows and even if he didn't, he couldn't stop me, if he wanted to,"

"How do none of you get this?" he spoke with a giggle. "I make the rules, we're in charge, you should be thanking me, this is the best way to teach someone a lesson,"

"You are insane! We are not going to torture each other," Ginny raised her voice.

"Weasley, you know better than to talk to me like that,"

"I am not doing it." Terry said, his voice hard.

"Yes, you will, or suffer the consequences,"

"I don't care," Said Terry.

"Very well. I'll do it to both of you then." Amycus said, and before anyone could blink, he was aiming his wand at Helena. She fell on her knees, crying out.

"Stop!" Ginny, Terry and Alice shouted in unison.

"Gladly," he turned his wand on Terry, who dropped down next to Helena yelling in pain alongside her.

Ginny immediately extracted her wand, which, she thankfully still had on her. "Expelliarmus!"

The Curse stopped, as Amycus' wand flew to Ginny's palm. The room was silent, the only noises heard were Helena and Terry wheezing and gasping painfully. Amycus' eyes were murderous, looking through her.

"Everyone out, I need to have a chat with Weasley." when everyone stayed frozen in their place, the two on the floor, trying to hold in their groans of pain, he repeated with a shout. "Out, or I'll hang you till dawn!"

Ginny and Alice hurriedly bent down to help Terry and Helena stand, then all three stumbled and scurried out of the room, leaving Ginny standing alone facing Amycus, she tried to breathe in calmly. Amycus hummed, advancing on Ginny and stopping in front of her. She met his eyes, head on, raising her chin in challenge.

"That was a very stupid move,"

"Sorry, I just didn't feel like watching my fellow students screaming in pain. I don't know what's wrong with me,"

"Ha! Oh, Weasley," he said, circling around until he was behind her. "You intrigue me so,"

She tried not to visibly flinch, especially when he leaned in and took a whiff of her hair as he touched it. She didn't want him to know that he was making her uncomfortable, knowing that he might actually like that and it would just get worse. It was different, she noted his invasive creepy stares, but he has never dared to stand so close, to actually touch her, her fists clenched by her sides, ready to fight.

"You know, I don't remember you being this lovely," he inhaled, talking about the time he dueled her after Dumbledore's death,"You're a gorgeous little thing, Ginny,"

His breathing down her neck was nauseating enough, but the way he spoke her name, hissing it in her ear, knowing full well the disgust that it would cause her, was panic inducing. Her instinct pushed her fear away and kicked in her gut as she wrenched herself away from him, twirling to face him with a growl.

"That's a very inappropriate thing to say, Professor."

His freaky smile didn't falter, if anything, it broadened. "Just making an observation,"

"Still very much inappropriate. Don't talk to me like that,"

"I'll talk to you however way I want to," he sneered.

"No, you won't!" the vicious look that took over his eyes, almost made her take a step back.

"You keep talking back, Weasley, it seems you still don't understand what's happening here. Don't make me kill you so early in the school year, you know I'll do it. Do as you're told."

"I highly doubt I'd be doing that. Plus, from what I've experienced, your methods of teaching - punishing will kill us all, anyway,"

He shrugged, "Not really my concern. It is very effective,"

"It's twisted and vile,"

"And effective," he repeated with a menacing smile. "you'll get used to it,"

"No, I won't - we won't. And we definitely shouldn't have to!"

"Just stop it. You're wasting your time and much more importantly, mine,"

"I will not stop. None of us will."

"Now you're just asking for it,"

"You will lose, you know that, right?"

"Lose what?" he inquired with a mocking grin, feigning ignorance.

"Everything," she replied bravely, not caring about what was inevitably coming her way from him."And if you think that you can just take over Hogwarts without a fight, then you're even dumber than I thought,"

"Careful Weasley," he snarled. "Your beauty can only get you so far,"

He raised a hand and Ginny felt his wand, which she forgot was still with her, twitch in her hand and flying over to its owner's open palm.

Wandless magic.

It was something that Ginny strongly wanted to achieve and was well aware how difficult it was. Few witches and wizards were able to do it. She was already better than most with non-verbal magic and knew that wandless magic was something she wouldn't stop trying to perfect. She shouldn't have been surprised that Amycus could do it, he was a Dark Arts master.

"Now," he said with glimmering eyes."for your punishment, I was hoping for something a bit more. . . enjoyable and creative, but I'm just too heated for that,"

And then she was on the ground, trying to hold in her screams as the Cruciatus hit her, her wand falling from her grasp and rolling away from her. Everything in her body stopped functioning, all she could fathom was the pain.

"Ah, that's more like it,"

She could barely hear her own wails, let alone his voice, she wasn't sure her ears were even working. She wanted to die. Anything to stop the pain.

She didn't know how long she was under the Curse, but she was sure it was far longer than she could endure, at some point she thought she saw him sitting down with a book in his hand, she didn't know if that was a scene that her brain conjured up. After what felt like days, she could make out the shadow of his body through her tears, swaying toward her.

"Well," she could vaguely see his figure through her blurred vision. He knelt, taking her wand in his hand and shaking it at her."I'll be holding on to this for the time being,"

Ginny felt the curse stop, but it didn't matter, the pain stayed, wrecking her body, shaking her in waves, as she convulsed uncontrollably.

The last thing she saw before she passed out was the foggy image of his sadistic smirk.

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That had been the first time the Carrows used an Unforgivable on students. She wished she could say that was the worst of it, that they couldn't find even more fucked up ways to torment them.

"Ginny,"

She almost jumped at the voice, turning around quickly to look at Harry, standing behind her. When she arrived hastily outside of the Burrow instead of her room, she decided not to go in and just sat down, crossing her legs, staring at the sky, lost so much in thought, she didn't hear him come up to her.

"Harry,"

"What are you doing out here? I saw you from the window," he asked, seating his body down next to hers.

"Oh, you know, thinking," she told him softly.

"About?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased.

"I very much would, yes," he smiled.

She sighed. "Hogwarts,"

"Hmm," he waited for her to carry on.

"I'm still a little unsure about the whole not going thing, for some reason I can't stick to it,"

"Yeah?" his gaze left her, his fingers brushing the grass.

"Yeah, Luna and I sort of fought about it."

"She wants you to go, I get that,"

"No, actually. She thinks I shouldn't,"

"Really?" his eyes widened suddenly in fear. "What if she saw you? Something bad happening to you?"

She couldn't help but smile at that, she and Harry both never believed in those things, but they've both witnessed Luna being right quite a few times over the years to ever be completely skeptical about it.

"I don't think that's the case, don't worry,"

He gave her a look, "I'll always worry,"

While it was implied, she appreciated that he didn't say worry about you. He knew how much that pissed her off, seemed like he was learning from the past.

"Tell me about it. You need to relax, Potter,"

"You're one to talk," he snorted.

"Oh, please, I don't worry nearly as much as you and you know it. I'm breezy and fun,"

"That's True, but you can get a bit paranoid, don't try to deny it,"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"I said a bit," his smile was teasing.

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't know what the word relax means,"

"Well, that's pushing it,"

"Harry, I taught you how to have fun,"

He grinned. "It was the other was around, I think,"

She released a small laugh. " Have you hit your head recently? We've established this, you're the definition of angst,"

Harry rolled his eyes, his grin still very much present."Not this again,"

"Yes, this again," she nodded, smirking at him, singing a familiar melody. "Oh, Harry, angsty Harry, he is an angsty boy, all brooding - "

"Ginny,"

"No joy, ohhh Harry,"

"Please stop,"

"You know how it goes, Harry, sing along," she urged him. "Oh, he is an angsty boy - "

He reached out and put a hand around her mouth, "Ginny, I swear,"

The laughter and happiness his eyes were directing at her were familiar, as was his touch. However, none of that eased the tightness in her limbs, the tension that she could feel filling the air around them. His smile dropped, his eyes boring into hers with a mix of yearning and sadness, slowly he slid his hand away from her lips, before clearing his throat and looking away.

"So, what did she say?" he asked after a tense moment.

"What?"

"Luna,"

She sighed, "Nothing I don't already know or thought about a thousand times before,"

"Still staying then?" she could detect a hint of hope in his voice.

"Harry, there must be a reason why I'm so hesitant, I think I have to go, "

"You don't have to, if you don't want to,"

"Is that really how it is? School is a must, right? Whatever it is I'm dealing with doesn't matter,"

"Of course it matters, Ginny. Things are different with us, our lives have never been exactly normal,"

Harry knew her well enough to know she was doubting her strength. But, she still didn't want to bring attention to it, she didn't want to vocalize her thoughts of fear and weakness. So, she took a slightly safer approach.

"Say I don't go, then what? I have nothing planned,"

"Anything you want, you could take some time off, think about things. You could look for a flat, you've always wanted to live on your own,"

She laughed. "I'd need to get a job first for that."

"Then get a job,"

"Harry! What job? The best thing I could hope for without graduating, is a Waitress,"

"No, no, try out for the Harpies, like you've always wanted to! They'd take you in a heartbeat,"

"Or, I could sign up for the Auror Programme with you,"

When she was met with silence, she turned to him, observing, lifting her eyebrows, daring him to say anything on the matter, but he wasn't looking at her, his brows were furrowed as he stared ahead.

"Harry?"

"Right, sorry. It's just that you've always wanted to Play professional Quidditch,"

"It's one of the things I'd love to do, sure. Just like you would. Why do you always do that when I bring up me being an Auror?"

A part of her knew why, but she didn't want to acknowledge it, because then she would get angry, and she didn't want to fight with Harry.

"Do what?"

"Harry," she gave him a knowing look, "You know, acting all dodgy and fidgety,"

"I don't do that, I've never done that,"

"Off the top of my head, during the summer before my fifth year, I think. Remember, we were talking about the future and shit, you were acting weirder than usual,"

"I don't remember that," he said in a way that instantly let her know, he definitely remembered. "How would you even remember that?"

"Oh, Harry, ever the terrible liar,"

"I am not!"

"Oh, so you're a good liar?"

"You know what?" his smile was wide and his eyes bright. "If I were a liar, I'd be a good one,"

"Yeah, you're not, though,"

"Whatever you say, Weasley," it was a moment, before he started talking again, eyes a little nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "you could, uh, stay with me at Grimmauld Place for a while, when I move there, just. . .until you figure stuff out,"

Her heart started beating a little faster at his suggestion for some reason, before she realized what he'd said.

"Wait, weren't you going to find a new place?" she knew it was hard for Harry to stay there after Sirius. He told her, he'd take care of it, but he wasn't sure if he could ever live there.

"Yeah, but with Ron going to Hogwarts soon, it seems pointless. I'll just stay there till the year ends,"

"Harry, you should get a new place, I'm sure Ron'll move in just fine after he's done,"

"Yeah, I know, I just - yeah, I'll think about it,"

"You should, and I might take you up on your offer, and stay with you for a while, not that I wouldn't stay at Grimmauld Place, of course, it's very spacious, albeit, a bit dark. . ."

She broke off when she noticed Harry staring intensely at her, his breathing a little heavier.

"You - you'd live with me?"

She frowned. "Yeah. . .I mean, I thought you wanted me to, uh, I know we were talking hypothetically - "

"What! No!" he corrected her quickly. "Of course, I want you to stay with me. I just didn't think you'd want to,"

"Why wouldn't I?" she wondered with a smile. "Actually, I don't really blame you for thinking that, after avoiding you for so long. But, it doesn't matter anyway, I'm going back after all,"

"Ginny, no," Harry said in a voice that almost sounded whiny. "you just feel like you have to go, you don't want to,"

"Harry,"

"You already promised me a flatmate,"

"I did no such thing!" she said with a short laugh.

But Harry wasn't laughing, his eyes were earnest, locking with hers.

"Ginny," he started, his voice low. "I think it would be good for you to have some time away. It doesn't make you weak,"

With that, whatever peace they were having was gone, she hated that word, but what she hated more was how he pin-pointed her problem in no time.

"That is not what I'm worried about!"

"Then what is it?"

"I can change my mind, okay? I'm allowed to."

"Why did you change it?"

"I actually want to finish school, I want to be back with my friends," she answered with irritation, raising her body up to stand, "and it might get worse if I don't go!"

"What might get worse?" he asked urgently, following her to his feet.

"My life. . .me - I might get worse,"

"Ginny," his voice was thick with worry.

"Harry," she rubbed her face with a huff, "I'm done thinking. I spent the last two month going back and forth on my decision. And you know what's the one thing I realized, I don't even care! Go, stay. Who gives a shit!"

"I've got nothing else to do," she continued, not looking him in the eye. "I might as well go,"

"Do you think I should go back then?" he asked, folding his arms.

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?" she repeated incredulously. "I don't know, Harry. Maybe, because you don't want to go back,"

"That's not really an answer, Ginny,"

"Yes, it is,"

"I want to know, what do you really think about me not returning to Hogwarts?"

"I don't think anything about it,"

"Oh, come on!"

"It's a pointless question, Harry!" she argued.

"Not to me,"

"I Obviously understand your decision. I was thinking about it myself!"

"Right, so why is it understandable and okay for me not to go, but not for you?"

She let out a humorless laugh. "I never said it wasn't okay for me. I believe what I said was, I don't give a shit either way!"

"Ginny, will you please just - "

"Harry," she interrupted. "I said I'm done obsessing about this and worrying over it. Who knows, I might decide on the day, to miss the train. But for now, I've made up my mind,"

"Ginny, I - "

There was a sudden loud shriek from behind them that she was thankful for. They both wheeled around to check out the source of their disturbance, she could see from the window, Ron chasing after Hermione, who looked like she was dying of laughter.

She looked back at Harry to find him smiling softly.

"You know, I still don't how it finally happened," she informed Him. Ron probably would have told her at some point, and she knew for certain, Hermione wanted to tell her, but was probably unsure if Ginny would be available for a talk. She felt another tug of guilt.

Harry was nice enough not to comment on the fact that she would have known that tale from her friends, if she had talked to them more in the past two months.

So he just grinned and told her the story, by the end of it, she was laughing so hard. "Impeccable timing,"

"I know! I was about to hex them both. Seven bloody years and you choose now to snog it out,"

"You know, it's fitting that you were there for their first kiss, Harry. Were you there for the first love making as well?"

"Ugh, Ginny!" he jabbed her on the shoulder, his mouth curled back in disgust, he looked genuinely disturbed.

She laughed harder, both of them moving toward the Burrow, she was teasing him as they sauntered inside, joking and guffawing. Before she knew it, they were in front of her room.

"Anyway, I'm happy they finally took the leap, it was about damn time," she said leaning on her door.

He smiled. "I know. Though, it's been going on far longer than they even realize,"

She nodded in agreement, even though, Ron and Hermione haven't kissed or said anything about their feelings officially to each other before, those two have been in a relationship for quite some time.

Her gaze flickered back to Harry, he was already staring at her, his expression was unreadable, which slightly irritated her. Not for the first time, Ginny wished she could take a walk inside his mind.

"Well, I'm knackered," she said, opening her door and striding inside, "night, Harry,"

"Night, Ginny,"

Before she could shut the door, he called her name to halt her movements, his eyes wary.

"Are you sure? You've really made up your mind?"

Ginny, of course, knew what he was referring to. With determined eyes and a tone of voice that was a lot more assured than she felt, she answered him.

"Yeah, I'm going back to Hogwarts."

#hinny #hinny fic #hinny fanfic #Ginny Weasley #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry x ginny #luna lovegood #Neville Longbottom

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levirens · 4 years

Text

[fanfic] of flavoured names and coloured sounds (chapter 2 of 2)

Summary: "He doesn’t question it at first, the fact that sounds have colours and words have flavours. He grows up with it, grows up seeing powerful ruptures of colour when his mother plays the piano and softer, translucent bursts when the people around him speak. His father’s voice fills his vision with sombre oranges and lilacs while his mother’s is a pleasant mix of delicate greens, blues, and greys. The word father tastes like wet wood and the word mother tastes like the pumpkin juice the house-elves frequently serve him."

In which Draco just wants to know what colour Hermione's moans would be. He also wants to know if her skin would taste as sweet as her surname or maybe as intoxicating as her given name.

LINKS

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567740/chapters/56541799 FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13547597/1/of-flavoured-names-and-coloured-sounds

CHAPTER 2

Potter’s following him around. He had thought that maybe breaking the bloke’s nose and leaving him hidden under his own invisibility cloak would get rid of the nosy scarhead, but that had been a mistake on his part. Now he feels the other wizard’s eyes constantly on him, and if he had the same energy as last year, he would have teased Potter for having a crush on him. Unfortunately, the world looks substantially bleaker now, with his condition significantly impaired, and so he doubts that he would still find pleasure in his old shenanigans.

He concedes that nothing would look cheery when one has a skull branded onto their skin, directly connected to a megalomaniac hellbent on killing one of your classmates. Even the sweetness of the word cheery tastes like ash in his mouth these days, and he can no longer tell if what he’s tasting on his tongue from thinking of the word megalomaniac is the flavour of a kiwi or that of a pear.

Pansy seems to have recovered from their messy break up, shifting from pointedly ignoring him to constantly hovering around him and acting like a worried girlfriend. It especially annoys him as her voice produces some of the most monotonous hues he’s ever seen coming from one person, her only contender for the crown being his godfather and the former Durmstrang headmaster turned fugitive.

The great hall, previously a place where he would often get lost drowning in the seas of flashing colours, now looks like it is littered with gossamers of barely-there pigments. From where he’s sitting, he can see Granger and her two wanker friends whispering to each other. She’s arguing with them (real shocker that is) and he can see a look of irritation on her face being directed at Potter. He almost smiles at this, but then her eyes suddenly flit to meet his and, stupidly enough, he feels himself freeze at the contact.

She must realise that he’s been watching them, because she raises one eyebrow at him and doesn’t stop staring until the plates are magically being cleared from the table, even when he finally breaks from the intensity of her gaze and looks away first.

He knows this because every time he looks to check if she’s no longer staring at him, their eyes would meet before his would snap away to look back down at his mutilated food. It’s odd, not to mention stressful, because what he needs right now is for people like Potter and Pansy and Hermione Granger to leave him alone.

He has a mission that’s doomed to fail, after all, and he would rather stumble through that without those three constantly monitoring him.

Legilimens tastes like strawberry profiteroles and Occlumens tastes like Arabic coffee—they’re flavour he finds odd to associate with his godfather as he can’t imagine the man enjoying pastries and drinking anything other than unsweetened tea.

“I see your Aunt has taught you Occlumency,” Snape finally says, having spent the last three minutes trying to break into Draco’s mind. “Whatever it is you’re trying to achieve, Draco, trust that I am capable of helping—,” he begins to offer, but Draco cuts him off.

“I don’t need your help,” he grits out. “I was chosen for this. He trusts me to do this.” It’s a lie that he keeps telling himself, but Occlumency doesn’t work on one’s own mind and he can only pretend to believe the sham for so long—he knows that this task had been placed upon his shoulders as punishment for each and every one of his father’s failures, hand delivered by the Dark Lord himself, complete with the Dark Mark and a lovely death threat.

Suddenly, the older wizard begins throwing silencing charms all over the classroom, his tunnel-like eyes never once leaving Draco. “Do you even have the slightest idea how to cast any of the Unforgivables?”

Draco inwardly cringes. He had witnessed the Dark Lord performing all those spells, watched as subdued shades of navy blue intermingled with the green and red lights of the curses. Avada Kedavra had tasted like burnt meringue, the flavour not unlike that of Harry Potter’s combined name. Hearing the Dark Lord torture someone with repeated incantations of Crucio had assaulted his tongue with the taste of melting ice, more of a sensation that an actual flavour. Imperio, as he had come to learn, tastes like the air after a period of rain.

His mind had reeled at how innocent these curses had tasted on his tongue, when he could not even attempt to cast the Patronus charm, the purest of the spells in his opinion, as the incantation brought about a disagreeable fishy flavour. Expelliarmus he could manage quite easily, disarming people all the while savouring the taste of lemon sherbet on his taste buds.

“Can you conjure the Dark Mark, Draco?” Snape continues, either oblivious or uncaring that Draco had gone and retreated into his own mind. “Do you even know the incantation?”

“Morsmordre,” he easily answers, but his voice is barely above a whisper. He prays he never has to cast that spell as he does not particularly like the taste of rust on his tongue. When Snape does not respond to that, Draco turns away and begins to head out of the room, shoving the door open and fleeing from his godfather before the man can further prove to him how unfit he is to take on the role of a Death Eater.

Petrichor. It’s the name of the taste on his tongue as he leaves the Three Broomsticks, fake galleons tightly clutched in one hand and the feeling of guilt clawing at his heart.

(Upon inspection, he admits to himself and to himself only that the guilt wasn’t so much over what he had done to Rosmerta, but more because of the fact that he had stolen Granger’s ideas and used them for his own twisted needs.)

“Why are you slacking off on school-work?”

His physical desire to be with her is still surprisingly there, but he had demanded from the Head Boy that he change his patrol partner to no avail. Draco suspects that the Slytherin is aware that the Malfoy family is not in such a good place, as even the mention of his father could not change the mind of the older student.

“Leave it, Granger. It’s none of your business what I do.”

“It’s just curious, is all,” she continues, as if she hadn’t heard a word that he said. “Last year you spent four hours working on one Transfiguration homework, and now you’ve already missed two. Makes one wonder, what had happened over the summer that would warrant such a change—”

The minute his hands wrap around her shoulders, he regrets it, but not enough to stop himself from pushing her against a wall and invading her personal space. There’s an inch or two of space separating their faces, and he can barely stop himself from getting lost in the sea of her freckles. “I said leave it, you filthy Mud—”

“What’s so different about you now that you’d even pay someone to take your place in the Slytherin quidditch team?”

When she speaks, her breath hits him and overwhelms him with the scent of spearmint, presumably from her toothpaste. It washes out the dirty word that he had almost used on her, and before he can stop himself, he’s groaning in response to the stimulus. It startles the both of them, and he can imagine that the blush currently riding high on her cheeks is identical to the one staining his.

He pushes away from her, striding back the direction they came from and cutting the patrol short. He decides then and there that if he has to quit being a prefect to be away from her, he’ll do it.

The following week he has to listen to her describe her love potion. Amortentia, the word, tastes like overly ripe mangoes, just a good day or two away from rotting. He can’t even muster enough energy to be angry at the fact that he catches a whiff of spearmint, vanilla, coconut, and green apples when he passes by the blasted cauldron.

His tongue feels cold, but before he can cast the spell, the one that leaves Potter’s mouth replaces the ice with the slight heat of cumin. It’s a spell that he’s not familiar with, but when it hits him, he feels the gashes opening up on his skin as he falls to the bathroom floor.

It’s a queer feeling, being aware of one’s own approaching death. At first it fills him with a sense of dread, panic at the thought that everything ends there, but then as the blood drains out of his clothes to stain the tiles he’s lying helpless on, it takes with it all the regret, the hope, leaving him feeling numb as his life slips from his fingers.

His eyelids close, his ears barely pick up the sound of hurried footsteps, of someone crying beside him, and his tongue tells him that Vulnera tastes like red grapes and Sanentur tastes like sulphur.

He doesn’t know how she does it, but she sneaks in to the infirmary in the middle of the night and proceeds to spend ten minutes just standing by his bed, arms crossed over her chest, lips set into an angry line, and eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Crying for me now?” he asks, voice rough from disuse. “Save it for someone who matters.”

“He didn’t mean to do it,” she whispers back, sinking onto the chair beside his bed. “He wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I don’t care what he was trying to do, I was trying to kill him.” The lie comes easily enough, what with the Occlumency walls and the fact that he honestly doesn’t have a clear idea what he had been trying to do.

Hermione doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring, but the tears don’t fall from her eyes and he’s grateful for that. He wants to remind her that he’s the bad guy in her story, the same bloke who had looked at her like she was beneath him simply because her parents weren’t magical. One successful paired homework and a couple of times spent sharing a library table shouldn’t change that, shouldn’t erase what he was and what he is.

He almost wants to show her his Dark Mark just so she’d stop trying to act like he’s still got a soul hiding somewhere inside his body.

“You should sleep,” she finally says, after a long moment of just staring at each other. “Merlin knows you need it.” With that she rises from her seat, walking away from him. He panics at the sight, his mouth opening before his brain can register what he’s about to do.

“Don’t come back here, Granger,” he tells her. When she pauses her stride but doesn’t turn to look back at him, he clarifies, “Don’t come back to Hogwarts.”

The word tastes like burnt meringue on his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he finds himself talking, telling the old man everything that he’s done during the year, as if he would vomit if he stopped talking. He calls her a mudblood for appearance’s sake and actually laughs when Dumbledore asks him to not use that word in front of him.

Defenceless tastes like biting the rind of a citrus, bitter and unappealing. It’s a word that certainly does not suit the greatest wizard of modern times.

The promise of safety is a jumble of salty and bitter words, one in particular tasting like sardines and another like freshy harvested caviar. He rambles, lowers his wand, then the others rush in to bare witness to his incapability of becoming a murderer.

Albus Dumbledore’s wine-coloured pleas are answered by Snape’s sweet and smoky spell.

He quickly becomes intimate with the sensation of melting ice on his tongue. It’s when he spends most of the day torturing people that he feels the slightest bit thankful for his impaired condition.

It’s when he watches his deranged aunt torture her that he yearns the most for the colours to come back, to obstruct his vision so it would be filled with explosions of orange and teal and he won’t have to look her in the eye and face her judgment. He would much rather take the cold numbing his tongue than to look at her lying near lifeless on the ground.

Working as a double agent is beyond exhausting, but he’d sooner get killed than do nothing and allow the Dark Lord to win this war. It’s been three months since he had demanded from his godfather that he take him to the other side, for Severus to make him a spy not unlike the older man. For a moment, they had seized each other up, the both of them waiting for the other to turn out as a cleverly placed decoy to sniff out traitors amongst their ranks.

It’s been three months since he’s been allowed free passage into 12 Grimmauld Place, three months since his godfather had told him everything he needed to know in order to be allowed into the ranks of the Order, three months since he was stunned then questioned by Mad-Eye Moody while under a powerful dose of Veritaserum, unable to use Occlumency to counter the effects of the potion, and three months since Remus Lupin introduced him to the rest of the Order as their new spy.

Draco had tried to explain to Kingsley, Moody, and Lupin that Severus had been acting under Dumbledore’s commands, but the three of them had insisted that even if it were true, it would be too risky for Snape to keep working with them. Still, the clarification on what had truly happened that night at the Astronomy tower proves useful in that they relax just enough to start using the safehouse again.

He doesn’t see Potter even once during those three months, and he doesn’t try to ask them about his whereabouts. The less he knows about the Order’s plans, the better. He does, however, see the ginger weasel on occasion, and he does his best to not hex the bloke on sight.

It’s difficult, but he manages.

The concealment charm is just wearing off as he enters the house, closing the door behind him, when he hears and sees them; the sound of a piano playing invades his ears and colours his vision. The sound doesn’t come together to form music, just random notes here and there as if the person playing them is just testing out the keys. Still, it’s been too long since he’s last heard music and last seen the colours dancing in his vision, as neither he nor his mother have found much reason to touch the grand piano in the manor after he took the Dark Mark.

(It is, after all, quite difficult to indulge in music when Death Eaters are torturing and raping people just down the hall.)

He follows the sound further into the house and finds Hermione Granger sitting in front of the rusty piano. She looks up upon his entrance, her finger hovering over one of the keys, then their eyes meet. Draco mentally prepares a speech declaring himself their ally, but she surprises him by smiling.

“Hello, Draco. I was told I’d see you here,” she says, her voice causing the familiar pinks to flash before him. There’s a pang in his chest when he sees how translucent they are, barely there, and he regrets not enjoying the sights when he had the privilege to. “I must say, I was glad when they told me you defected, but I wasn’t exactly surprised.”

“Why’s that?” he asks, genuinely confused by her declaration. He moves towards her, placing a finger on the piano and swiping at the dust that had accumulated there. He reaches for his wand and performs a quick scourgify, moving to sit beside her. He sits on the very edge of the wooden bench, keeping as large as a distance between them as it would allow. He’s surprised she doesn’t jump up and slap him across the face for daring to sit next to her.

“You did save me that night, and you didn’t kill Dumbledore,” she says, a smirk playing on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes. She gestures to the piano and asks, “Do you know how to play?”

He’s slightly taken aback by the sudden change in topic, but he doesn’t show her his surprise, nodding his head in affirmation. “Do you?”

“No. You should play; I’d love to hear it.”

He should really be asking her where the others are, preferably Lupin as he has information to relay to them, but his hands rise and then his fingers are tentatively pressing down on a few keys. The colours instantly return, and with that he feels a surge of confidence that has him transitioning from hesitant strokes of the keys to the beginning notes of one of his favourite pieces. He plays for a while, closing his eyes and enjoying the dance of the colours behind his lids, and when he opens them again they seek her out as if on instinct.

The look in her eyes as they meet his has him cutting off the music, his fingers lifting from the keys mid stroke. The silence that fills the room as the last vibrations from the piano fizzle out is awkward, to say the least, and he finds himself wracking his mind for something to say.

She beats him to it by declaring, “I didn’t know you listened to muggle classical music. That was Chopin, wasn’t it?”

He nods, still unable to tear his gaze away from her. The words that stumble out of his mouth make it out of their confines purely on accident, only because he’s lost in the colour of her eyes—honey, harvested during the late summer. “His pieces have the prettiest colours.”

Confusion settles on her features and he wishes he could take it back, wishes he could fulfil his promise to his mother that he would never tell anyone about this but then again, he has broken more promises than he can remember, some that had been more detrimental to their well-being than admitting to someone that he sees coloured sounds and tastes flavoured names. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and he can barely stop himself from reaching out to smooth away her frown.

“What do you mean, they have the prettiest colours? Do you have synaesthesia?”

He’s already opening his mouth to explain but then her words register to him and he blurts out, “What? Do I have what?”

“Synaesthesia, from the Greek words sún meaning “with” and aísthēsis meaning “sensation”, is a condition wherein the synesthete, a term for a person who has the condition, is able to process data in the form of several senses all at once,” she explains, and he’s instantly taken back to their classes at Hogwarts, when her hand would shot up and she would then proceed to unload a verbal vomit of information unto all of them. “For example, some people can see colours when they hear music, or they can taste certain words. It’s a very rare condition, and most people who have it go on to become artists or writers.”

She must mistake his astounded expression as a response to her vast knowledge on the topic because she blushes and looks away. Draco, on the other hand, is experiencing something akin to euphoria. He has never heard anyone describe his little “talent” so accurately, sod it, he has never heard anyone describe it, period. In hindsight, he thinks he shouldn’t be so surprised that Hermione Granger, swottiest of swots, would know that something like this exists. That someone like him exists.

“It’s a muggle thing, then? I’ve never heard of anyone else in the wizarding community talk about something like this, and I’ve tried to research about it but nothing ever came up in my readings,” he tells her, staring at the colours his voice makes.

“I honestly don’t know,” she admits, looking back towards him and appearing somewhat sheepish, as if her not knowing everything is something to be embarrassed about. “What do you see?”

“I taste words and names. Everything has a flavour associated with them. I see bursts of colours when I hear music, and I see fainter, more translucent colours when people speak.”

“Words have colour, too? Right now, you’re seeing colours as we speak?”

“It’s not really the words that are coloured, it’s the notes that people produce when they talk,” he elaborates. Running a hand through his hair, he decides to reveal some more information to her, information that he had thought he would carry to the grave with him. “When you speak, you make pastel colours, mostly pinks and blue. They used to be so harsh and bright when we were younger, used to give me headaches every time you opened your mouth in class.”

“Is that why you hated me so much?”

He feels guilty in an instant, remembering all the things he said to her back then. “That was one thing, it was another thing that I’ve been told my whole life that muggle-borns don’t have a place in our world, but obviously you made me question that by besting me in everything except flying a broom.”

She laughs, a quiet one, but it makes him realise that she’s one of those rare people who have musical laughter. “What does my name taste like?”

Draco draws in a quick breath, quickly looking away from her searching eyes. He begins to question what he’s doing, sitting beside her, playing music for her, telling her the one thing he has never voluntarily told anyone else, lusting after her, wanting her.

(Falling for her.)

“Hermione tastes like Sauvignon Blanc and Granger tastes like green apples,” he lets out in one breath, overcome by a misplaced need to be honest with her in that moment. Before she can make a comment, before she can do something like reveal to him that she had somehow known his bias for green apples, he rushes to add, “I can’t taste it anymore as well as I used to, and the colours aren’t as vivid as they were before the Dark Mark. It dulled everything.”

He looks away from her, resolutely staring at the piano in front of him and wishing that someone would walk into the safehouse and put an end to this bizarre interaction. Talking to her has been the only good thing that has happened to him in months, maybe in years, but he’s overwhelmed by her and by his need for proximity. It’s ridiculous, wanting someone you had actively tormented for two years, wanting someone you had watched get tortured by your crazed aunt while you stood by and did nothing.

“Does it interfere with your vision, the colours?”

He frowns, turning his head to look back at her. “When there’s too many people talking, it used to throw me off a bit, but not ever since I got the mark.”

She looks pensive, her eyes unfocused before they look up to meet his confused gaze. “After this, what are you going to do about your aim?”

“Pardon?”

“The Dark Mark, it would fade once Voldemort’s dead,” she says, gesturing to his arm. “I can only assume that when that happens, the effects of the mark on your synaesthesia would also disappear or won’t be as potent as it is right now.”

He feels his chest tighten at what she’s building up to, feels something like hope blossoming there. It’s an emotion that he has almost entirely forgotten, and he’s not certain that he should be allowing her to fill him with such a thing when he had only planned to swing by and give information then be back out again in less than thirty minutes—

“What are you going to do when we defeat him, Draco?”

Severus knows what he’s doing or, at least, knows what potion he’s about to attempt to make. The man takes one good look at the ingredients laid out on the table, one good look at Draco, then wandlessly summons a quill and a piece of parchment. As his godfather writes, Draco begins the preparations for the brewing process, double and triple checking that he has everything he needs.

When he’s finished writing, Severus hands over the piece of parchment and leaves the hidden cottage without uttering a single word. When he peers down at it, he realises the man had just given him something that he would treasure for the rest of his inevitably short life.

There, in his trembling hands, are the potion master’s notes on how to successfully brew the concoction without ending up with a few missing limbs. The word Ashwinder tastes like coriander, squill bulb tastes like a combination of mayonnaise and strawberries, Occamy tastes like dried up carrots, and Murtlap tastes like the back of one’s hand.

He comes by again, nearly a month after his last visit, and this time Remus is there to receive the information.

Granger sits in the meeting, inviting herself into the table with a tray of tea for the three of them. He’s the only one with a cup that has a coaster and Remus eyes it with a smirk on his tired face. Hermione sits beside him, self-inking quill in one hand, parchment in front of her, and gives him an expectant look that he takes as his cue to start.

It takes him twenty-three minutes to finish relaying every detail he’d been able to cram into his head from the meetings he had attended, every drunken whisper, every careless slip of the tongue, he had shoved into a corner of his brain only to purge it all out right onto her messy notes.

His old DADA professor nods at him, tells him he should stay and finish his tea, then the older man is pushing away from the table and leaving the two of them alone in the old house. He performs a quick warming charm on his tea, taking in the decaying wood of the table while she worked on tidying up her notes. Once she’s done, she looks up at him and he takes the liberty of warming up her tea for her.

“Thank you,” she says, reaching for her cup and bringing it to her lips. “It’s already horrid enough when it’s hot, it’s just plain unacceptable when it’s lukewarm.”

He only nods. He doesn’t tell her it’s the best tea he’s had in nearly a month solely because she’s the person he’s enjoying it with. Not even the most expensive tea in the world would taste good when you have to drink it in the presence of other Death Eaters.

“The last time I saw you, you looked like you hadn’t slept in two weeks. That was two years ago and you still look like you haven’t slept a wink.”

Draco raises an eyebrow at this, gulping down a mouthful of the herbal tea concoction before answering, “The last time I saw you, you were being tortured by my crazed aunt with a spell that makes me feel like I’ve put a cube of ice on my tongue to melt. That was roughly a year ago and you didn’t look quite so good yourself then, Granger.”

“I was actually referring to that night in the infirmary.”

He rolls his eyes at her, plucking the parchment from her fingers and reading over her notes. “I know what you were referring to. It wasn’t the last time you saw me.”

“You’re right, I saw you last month, so I guess we’re both recalling our last meeting all wrong.”

He looks at her, watches her raise her drink to her lips to hide her smile. There’s mirth in her eyes and he’s almost foolish enough to think that she’s flirting with him, but he quickly kills the thought, crushes it underneath his dragonhide shoes and fires a hex at it for good measure.

“It was very nice of you to try and save me again, that night at the infirmary.”

“When will you stop assuming that everything I do is an attempt to save you—”

He’s used to seeing and hearing her cut off people mid-speech, usually talking over them to correct the way they’re saying an incantation or just to tell them that they’re wrong and she’s right. A couple of times, he had seen her walk away from the weasel during an argument, causing the ginger to splutter at her sudden departure.

He can’t recall a time when he’s seen her kiss someone to shut them up, but that’s what she’s doing to him.

Hermione’s lips are warm, probably from the tea, and they’re soft against his own. His eyes had closed from her sudden movement, bracing himself to get a much-deserved punch, and he doesn’t dare open them now. Her lips start to move against his and he answers in earnest, deciding he’ll enjoy it while it lasts and dissect every moment of this later, in the false safety of his own room at the manor. When he feels the tip of her tongue touch his bottom lip, he immediately grants her access, reckless in his need to finally taste whichever part of her that she’s offering.

She’s a clumsy kisser, using far too much force when she bites his bottom lip, and it’s the best kiss he’s ever had. Her tongue tastes like the tea they’ve just shared, with just the slightest hint of spearmint. When she moans, he answers it with a groan of his own, his hands finally moving to cradle her face. He feels her fingers toying with the topmost button of his shirt, popping the first three open and sliding her hands inside to touch the skin of his collar and the base of his neck.

She breaks away from his lips and trails kisses down his neck, starting at the corner of his mouth and ending at the hollow of his throat.

“Your toothpaste, it’s fennel, isn’t it?”

He tries to clear the fog from his brain but her hot breath repeatedly touching the skin of his neck isn’t helping. Somehow, his own fingers have tangled themselves into the mess she calls her hair, and he spends a quiet moment just admiring how surprisingly soft it is to the touch. When he finally gets his mouth to move, the only word he can manage is, “What?”

She lifts her head, moving to place her lips on his once more, speaking against his mouth and letting her breath fan his face. “Fennel toothpaste, it’s what your breath smelled like back in sixth year.”

His mother eyes him from across the table, one hand soundlessly stirring her tea, the other idly playing with her wand. They’re all alone in the dining room, his father having ambled away after finishing off three bites of his breakfast and three glasses of brandy.

“You’ve been busy,” she says, placing the teaspoon aside and taking a sip from her tea. He knows that tone, and that tone paired with the look she’s giving him means nothing but trouble for him.

“Death Eater duties,” he offers, his own tone bordering between sarcastic and bored. Truth be told, he has been busy—busy smuggling information to the Order and busy snogging Granger the moment they’re left alone in that house. It never goes further than hurried, messy kisses, and he tells himself he’s fine with that.

They almost get caught one day, with her sitting on the dinner table and him standing in between her thighs. He doesn’t know how he had somehow missed the sound of the door opening, but then colours float into his vision and he jumps away from her.

She’s hopping off the table, wiping at the residual saliva on her lips, when Weasley walks in along with Tonks. His presence immediately brings back the taste of his name, aggravated by the fact that Granger acknowledges them by saying both their names. Tonks tastes like butter cookies, and it would have paired nicely with the weasel’s milk-tasting name had the milk not been curdled.

It’s a good thing, really, because the taste helps kill the boner he’d been trying to hide.

It’s the first time he sees Potter after the incident at the Manor, and he barely pays attention to the boy wonder and the fact that he looks almost as pale as Draco himself because he’s reaching for Granger’s quill and a scrap of parchment. The people in the room grow quiet as he writes, and he’s thankful that they’re unknowingly helping him focus by not creating unnecessary colours to cloud his vision.

Merlin knows he needs it, the assault on his tongue already distracting enough without the visual part of his condition contributing to the skirmish. He keeps writing, struggling to maintain a straight face as flavours like soap, tripe, and horseradish clash on his taste buds, fitting together as well as mismatched puzzle pieces would.

When he’s done, he hands the paper over to Potter. His eyes search the room, finally landing and getting lost in late summer honey as the man meant to save them all reads over all the information Draco’s been able to gather about the attack to be launched at Hogwarts tomorrow. Tomorrow, Voldemort will know that there’s an informant in their midst, and Draco will confirm it by fighting for the Order. Tomorrow, he’ll dose his mother with felix felicis, the only protection he can grant her when it’s revealed to everyone on the dark side that he’s a traitor.

Tomorrow, both him and Hermione may die, but right now he ignores the sound of Harry Potter’s voice as he relays orders to the people gathered around the table, ignores the green and red colours swimming in his vision, ignores the flavours on his tongue in favour of staring into her eyes for reassurance that he knows he won’t ever find there.

He’s surprised he hasn’t had a seizure yet. He had physically felt it when Voldemort died, the burning on his arm disappearing like a bubble popping out of existence. Also like a bubble, the synaesthesia comes back in full force. It’s like having your hearing muffled by water stuck in your ear, and when the water finally gets dislodged the sound comes back in a rush, only for him it’s the colours and the flavours that crash down on him like a tidal wave.

It knocks him off his feet and he lands on his knees, staring at all the colours bursting in and out of his sight. He can barely see the people all around him, can barely focus on anything as he keeps whispering her name and relishing the full effects of Sauvignon Blanc and green apples on his taste buds.

Someone’s kissing him, and even with the colours blocking his vision with his eyes open and the hues persisting behind his lids with his eyes closed, he knows it’s her. He knows it’s her even though she doesn’t taste like the crappy tea they have at the safehouse, even though she fills his mouth with the taste of blood instead of the natural taste of her tongue.

The colours start to fade as he takes notice of the hush that slowly envelops the grounds. He imagines that they must make quite the sight, Draco Malfoy and Hermione granger all bloodied up and kissing each other, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“You were right,” he whispers against her lips, opening his eyes and staring into pools of late summer honey. “I have to figure out what to do about my aim.”

Granger does not taste like green apples, nor does her skin remind him of an expensive bottle of wine. She tastes like the soap she had used to aggressively scrub out the grime and blood from every inch of her skin, leaving her pink and tender. He understands the almost obsessive way with which she cleans herself—it’s been a week since the war ended but he still wakes up feeling dirty, feeling like he would never get rid of the warm, sticky blood on his hands. He knows she hadn’t killed anyone, unlike him, but she feels dirty all the same.

Her bones are prominent, especially the ones encasing her lungs and her heart, and he takes his time kissing down her ribs to her jutting hipbones. She giggles and it makes him see soft bursts of salmon pink. “I’m ticklish there,” she says, and it makes him see pale yellows, the colour of daffodils. He’s never seen her produce that colour before and he chases after it for a few seconds, enthralled by its appearance.

He tries to keep as quiet as he can, tries his best not to adulterate her colours and her flavours with his own voice. When she had emerged from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her body, dripping water everywhere, he had told her in a quiet voice to come closer. He had watched the deep burgundy dance in and out his vision and had decided that he’d much rather see pale pinks and Varathane bleached blues.

Now he’s inching closer to her centre and she’s making breathy little sighs of pleasure, her fingers finding purchase in his still damp hair. He’s doing his utmost best to keep his head as blank as possible, to taste only her on his tongue. She smells like soap down there too, and when he uses his fingers to spread her, he marvels at how pink and wet she is for him.

“Draco.”

Salmon pink flashes behind his closed lids and his favourite chocolate melts on his tongue immediately. He has to kiss her thighs, biting into the soft flesh in an effort to contain himself from tasting that part of her. He doesn’t want to taste chocolates in his mouth, he wants to know what she tastes like without the synaesthesia, so he kisses her thighs and looks up at her. He watches her bite her lower lip, nod at him once, and he knows she understands.

It takes him a moment, but his senses finally calm down enough that his tongue can only detect the faint salt and soap of her thighs. Her hands are still buried in his hair and she begins to tug his face towards her centre. He looks up at her once more, maintaining eye contact when he runs the flat of his tongue over her exposed slit.

They moan almost in unison, both their voices filling his eyes with colours that he hadn’t thought would fit well but surprising compliment each other. She doesn’t taste like Sauvignon Blanc but he thinks he could get drunk all the same. He fucks her with his tongue, watches her bite around her closed fist to keep her moans under control.

She loses the battle when his lips close around her clit and his name comes pouring out of her mouth. He groans against her slick lips, using the flat of his tongue to swipe at her clit and two fingers to fuck her entrance. Her moans grow louder as she nears her release and he’s glad he had put up silencing charms on the room—the rest of the Order still staying in the house would probably appreciate not hearing them having sex.

When she comes, she nearly shouts his name. He pulls back and sheaths himself inside of her with one push, gripping her hips and feeling her walls fluttering all around his cock. He doesn’t move an inch, feelings the muscles in his stomach tightening from the effort it’s taking him to hold back from fucking her into the mattress.

She reaches out to him, pulling him down to kiss her and taste herself on his mouth. With their lips still pressed together, their chests flushed against each other, she whispers, “You can move now.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. Her name springs out from him unbidden, and it’s one of those moments when he can almost convince himself that he can get drunk just from saying her name.

He makes her come three more times, twice on his cock, and he would have gone for more but she starts crying after the third time and he knows what those tears are for. War had taken away his father to Azkaban and, along with the older man, much of Draco’s prejudice and the things he used to believe in. It had cost him the life of one of his friends and had crushed any chance of him ever producing a Patronus, but he knows she had lost so much more than that. He was part of the Order, a valuable spy that had ultimately help tip the scale in their favour, but he hadn’t been friends with any of those people.

As for her, they had become her family after she had been forced to give up her parents. They won the war, but he suspects that it would take a long time before her hands stop shaking, before she can go out without holding on to her wand as if her life still depends on it, before she can go to sleep without worrying that she’ll wake up screaming her head off because of a nightmare.

“I didn’t know orgasms could be that overwhelming,” she whispers sheepishly, the tip of her fingers tracing the Sectumsempra scars among the other blemishes he now sports.

The word orgasm tastes like a slice of Victoria sponge. He wraps a moth-bitten quilt around their naked bodies, and when he tells her to go to sleep, her Sauvignon Blanc-flavoured name on his tongue and her rose-coloured laugh behind his eyes are the things that lull him to the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had in years.

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cameronspecial · 5 years

Text

The Marriage Games (Ch.3)

Pairing: Prince! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (Y/L/N) grew up in the palace with her brother and the royals; her and her brother are practically apart of the royal family. The Queen decides to help her eldest son find his own queen by inviting ten female suitors to live in the palace. What happens when through this process he finds love with a woman that is not one of the contestants?

Word Count: 3 413

Disclaimer: This series is inspired by The Selection by Kiera Cass and Yellow Roses by @h-osterfield.

Warning: Sexual assault, swearing, and possible trigger warning.

A/N: I am sorry if this isn’t an accurate representation of being a victim, but this is how I think Y/N would handle a situation like this. To be honest, I am not very sure about this chapter, so depending on what you guys think, I might rewrite this chapter.

Tom waits for Darcy by the front door, after they had finished golfing he had asked her if she would join him to go out for dinner. She said that she was pleased to go out with him. He was able to make a reservation at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay just like Y/N had recommended and now he couldn’t wait to head over there with Darcy; it’s one of Y/N’s favourite places to go for fancy events. Y/N walks down towards the front hallway wearing a black over the shoulder romper that was adorned with daisies. Her hair was perfectly curled and her neck bore the pearl necklace that she always wore. She’s wearing light gray ankle high Vans and a white over the shoulder clutch. “Wearing are you heading too?” Tom asks his friend who had positioned herself beside him to wait as well. Y/N looks at him and gives him a smile, “The boys and I are heading to a club, I’d ask you to join but I know you’re going out with Darcy. By the way, if you see Gordon, tell him thank you on my behalf for Yorkshire rhubarb soufflé that he sent over last week. I haven’t had a chance to see him, tell him that it was superb.” Tom tells that he’ll do that, but he was not capable of saying anything else because Darcy came towards him ready for their date. Her orange hair was curled nicely while the front pieces were pinned back. She wore a plain black dress with a white collar. Her fingers were adorned with multiple rings and her bull ring had a heart on it. Her perfectly polished leather boots were vastly different from the old worn out pairs that she wore when he first met her. Tom smiles at her and walks over to greet her, “You look lovely, Darcy.” Darcy mumbles a thank you and hooks her hand with his. They both say goodbye to Y/N and head off to the restaurant. A few minutes later, Sam, Harrison, Harry, and Georgy finally come and they head out to the club.

The restaurant was packed with well-known people and people of status, however, Tom had requested for them to have a separate room in order to not be bombarded with paparazzi. “You picked a really fancy restaurant,” Darcy comments as she lets Tom pull out her chair for her. She thanks him and he sits across from her. “I hope you don’t mind. If you don’t feel comfortable here, then I can see if we can make a reservation somewhere else. It’s just that this is Y/N favourite place to go for fancy events, and I thought that this would be a good place to go. I am sorry,” he rambles on, nervous that she was not happy with his choice. Darcy giggles at how cute he is and places her hand on top of his in a soothing way, “Tom, this places is fine. It’s very lovely. You don’t have to worry. So you and Y/N seem pretty close.” Tom smiles at the mention of his best friend before responding. “Yeah, we are. She’s my best friend. I trust her with my life and all my secrets. We have been through a lot together and she really means a lot to me,” Tom explains to Darcy as he glances over the menu. Darcy looks up from the menu, “Yeah, I get that. Back in Ireland, I have a best friend that I would also trust with my life. We helped each other through some tough times.”

“Thanks for the ride, Janson,” Y/N thanks the driver as her and the boys get out of the limo. The group walks into the club with booming music and dim lighting. The club was crowded with mostly drunk people, so nobody really recognized the group. Even though they were not immediately recognized, a group of bodyguards still had to disperse themselves all around the club and at a visible distance of each group member. “I am going to go get some drinks with Harrison. You guys okay with beer?” Georgy questions the boys and just as Y/N was about to interject, “Yes, I know you want a virgin Sex on the beach, sis. I have been living with you for your whole life.” Y/N just shuts her mouth and nods with the two other boys. Harrison and Georgy leave the group while the rest make their way to the dance floor. Y/N dances with Harry for a few songs and when her brother and other best friend return with the drinks, she starts dancing with Harrison because Harry and Sam have found other people to dance with. She could feel someone staring at her from behind and when she notices that a man was indeed doing so from the bar; she decides just to brush it off and turn her focus back to Harrison.

“I don’t believe the fish jumped out on its own,” Darcy laughs as she takes a sip from her glass. Tom finishes chewing whatever he was chewing before responding, “It did. If I had knocked it over the glass would have fallen and I would have said that, but I am serious the fish just jumped out of the tank. I had no idea what to do, so I just picked up the dead fish and put it back in the tank. When the president came back into the room and saw the dead fish, she asked me what happened and I just said that the fish was liked that when I came in. I feel bad to this day about lying, but I don’t think anyone would have believed me if I said that the fish jumped out.” Darcy chuckles at the cute story that she was just told. “Okay, my turn. The most embarrassing thing you have ever done during a private event. Like a gala or a charity event,” Tom questions the girl. The young adult thinks for a little bit then answers, “I accidentally ate a whole bunch of weed brownies at a charity event. It was a charity event that was raising money for cancer and they had some patients with cancer at the event. It was medicinal brownies for them and I didn’t know they had that, so when I snuck into the kitchen I ate a bunch. It was only a matter of time before I got as high as a cloud. The organizer of the event was making a speech and I went on the stage, took the microphone, and started singing row row row your boat.” Tom could not stop laughing at the very unfortunate event that had happened to her. “That really does sound embarrassing! What happened next?” He urges on.

“I am going to go get another drink. Did you want anything?” Y/N questions Harrison as she slowly starts making her way towards the boy. Harrison shakes his head and starts awkwardly dancing by himself. Y/N squeezes through the crowded club and finally makes her way to the bar. “Can I please get a Shirley Temple?” Y/N asks the bartender who nods his head and gets to making the drink. Y/N messes around on her phone while she waited for the bartender to make her drink. Once she finally got her drink, she hands it to her brother who had come to join her so that she can go to the bathroom. She makes her way to the bathroom and she was quite surprised when she saw the man staring at her from before waiting in front of the women’s bathroom. “Excuse me,” she mutters as she tries to make her way around him, but he doesn’t move. She says excuse me a little bit louder and tries to maneuver around him one more time. However, he just keeps staring at her and that made her feel a little uneasy. “You are really pretty, you know. How about you come over to my place and I can show you a better time than those guys,” the man whispers in her ear. He was so close to her that she can smell the alcohol on his breath and she was absolutely disgusted. As he gets closer to her, she shoves him away from her, “I don’t want to go anywhere with you, jackass.” He was far enough from her so that she can run off towards one of the many security that they brought.

Y/N didn’t get that far away from him because of the fact that it was hard to move in the crowded club. The man grabs on to her wrist and starts pulling her towards the handicap bathroom. She wonders why none of the security guards or her brother had noticed what was happening, and all she can feel is fear in her chest. The young woman tries to wiggle her way out of his hands and screaming at the top of her lungs, but she was unsuccessful because of the loud music and he just slaps his filthy hand on top of her mouth. She bites his hand as hard as she could, but he doesn’t even much flinch. She feels tears start to form in her eyes as he forcefully pulls her into the bathroom. He slams her against the wall and mumbles into her ear, “Now, be quiet and let me finish my business. She is not done putting up a fight, so she starts thrashing and kicking as hard as she could but he doesn’t even react. Y/N lets the tears run down her face as she continues to struggle against him. The man harshly pulls down the top of her romper and she can feel her necklace being ripped off. He had gotten the romper to around her waist and she had tears streaming down her face when the door of the bathroom is kicked off its hinges and several security guards flood into the bathroom. Her coarse throat lets out a sigh of relief while the guards pull the lad off of her and put him against the wall.

Y/N is still in tears as she slides down on to the floor and picks up her broken necklace. The guards try to get her up, but she wouldn’t let them touch her. It only took a minute for the four boys to come rushing in to console her. Georgy kneels beside his sister and brings her close to him. He runs his hands gently through her hair and whispers sweetly into her ear, “It’s going to be okay. We got you. He can’t hurt you anymore.” She couldn’t say anything at all. All she could do is bury her head into her neck and let the tears out. Harrison takes off his sweater and hands it over to Georgy so that he can place it over his sister’s almost nude body. She’s shivering out of fear and the boys hated themselves for letting it happen. Georgy stands up with his sister still in his arms and the group makes their way out of the club. By now the music had stop and the crowd had made a path towards the entrance by order of the Royal Guards. The club no longer had this exciting vibe, but a sombre one as everyone watches the Royals make their way out of the club. When they got into the limo, Y/N is still crying her eyes out and she is surprised that she still had enough tears left in her. “You are okay, sis. I promise nobody is going to hurt you. The guards have him and he can’t hurt you anymore,” Georgy comforts his sister. All she can do is nod her head in close her eyes to try and get some sleep to heal the headache that has formed.

Tom walks down the street with his hand in his pockets and Darcy walks beside him with her arm hooked with his. They had just finished dinner and were now having a peaceful walk around town just talking about everything and anything. Their conversation is interpreted by the ringing of Tom’s phone. “I am so sorry, I have to take this,” Tom informs her while putting a little distance between the two of them. Tom takes out his phone and answers it, “Hey, Harry. Is everything, okay?” Harry clears his throat and once he speaks, Tom can immediately hear the worry in his brother’s voice. “Tom, it’s Y/N. A man sexually assaulted her and she won’t talk to us. She won’t let anyone into her room and we are worried about her. Georgy is freaking out and we really need you to come. Please, we can hear her crying and it’s tearing us apart that we can’t do anything.” Tom’s face feels his smile drop and he quickly reassures his brother that he’ll be there as fast as he could. He ends his call and quickly makes his way over to Darcy, “We have to go. Something happened to Y/N and she needs me. I am so sorry.” Darcy nods in understanding and the two of them make their way over to Tom’s car.

As soon as Tom got home, he ran as fast as he could to Y/N’s room because he hated the thought of her being sad and alone. Once he was in front of the door, he gently knocks on the door and announces that he was coming in, but the door was locked and that frustrated him. Y/N slowly gets out of the bed at the sound of her best friend and makes her way to the door. Y/N slowly opens the door from him and he quickly brings her into a hug. She immediately breaks down into his arms. Tom caresses her hair and leaves a gentle kiss to the temple of her head whilst he moves them towards her bed where Tessa sat on. “Hey, you’re okay. I won’t let anyone ever touch you like that again, I promise. You’re okay, just let it all out, love,” he reassures her as he rubs her back. She looks up at him and wipes her tears, “I was so scared. I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening that there were several security guards that would stop this, but he was still able to touch me. Tommy, he hurt me and now I don’t think I can ever go out again. I am so scared that this isn’t over that somehow it’s going to happen again. I felt so weak and I never want to feel like that again.” Tom’s heart breaks when he hears just how she felt and he vows that he’ll make sure that he will do whatever he can to make sure no girl will ever feel like that again. “I am going to make sure that you and any other girl feel that way again. I promise. How about we head to bed? Tomorrow, I promise that we will get everything sorted out so that you never have to feel that way again,” Tom promises her. Y/N nods her head in agreement as she wipes her tears away and starts getting ready for bed. Tom left the room for a few minutes so that he could get ready for bed.

Y/N had finished getting ready for bed before Tom had returned, so she settles herself into the bed and cuddles up next to Tessa. Tom came into the room and he was relieved that she was finally able to stop crying. He makes his way over to the bed and lies down beside her. She shuffles her way closer to him and lies her head on to his chest. She closes her eyes and lets herself fall asleep. In the middle of the night, Tom wakes up to the sound of Y/N’s whimpers. He gently shakes her awake and tells her that she is okay. All she can do is nod her head and head back to sleep. In the morning, Y/N went about her business like nothing had happened and Tom is concerned. “Y/N, you know it’s okay to be scared. If you want to cry, then cry but you have to let it out and you have to tell us what you are thinking,” Tom begs knowing that she is probably hiding her true emotions. She puts on her shoes and looks over her shoulder to him, “I am fine, Tom. I just want to make sure that nobody will ever have to go through that. Now, leave me alone. I need some time alone.” Tom sighs knowing exactly what was happening. She was shutting everyone out just so that she can prove to everyone that she was strong even after last night’s events. “Y/N, please don’t shut us out. You can talk about what happened, it doesn’t make you weak if you feel something. You need to talk to us,” Tom frets over her. Y/N just puts a smile on her face and tells him that she is fine. “Tommy, I just have a lot of things to do. Can you please let me get my business done,” she answers him.

“Mum, I am worried about her. Last night all she could do was cry and now today all she wants to do is pretend that nothing happened. I don’t know what to do,” he confides to his mother. “Tom, what happened to her last night terrified to the core. You know that’s how she gets when she is terrified. Remember when Georgy got shot, how when she first learned about what happened, all she could do was cry. Then the next day, she pretended like everything was normal. That’s how she processes things and we can’t do anything to change it. I am worried about her as well, but we can’t do anything about how she heals. We can’t do anything else unless she asks us to,” Nikki advises her son. Tom sighs and takes a sip out of his teacup, “I know you are right, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t hurt the son of the bitch that did this to her.” Nikki nods her head in understanding of what he felt because she too was going to make sure that the bastard could never touch her daughter again. “Good morning, love. How are you?” Nikki questions Y/N who had just walked into the room. “I am fine, thanks for asking. I just thought up a new project and I am going to run it by Dom. Hopefully, he will give me some funding for it today,” Y/N tells her mother as she takes a bite out of Tom’s toast and quickly makes her way to Dom’s office.

“I want to make sure that no other girl has to feel how I felt in that moment, but I don’t know exactly what I can do. So, for now, I want to start a support group for victims of sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rapist. I haven’t really worked out the logistics yet, but people to have a place where they feel safe. We can do fundraisers and brainstorm different ways that we could prevent these horrible events from happening. I know you probably can’t give me a lot of money because of the fact that I don’t have anything planned yet, but anything you can give me to kick starts the program would be great,” Y/N finishes pitching her idea to the board members and Dom. Dom smiles at her with a proud look on his face, “I think this is a great start, Y/N. I am so proud that you’d rather help other people rather than exact violent revenge on your assault. I would be glad to give you a quarter million pounds, once you figure out exactly what you want to do and once you have found people to help you out. I want to assure you that one thing that I have already done to make sure this never happens to you again is I have fired all of the irresponsible security guards that were on the scene of the crime.” Y/N nods her head and there was a small smile on her face, “Thank you so much for the money. I’ll go start a plan right away.” Y/N says her goodbyes and quickly makes her way to her office so that she can start planning.

Taglist: @tmrhollandkay @embrace-themagic @whereartthouwakanda @smexylemony @bookgirlunicorn @mysteriouslydelightfulwolf @melancholland @casualprincess77 @notes-from-my-journal @katiekitty261 @spidermansmj14 @redrebecca @deranged-sewer-rat @loverofthingscool @jackiehollanderr @iamthescarlettwitch @parkeret @i-bitch-you-bitch @furiouspaperfarmegg @arrantsnowdrop @loxbbg @hollandechart @converseskyline @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @holypizzafestivalfire @youllbemineandillbeyours @lydiasbxtch @tomshufflepuff @bookgirlunicorn @spideysimpossiblegirl @starlightfound @softspideyboy @captainbuckyy @arrantsnowdrop @timelock97 @ophcelia @mendesmusical @the-tales-of-ck @tchalameme @thequeensardine @inlovewith3 @alovely-day @racewife2004 @fangirllegacy

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x y/n #prince! tom holland #tom holland prince x reader #tom holland prince #prince!au #prince! tom #prince! tom holland x reader #the marriage games

149 notes · View notes

rachello344 · 5 years

Text

A glossary of fandom terms that have either been taken from literary criticism (incorrectly) or that I use that are either no longer in use or have... different definitions now.

If anyone has any terms they’d like to see added or words you come across that have confused you, please drop me a line. I’d be happy to add to this whenever. It’ll all be under a readmore so that I can edit it when needed. ^^

Discourse--Literally a discussion, like, the act of discussing. That’s it. More specifically, people will say, “the novel here participates in one of the many discourses on gender” or something like that. Essentially linking one occurrence to a wider conversation. Literature and Media do not exist in a vacuum, but neither can one work make a trend, but I’ll get to that. Just call it wank or meta. Use the words we have, don’t take words from academia, especially when you don’t understand their context.

Romance--One of many genres of fiction. This is a story that centers around a romantic relationship between two or more characters. I could tell you about how all genres are crutches and constructs we assign to make ourselves feel better, but that might be moving too fast. For now, what’s important is what a romance isn’t. A romance is NOT some kind of idealist model that must serve as a positive example for the Youth. That would be Utopian Romance fiction (which is boring because stories need conflict, but that’s my own opinion on the matter). A romance only needs the major plot conflicts to hinge around the romantic (as in not platonic, this could be love or lust or some combination thereof) relationships between its characters. Pride and Prejudice is a romance. Captive Prince is a romance. The Foxhole Court, while containing a romantic subplot, is not a romance. Harry Potter is not a romance. A story can have romance without being a romance. Compare romantic comedies with action movies, as an example. But, don’t think that a romance can’t be tense or unhealthy or whatever. Fifty Shades is also a romance, remember. If you wrote out the Joker and Harley Quinn’s story, only focusing on them, their story would be a romance. It’s more complicated than that, obviously, and there’s nuance, but I think you get the picture. Regardless of your moral views on the love depicted, a romance is nothing more or less than a story about the development of a romantic relationship.

Fetishization--I hate seeing this word thrown around. This literally means that something has been made into a fetish object on a cultural level. You can have the fetishization of purity in American culture, for example. And you can have the fetishization of homosexual relationships in pornography intended for heterosexual audiences. However. A single work of fiction is not fetishizing anything. It may contribute to an overall trend, but this is not a word to use for single entities. This is a cultural trend word. Sure, it can be used for subcultures, but whenever I see this word used, it’s used to mean that some work of fiction or other is bad for displaying a queer sexual relationship in any kind of (perceived) perverse way. Please stop using this word incorrectly. As a kind of burgeoning critical theorist (i.e. English grad student), it is incredibly frustrating. You’re using words you don’t understand in ways that undermine the hard work being done by people in my field. Unless you’re going to read Marx and Lukacs and learn what the word “reification” means, I think you should use another word. In most cases, what is meant is that some group people don’t like are showing an interest in something perceived as not belonging to them, whether that’s true or not. I think if we unpack that a little, we can all find better ways to phrase things. Fetishization is an accusation thrown around, not the analysis it’s meant to be. And, frankly, it needs to stop.

Normalization--This is thrown around so often I hardly know where to begin. This is not a word that can be used for a single object, again. This is a word meant for trends. For example, we could talk about the fact that male violence in our culture is normalized and so no longer taken as seriously as it should be. A fictional work depicting something you don’t like in a way you perceive as positive and uncritical does not mean that it’s normalizing it. A single crime procedural does not normalize crime. You could say that the trend of always showing cops to be in the right, no matter the extreme actions they take, normalizes the liberties they take in the real world, making it difficult to speak out against police brutality and other such abuses. But again, that’s the genre as a whole--procedural cop dramas could all contribute, but one of them is not going to be normalizing on its own. That isn’t how that works. Just say that you find whatever it is unpleasant to read because of X or Y trope. Or talk about how the TROPE is normalizing something. That’s totally legitimate. The trope of X normalizes Y behavior in Z culture/situation/etc. and this is harmful because W.

Romanticization--This does not mean that something bad is shown in a romantic light. This is another big trend word. Cultural myths about heterosexual marriage and related gender roles contribute to the romanticization of domestic abuse. A single work of fiction depicting an abusive relationship in any kind of perceive positive light is not romanticizing abuse. Cultural narratives about women needing to be convinced can romanticize the act of rape, especially from the male perspective. One work of fiction cannot do this. It has to be on at least a genre level, if not cultural or societal. Again, subcultural too, but you have to make the argument apply outward. The BL/Yaoi trope of having a Seme character force an openly reluctant Uke character into sex romanticizes sexual assault. One BL using the trope can contribute to it, but it isn’t romanticizing anything on its own. It’s not powerful enough to be capable of that.

Wank--The word once used to describe what is now called “discourse.” It’s usually a circle jerk of complaints about some fandom or another or the people in it. Every example of so called discourse I have ever seen was actually just wank wearing a new hat. Don’t put on airs or borrow credibility. Call a spade a spade.

Meta--Analysis on a series or character. Some of these are better reasoned than others, but the only way to truly rate them is in how well they use their evidence (and how much evidence they have) to support whatever claim they make. These are often essays, but can be a couple paragraphs, sometimes with pictures as evidence along with quotes from the source. Some “discourse” falls into this, but only very rarely. Most people call meta either meta or analysis instead.

BNF--Big Name Fan. This is THE person in your fandom, generally an artist, occasionally a fic writer or other content creator. You’ll know them when you see them. This is the person everyone follows. Their headcanons are so widely accepted that they almost always become fanon (whether you like it or not). Some of these people are super nice and use their powers for good. Others can become divas, mad with the power the fandom has given them. Regardless, there is almost always drama brewing around them (whether they like it or not, unfortunately). I recently saw some commenting on people actually asking other fans for permission to hold certain headcanons. Someone with that power is a BNF. That is a TRADEMARK of a BNF. Their fandom credibility and respect is so high that people see them as some kind of authority figure. Be wary of people who go along with this. They’re not to be trifled with, and frankly, it’s safer not to engage.

TPTB--The Powers That Be, otherwise known as the writers/producers/creators of any given series. These are the people that create Canon and produce Word of God.

Canon--Anything that explicitly happened in the confines of a series. Basically, the events of any given series in whatever form the standard is. I.E. episodes of a TV show, books in a book series, etc.

Fringe Canon--Works that are connected to the series in question, but not part of the standard form. Often includes movies, novelizations, guide books, etc. Can be considered canon, but isn’t something every fan will see/have access to, so can’t really be considered The Canon. Can also includes things that are implicit in the text, so something that can be argued in meta but that not everyone will agree on.

Word of God--Something said by TPTB that remains outside of canon. I.E. interviews, panels, and other things said at conventions or for PR. Common mantra, “PR is not showrunning” meaning that Word of God often has little to do with what happens within the series. Example: Some sub-textual evidence of Dumbledore being gay does not make his being gay canon (it makes it fringe canon, imo). Rowling saying that he was gay in an interview is here considered Word of God. You can take it or leave it, because no one in the series says the words “Dumbledore was gay” or any other variation that would make it explicit canon.

Headcanon--Something that you decide about a character. This isn’t canon and often has no strong basis in canon. It can include sexuality, gender, religion, favorite color, anything not covered by canon. You can also have headcanons that contradict canon.

Fanon--Headcanons that have become Too Powerful. These are things, good or bad, that have been accepted by a probably absurd number of people. Some of these can be great, especially when the series has some seriously bad writing, but if you find yourself disagreeing, this can be the worst thing you ever have to deal with. Especially when people who subscribe to it insist on its being canon...

Ship--Any feasible romantic relationship, canon or non-canon. There are of course platonic variants, but those are usually specified (broship, brotp, etc.). Most often two people, but more recently polyshipping has come into vogue. To Ship (v.)--For me, this does not apply to canon ships no matter if I like them or not. Shipping is transformative. To me, more than anything, shipping (as a verb) means you consume or create transformative media centered around that relationship (most often non-canon or not explicit canon, but could include canon, it just needs to be an active not passive interest in the relationship).

Canon Ship--The series endgame, usually (but not always!) straight. This is an explicit couple. They are in a relationship. They kiss (or something) on screen. You can still take it or leave it, but that doesn’t stop it from being canon.

Rare Pair--This is a ship that has some basis in canon, but is extremely unpopular. Some people include anything with less than a certain number of fic on Ao3, but it varies by fandom. I’ve been into rare pairs with less than 10 fic written for them, so anything around 500 still seems like quite a bit in comparison. Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV), but you’ll know it when you see it.

Crack Ship--These people have probably never spoken. There is no reason for them to be in a relationship other than the fan’s preference (often aesthetic or story-related). A crack ship is often random and completely baseless. A crack ship is not simply a ship that won’t be canon. Most ships will never be canon. This goes beyond that into the ridiculous. As a recent example, Keith x Zarkon would be a crack ship, while Keith x Hunk is perfectly reasonable (if rare).

Multi-shipping--Shipping characters together without a strong preference for one combination over another. For example, shipping your fave with every possible romantic partner, not just one (or more in a polyship). This includes Everyone x Character type things, not just “I could ship them with literally anyone.” Both count.

OTP--One True Pairing. The ship you love above all others, canon or not. For me, I have exactly one of these per fandom, but I know other people use it differently now. This used to mean that you ship the thing exclusively. You might like art for other ships with the characters in this OTP, but you’re not that into it. This used to be THE ship. The characters in this OTP were not shipped with others, and other relationships were used for jealousy or plot reasons, not usually because you enjoy the other ships. This is the ship you go to war about.

OT#--Same as above, but there are more than two people involved. So, the one polyship you hold above all other ships (poly or not).

BrOTP--Platonic version of the above. These are the ride or die friendships of the series. You don’t see them as in love, but they absolutely love each other. There’s devotion and loyalty and affection--or you just think their friendship is the best/greatest/funniest and you don’t see them ever ending up together romantically. You want these characters to be BFFs, not lovers.

#fandom meta #my meta #Glossary of Fandom Terms #Lemme know if I missed anything big lol #I've been sitting on this for over a year XD

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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OMEGA MEN #2-6 MAY - SEPTEMBER 1983 BY ROGER SLIFER, KEITH GIFFEN, MIKE DECARLO AND PETRA SCOTESE

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

The Omega Men pick themselves up from the ruins of Sharll. All around them are bodies of innocent Changralynians partially buried beneath tons of smoldering debris. The surviving members of the planet blame Broot for the holocaust.

On the Omega Men mothership, Kalista forces a captured Citadelian to transmit false reports to his commander. Demonia meanwhile, begins to sew seeds of mistrust within the lower ranks. She warns some of the underlings about Primus' apparent mind-control capabilities.

Back at Sharll, the Omega Men realize that their bio-systems are nearly depleted. Tigorr volunteers to gather some more, but Primus warns him that his system will burn out long before he has the chance to replace it. Tigorr ignores Primus' warnings and storms off. Though it nearly costs him his own life, Tigorr proves triumphant and he returns to Sharll with fresh bio-systems.

Meanwhile, the supreme commander of the Citadel prepares to bomb the protective shield surrounding Euphorix – the last independent world in the Vega star system.

The Citadel make plans to conquer the last world in the Vega star system to elude their grasp - Euphorix. What makes their objective so difficult is the fact that Euphorix is protected by an impenetrable planetary shield. They attempt to plant a network of bombs across the shield's surface, but this fails to meet their goals. The Citadel are assisted by an Earth human named Harry Hokum who claims to possess the secret for conquering Euphorix.

Meanwhile, the Citadel broadcasts a false transmission across all interstellar airways, declaring that they have already broken through Euphorix's defenses and are now laying siege to the planet. Kalista views the broadcast and is horrified. She is ready to bring the fight directly to the Citadel regardless of any objections that Primus may have. Demonia learns of this and is pleased. She conspires to sew seeds of discord amongst the Omega Men so that Tigorr might soon overthrow Primus and become the new leader of the team.

Kalista, Harpis and Shlagen take the Omega Men mothership and set course for Euphorix. Kalista orders Harpis to take them through hyperspace. They come out at an unexpected coordinate and strike a passing meteor, shearing the wing off the ship. Shlagen goes out a spacewalk to effect repairs to the ship's hull. He discovers a large, shapeless organism attached to the side of the ship.

On Slagg, Doc tells Primus that Kalista has left for Euphorix. Tigorr antagonizes him, questioning his leadership capabilities, snidely remarking that not even his own wife follows his lead anymore. Primus storms off in a huff to find where Kalista has gone.

Meanwhile, on the Omega Men mothership, the organism has breached the hull and enters the lower quarters where it spawns dozens of smaller predators known as Grafflings. The creatures immediately begin attacking the ship's electrical systems. To complicate matters even further, a group of bounty hunters led by the alien known as Lobo boards the ship. Lobo, Bedlam, and Berserk blaze their way through the ship, killing several crew members. Leaving Bedlam to fight with Harpis, Lobo arrives at the command center where he engages in a protracted battle with Kalista. Aided by the Grafflings, Lobo soon defeats her and brings her back to the Citadel. Lobo's employer, Harry Hokum, interrogates Kalista, demanding the secrets of Euphorix's planetary shield. Kalista is confused and says that the Citadel has already broken the barrier. Harry confesses that the video was simply a ruse to draw Kalista out of hiding. He then exposes Kalista to a telepathic creature known as a Greeshagurt. The Greeshagurt physically begins to merge with her, absorbing her features, her knowledge, and her memories.

The Greeshagurt merges completely with Kalista, possessing her in both body and mind. She stands atop the planetary force shield surrounding her home world of Euphorix. Two guards on a hover-skiff take notice of her and temporarily deactivate the field, allowing her to fall through. The creature separates from Kalista and attacks one of the men, allowing Kalista's unconscious body to plummet towards the ground. The other guard swoops down and rescues her. The Greeshagurt falls to the ground and dies on impact. The Citadel warship attempts to descend towards the planet, but the Euphorians raise the shield again and the ship batters onto the surface.

On Slagg, Demonia has a conversation with the cat-woman Felicity. Felicity is upset because Tigorr has been practically ignoring her since his return from Changralyn. Demonia mentions that his mind is heavy with the ongoing competition between Primus and he. Demonia subtly continues to manipulate Felicity's emotions. Tigorr meanwhile, shares drinks with some of the other refugees. The others begin to distrust Primus, and they speak of rumors that he may be using his psionic powers to mind control them. Several aliens are ready to side with Tigorr should he decide to wrest control from Primus. Primus finally enters the dining hall and Tigorr and he get into an argument. Neither man is willing to listen to the other and they decide that the only way to determine who should lead the Omega Men is through trial by combat. The fight is vicious and Tigorr plows into Primus with total savagery. Primus is an able-bodied warrior in his own right, and his skills are supplemented by his mental powers.

As the two continue to wear away at one another, Demonia sends a recording of their fight to the Citadel. She offers her comrades up to the conquerors and tells him that they are now headquartered on Slagg. Tigorr swipes away at Primus, but as the crowd cheers him on, he realizes that something is wrong. He knows somehow that they have been manipulated. As Primus' near-unconscious form is dragged away, Tigorr skulks off to Demonia's room. He catches her in the midst of broadcasting their location to the Citadel. The two fight one another and Tigorr is victorious. He then sends his own signal to the Citadel, telling them that they will never back down and that they are taking the fight to them.

Tigorr and a loyalist faction of Omega Men board a star cruiser and set a course for the Citadel Homeworld. Three Branx warships give chase, but Tigorr eludes them by making a blind jump through hyperspace. The Branx wish to continue their pursuit, but they are not so foolhardy as to attempt a blind jump less they risk colliding with another vessel or some space debris upon reaching their destination.

Above the planet Euphorix, the supreme commander of the Citadel is enraged that their plan to break the world's planetary shield has failed. Inside the great dome, Euphorian patrol officers project a broadcast of Tigorr's bold declaration of war against the Citadel. The Citadellians decide to continue broadcasting Tiggor's transmission in the hopes of getting a fix on his present coordinates. They also release a phalanx of space mines and send them off after Tigorr.

Meanwhile, Shlagen takes a shuttle craft to Tigorr's cruiser. Unbeknownst to him, he is followed by the bounty hunter Lobo and his partner Bedlam. Lobo and Bedlam sneak onto the ship just as the craft encounters the Citadel supreme commander's cruiser. Tigorr plots a direct intercept course towards the Citadel ship, but moments before impact blind-jumps once again into hyper-space.

News of Tigorr's bravery begin to reach colonies on other Citadel-controlled worlds in the Vega star system. Inspired by his actions, those opposed to Citadel rule, rise up and begin rebelling against their masters. Hundreds of rebels are now ready to follow Tigorr's lead. On Slagg, Primus and Doc learn about Tigorr's exploits and feel that his actions are that of a man bent on suicide.

Near the Citadel throneworld, dozens of rebel ships appear ready to do battle.

Hundreds of battle ships stand poised outside the Citadel Homeworld. The homeworld is protected by a battery ring of defense stations built atop planetoids that were once part of the planet's moon. Tigorr and the Omega Men lead the assault against the Citadel forces. Tigorr releases a colony of small alien life forms known as Prolfs into the battle zone, and using their enhanced dexterity, they immediately begin taking positions across the Citadel battle ring.

They plant small explosives that detonate simultaneously, setting off a chain reaction that destroys the entire battle ring. There is now nothing barring the Omega Men's path to the planet. Legions of alien warriors from dozens of worlds descend to the surface and begin fighting Citadel soldiers tooth and nail. Tigorr and Lt. Gepsen leads the charge into the Citadel command center, but Tigorr halts when he encounters Auron.

Auron warns him not to pursue this course of action, stating that it can only end in tragedy. Tigorr has no patience for Auron's cryptic warnings and pushes past him. He finally reaches the nerve center of the complex, where he finds that all of the planet's electronic defenses are controlled by a single disembodied entity - the first Citadellian.

This being encourages Tigorr to destroy the command center, citing that it would actually fulfill its agenda - for this being is the personification of aggression. It take credit for all corruption that has ever existed in the Vega star system. By destroying it, Tigorr would in fact, be intensifying the fires of aggression throughout the galaxy. That is a risk Tigorr is willing to take however. He presses a switch and the entire facility explodes. The war is over. Tigorr emerges from the wreckage and announces, "We won!"

REVIEW

An appropriate term for this title is “Dark Star Wars”. It’s hard to believe that this story came out from the pages of Action Comics and Green Lantern. And while it doesn’t have a “mature readers” label on it, it should. This is pretty much Vertigo junior.

Issue number two presents us with a very interesting story. I see it from the point of view of an atheist, and how sometimes people that rely too much in prayer are not doing any good to their brothers and sisters. But you can also see the story from the point of view of feminism, as Broot tries to rebel in a society that tells him he has to be passive because it has always been that way.

But, interestingly enough, by the end of this arc, we find out that they probably were half right in their passive approach, as the first citadellian wanted full aggression all over the Vega star system.

The one thing that seems to me that makes this story less than 10, is the backstory of the Vega Star System (a forbidden area for the Green Lantern Corps), and this made it get full of runaway criminals. Also one of the most important planets we learned about lately wasn’t present in this story: Tamaran. While Tamaran seemed to be doing well before this saga, it is often repeated in the story that the only planet standing is Euphorix.

The first appearance of Lobo has very little in common with the Lobo we know these days, but we can always say that this is pre-crisis Lobo.

I wasn’t cheering for Tigorr when this started, but now the situation changed completely. In fact, I never really trusted Primus, and I think there is something fishy going on with him.

The Baxter format allows for more colors. This really adds a lot to the art (although, I think Giffen is not the best artist to highlight this). The colors are bright and the contrast is neat.

The Hembeck joke was awesome.

I give this story a score of 9

#keith giffen #mike decarlo #lobo #omega men #dc comics #comics #review #1983 #modern age #citadel

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bubblemagician · 5 years

Text

When the days are cold And the cards all fold And the saints we see Are all made of gold

He slept fitfully in the makeshift shelter, comprised of car parts and sheet metal lying around. Roy let Miles sleep in the car, to talk to his new friends on the radio. He knew the loneliness was hitting the boy a lot harder than him or Marie. So Roy elected to stay out in the scrap yard whilst Marie kept watch tonight.

He could sense it. All day the aroma of forbidden fruit, somewhere out in the vast wasteland.

They were bring watched.

He hated to have Marie out there. It should be him standing vigil. She was just a kid. A kid. Sixteen, bright, beautiful and a treasure who should be in school cooking what she loved, spoiling everyone with her baking skills and probably kicking icy ass at hockey.

But that was a life no one could afford anymore.

Roy needed a few hours of rest of he was going to be driving, and Marie, who usually slept while he drove anyway, was tasked with keeping watch.

Hopefully… Hopefully no one would approach.

When your dreams all fail And the ones we hail Are the worst of all And the blood’s run stale

He stood up, his gold hair raised on the back of his neck. He couldn’t sleep and something… Something was NOT right.

“Marie?” He called softly out the shelter, looking for his sister.

Only silence answered.

He stepped outside the small metal enclosure and was immediately assaulted by the fresh scent of sustenance. Covering his face, trying to swallow down the panic, he looked for the familiar head of pastel colored hair.

“Marie! Marie!” He called urgently into the dark silence. His harried voice echoed over the rusted metal, trashed cars, abandoned furnishings and appliances that made up the piles of junk in this heap.

The thick smogulous clouds made it impossible to see out past a few feet. His blue eyes found the station wagon and peeked inside.

Miles was comfortably asleep, crown askew on his head and snuggled up in blankets. Roy would have smiled at the sight of “the ladies’ man” looking like the innocent child he actually was as he slept, had it not been for the fact that Marie was not in the car with him.

And his fear was suddenly magnified by the sound of screams in the distance.

“No….” Roy bolted through the mountains of scrap metal towards the unholy sounds of terror and agony.

No…no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, this wasn’t the way to do it…no… no, God no, Marie…

I want to hide the truth I want to shelter you But with the beast inside There’s nowhere we can hide

Out the scrapyard, into the wasteland, he was panting from running so fast but the adrenaline kept him going. Marie had to be out here somewhere-

And another ear shattering shriek followed by a dull thud vibrates in his ears as he came upon the blood bath.

Bodies, 2, 3, of them sprawled on the ground in sickening angles. White masks half off their faces, weapons still in their dead grips, skin ashen and completely void of any visible color. Necks slashed, bitten open. Blood flowing profusely out of the deep gashes.

They were dead. Dead before properly being purged of Sin, no longer appetizing as their life force vanished. Dead and departed in the most gruesome, animalistic way.

There was only one other creature capable of this.

Hearing another howl of pain, Roy looked back towards the sound.

And standing there, inhuman, feral bloodlust glinting a gluttonous pink in her normally blue eyes, face and clothes splattered red, fangs dripping with the Crimson Sin of humankind.

His little sister Marie.

No matter what we breed We still are made of greed This is my kingdom come This is my kingdom come

“Marie…” He tried to murmur gently, trying not to shake as Gluttony gazed back at him with no recognition. “Marie… Put him down…”

“More.” Was her response. Glaring at her brother, she turned her gaze back to the victim who whimpered in helplessness.

“Marie!” His voice was firmer. “Marie, put him down.” He repeated. Now.“

She snarled, ignoring her elder and snapping her jaws wide, fangs poised to rip into the white masked minion’s throat.

In a moment Roy Moved, grabbing his sister’s arm with strength he didn’t have a minute ago. Marie screeched as she was forced away from her prey.

The White Mask dropped to the ground and fled, FLED. But Roy had no interest in pursuing the prey. Right now, he needed to calm his sister.

"More! More blood!” Marie screamed, her hands clawed at Roy, trying to shove him away as he put his weight into stopping her. “MORE!”

“MARIE!” A deep, lion’s growl emanated from his throat, his usually azure eyes now rimmed with a glowing, unnatural Prussian blue. Pride piercing through his gaze at his sister, in full, steady control of the part of him he was used to keeping suppressed.

When you feel my heat Look into my eyes It’s where my demons hide It’s where my demons hide

“Marie.” He repeated. Slowly, gradually, the pink in the girl’s eyes faded. She blinked, once, twice. In confusion The teen looked at her brother.

“Roy? Roy what happened, where-”

And confusion turned to horror as she saw the foreign blood covering her hands, her clothes, and leaking out the corners of her mouth.

“I killed them…” a mortified whisper left her bloodstained lips “I killed people….” She pushed herself out of her brothers grasp

“I killed them, I’m a monster!”

“Marie,” again in a gentle, soothing tone “No, you’re not a monster…”

“I am” she was shaking, trying to wipe away the blood “I am, I am, I’m no better than the Zombies- I…”

Roy took her shoulders. “Marie look at me. Look at me”

Trembling, she forced herself to look into her brothers eyes.

“Yes. We are monsters. We are death. We are the bane of Mankind’s Sins. Or at least we’re supposed to be.” Roy swallowed, but kept a firm hold on his sister. “You're performing your duty. The way I have. The way Dad used to. And…” He looked out to where the escaped white mask had gone “We need to complete it”

Marie trembled and followed her brothers gaze towards the man. Sharp, predatory senses resurfaced as she could see the outline of his retreating body, hear the fearful heartbeat of the white mask, smell the scent of his sinful blood.

Like fresh Strawberry Crepes.

“Let me show you how…” Roy let go of her, his own eyes glowing again as the beast emerged behind his round baby face.

“With Mercy, Kindness, and compassion.”

In a burst of enhanced speed, the blond, seasoned predator was cruising through the waste of desert and within minutes he was holding the White Mask in his unearthly strong grip.

He looked into the man’s terrified eyes

“What’s your name?” Roy asked quietly.

The man shook his head, pure terror in his eyes

“Please.” The gentle, sincere tone was imploring the man to answer.

“M-Mark Banks” He whimpered again.

“Mark Banks” Roy nodded, taking his hand “I’m sorry… I hope you find peace…”

Leaning down, the blond’s fangs carefully pricked the man’s flesh. He shrieked, but quieted as Roy soothingly stroked his hair. The man weakened, first falling to his knees, then lying flat on his back, sprawled out as he was drained of blood.

“You are released of your Sins…” Roy murmured as Crimson liquid dripped out the wound “Your Pride vanquished, your vanity deterred”

The teen’s mouth pressed to the bite and started to draw out the blood. Seconds past, minutes, the man weakening with every tug of skin and subsequent loss of sanguine. Finally his eyes closed.

Marie crouched down, watched in silence as the man expired at the hands of her brother.

Don’t get too close It’s dark inside It’s where my demons hide It’s where my demons hide

“You are purified…Mark Banks… Your afterlife is absolved of Sin.” Roy unlatched and placed a hand on the man’s forehead.

“Morietur in Castitate” he spoke in his native Latin, a small prayer for the departed soul.

He sighed and sat up, giving his victim a moment of silence out of respect before looking back at Marie.

“Is this…how you hunt?” The inexperienced predator asked her brother. Roy gave a nod.

“It’s how I try… It will take a while for you to be able to control it the way I do, your instincts only just awakened.”

Marie was trembling again but she nodded.

“There’s two more out here.” Roy stood up, offering his hand to help up his sister. “I want you to try doing it the way I did”

Marie was still shaking as she gripped her brother’s palm “Do we have to?”

Roy Answered with a soft, melancholy smile.

It’s where my demons hide It’s where my demons hide

“It’s what we are”

#Truffula Flu #askroypride #askmariepride #writes #content warning for blood/gore I guess

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mondofunnybooks · 6 years

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MONDO FunnyBooks: Bunker Down.

Were you a recent visitor to the wonderful world of comics fandom and discussions between professionals in the business, you might have the idea that comic customers were essentially a superstitious and cowardly lot.

Current sources of outrage, retweets and outbreaks of delusional authority run riot have been ranged from the fairly embarrassing to the downright worrying. Arguments in this writers memory have been about: 'Is The Joker doing something not very nice to a human being?', 'How dare a movie studio choose to cast who they like in the film they're paying to make without consulting US first?', 'This man who draws and has been drawing people in a particular fashion has drawn this person in his particular fashion. How dare he?' We reached peak David Icke/Alex Jones levels of hilarious Othering this week when an X-Men artist referred to SJWs as 'Nazis'.

Irony and Satire have apparently given up on humanity and gone for a pint.

The usual conservative, tribal viewpoints of people who've confused an artistic medium with a constant stream of politically free distraction designed only to anatheize rather than engage and stimulate thought, then. It's more important to harass Ruby Rose for being cast as 'Batwoman' until she feels compelled to leave Twitter or be upset at the news of Michael B. Jordan playing Johnny Storm for reasons that were absoultly nothing to do with racism but rather the...uh...misportrayal of the modern American family which defintly traditionally couldn't contain a black man. Also something something tradition or something.

When we've brought this up before, we're usually countered with something like 'Oh, you should see Harry Potter/Overwatch/Hunger Games/Fortnite fandoms, they're JUST as bad.' Which we are willing to assume is true, having seen YouTube comments, but it does seem that the entertainment industry has a bad habit of emulating the worst excesses of the comics industry.

Whether it's Empire or TV Guide running variant covers, Toy producers doing convention exclusive figures and then selling them at a premium afterwards or even, HighFather Keep Us From Laughing, the application of the words 'Limited' or 'Collectiable' to a product to imply both a scarity that requires instant purchase and a possibilty of high resale value when in fact those are words that could be applied to any physical product ever.

We can almost guarantee that there are only a limited amount of copies of 'Night Rocker' by David Hasslehoff in the world and should you decide to purchase one or more copies, you have collected them, but neither fact is hard evidence that anyone will offer you more than you paid for them ten years in the future.

This is a rather..odd state of affairs to have come about. With the exception of poetry or graffiti, Before the medium was hijacked into becoming one more vehicle to sell corporate superhero products, work like George Herriman's 'Krazy Kat' explored the nature of language via abusive animals against the unrelenting tedium of the desert. Little Nemo In Slumberland by Windsor McCay was a continous attempt to map the subconscious in a strip adaptable to any format thrown at him by publishers. Sigel and Shuster commericalised the Jewish notion of a charismatic Golem who would maintain balance against an American society that had been taught to hate them. Fly By Night publishing types would use the form to glamourise the world of true crime and vaguely condemning tales of drug abuse to create an entire sub-culture by showing a willingness to adapt to the times.

These were the early days of comics and sequential story-telling and by now there ought to be work making these masterpieces look like the plinkings of Woody Gutherie against the all out assault on the cortex that is an Atari Teenage Riot. Instead the front end of the medium seems more concerned with dotting the I's and lining the t's of it's previous output (our favourite example being Marvel's 'Secret Wars Too: A comic that explained to readers why the comic it was parodying would be late. They charged money for this, as well.)

Comics were long considered the Outlaw Artform, so capable of shaping the public psyche that the content and distribution were brought up in Congress to see if it was necessarily to regulate the avalibilty of them to children. It's a longer story than will run here but the essence of the events is that while the 1954 hearings saw Congress conclude that comics were NOT a harmful product that would negatively influence children's minds, the comics industry decided that it would be best to settle public hysteria by establishing 'The Comics Code Authority', which would impose a series of standards and regulations upon comics seeking to be distributed on the newsstands.

Ironically, one of the people on the earlier incarnations of the board that would make up The CCA would be John Goldwater, one of many who takes credit for the creation of Archie Andrews'.. This writer likes to think Mr Goldwater was probably a little resentful of EC Comics's Archie parody 'STARCHIE!' (MAD Magazine Issue 12. Remains funny but now also looks like any episode of 'Riverdale'.) and was more than happy to choose the phrasing of a code that also happened to regulate the key words in EC Comic's top selling comics out of publication. All the resentful little men in comics complaining about being mocked are 'Happy Days''s Howard Cunningham wearing his Grand Poobah hat in our head.

We say 'ironically', because the current Ickeian theory is that comic sales in the direct market are so low due to Marvel and DC 'giving in' to the demands of the 'SJWs'. What with their unreasonable demands for more realistic representation in mainstream comics, we can see how 'Could you produce more comics we'd be willing to buy?' would definetly be an agenda designed to bring down the entire comics industry.

Because we are given to facts, we can't dispute a lot of the problems the new comics industry faces. Sales on New Comics to The Direct Market ARE down.

It would take the same sort of mind that blames Barack Obama for his Presidential inaction during Hurricane Katrina to think that the problems of new comics are the work of those damned SJWs, though. Not unless Heidi MacDonald has a time machine.

Unless Laurie Penny staged a hostile takeover of The Marvel Editorial Summit and said 'Right. Here's what we want: Please keep raising the prices of your comics by roughly about a dollar every few years, do more $150 crossovers that will have no significance in about 4 years or so. Please spin off as many comics as possible from one of your prime brands. Make sure your top staff behave like Obnoxious King Nerds on social media whenever possible.Instead of focusing your sales team on promoting the comic as a good read, keep pitching your comics as must buy investment issues aimed at speculators who won't be back for the next issue. As soon as your readership have begun to settle into a book, it's direction and it's creative team, that's probably the best time to relaunch your titles.

Be sure to confuse readers and retailers by pretending each relaunch is a 'Season' without ever referring to which season is currently published in advertising or trade dress. Come up with any justification whatsover to publish an anniversary issue that's triple the price of a regular comic as frequently as possible. Try to devalue the contribution and sales cache of your creative team over the amount of variant covers offered to retailers. Have your top writers actively and vocally hostile to the notion of second printings and finally publish no comics that even vaguely resemble the TV and Movie versions of your characters so new readers can come into a shop after seeing "Avengers Assemble" and be offered 7 books called "Avengers" but they'll mainly be about some men chatting at a table.'....then the reasons why new comics are failing aren't at the hands of SJWs.

They're at the hands of the publishers. The above list is the main reason for the decline in sales of new comics in specialist shops that we saw in our days behind the till. All things we were saying over a decade ago at retailer meetings with Marvel and DC. We were brushed off in order to try and wave shiny new 3D variants back then.

A few years later, when it was apparent that the law of diminishing returns was in full effect, was when finally The Big Two turned to the 'gimmick' of appealling to a wider audience. When oddly, that half-hearted effort to win over a new readership by publishing the books in the same venues as usual didn't work,with little support from their publicity and advertising departments both Marvel and DC quickly threw these efforts under the bus as proof that trying to expand your salesbase beyond a Wednesday crowd was a waste of time.

Except that''s nonsense of course. Any analysis of pre-order charts will tell you that the sales have been in heavy decline since 2007's 'Civil War' from Marvel. The constant attempts to repeat that success in that format are the problem. Marvel and DC trying the 'Social Justice' route and it's subsequent failure is a shameless attempt to rewrite history for the benefit of an agenda of tired Poobahs scared of time and their limited views of the comic medium making them irrelevant.

In fact, Marvel's recent attempt to appeal to Muslims,AND teenagers (imagine.) at once was quite late in the game with 2013's 'Ms Marvel' while the 'Feminazi Bible' Mockingbird wouldn't begin threatening Poobah Egos until around late 2016. Meanwhile, Archie Comics had smelled which way the wind was blowing several years earlier....

Archie Comics were always smarter than the ongoing superhero titles because they never set themselves up to tell an ongoing story, but rather worked like an extended cartoon strip. If you read three random issues of any Archie comics, you were probably as clued up on the cast of Riverdale as you were going to need to be to understand the dynamics of what was going on. Archie was perptually out of sync with the world around him, Betty was goal driven and meant well, Moose wasn't quite sure what day it was but loved Midge more than anything, etc. etc. All you had to do was set up a situation, add two or more of the characters and let the rest play out.

Even better, since the characters weren't obliged to be a certain age given the backstory (Peter Parker can't be worrying about teenage problems since he's been around long enough to get married, be a lecturer, etc.) the backgrounds and fashions could simply be updated to reflect the times of publication.

So no awkward retcons such as Reed Richards and Ben Grimm starting off as veterans of World War 2 and suddenly having gone through The Gulf War instead, prompting questions like 'Which comics have and haven't happened, then, because The Avengers definitely went to Saigon in the 70's but the existence of The FF precedes The Original Avengers finding Captain America in the block of ice and Cap turned out to be fighting Richard Nixon during The Secret Empire Saga so...argh!'

Archie managed to stay on the newsstands long after the self absorbed and inside baseball nature of superhero comics rendered them unsaleable in your average W.H.Smith's or Wal-Mart, since any issue of Betty & Veronica could be read by anyone with no need to check out previous issues. It was very rare that any one tale would run more than one comic and the few times it did, it was with fantastic results. We'll get to that.

In 2010, Marvel was wasting everyone's time and money on 'Siege; or 'What If Asgard wasn't in space but in Oklahoma instead?' while DC insisted on spreading the myth that people who grew up in Liverpool talk like they're from Shoreditch by adding John Constantine to the line up of 'Brightest Day'.

During the same year, Archie dragged mainstream comics kicking and screaming into the future with 'Kevin Keller', a comic featuring an openly gay male lead out in the real world and everything. This annoyed some American Mary Whitehouse wannabes called 'One Million Moms!'. They campaigned against the title being sold in children friendly areas such as Toys R Us but only really proved their basic inability to count to 1 million.

In the same year they published covers featuring Archie kissing Valerie, the black bassist from Josie & The Pussycats. If this doesn't strike you as a big deal for a comic being published in the mid-west of America, well, you might be one of those guys suggesting that there's always been adequate representation in comics.

They didn't sell as many comics in specialist shops, but while The Big Two continued to tread water, Archie kept moving forward, kept looking to crossover with big name brands, parodied the biggest comic crossovers, featured the likes of Barack Obama and Sarah Palin, paid homage to EC Comics and got Adam Hughes to draw covers. They even explored exactly what WOULD happen if Archie finally chose Betty. And Veronica. And heartbreakingly, how deep Archie's love for his fellow man ran in the conclusion to the marriage stories in 'The Death Of Archie.' Oh, and he also met the Predator.

Then they stepped everything into higher gear with our second favourite horror comic of the 21st Century with Afterlife With Archie. It was a book we'd recommend to new readers as a good alternative to the horrendously overpriced, badly drawn horror or just too boring to be scary books glutting the market with 'Torture Porn Variants'. AWA would feature at least one chilling moment per issue likely to stay with you long after you finished reading. One issue of tie-in book 'Sabrina The Teenage Witch; is worth 3 or 4 'Walking Dead' trade paperbacks in terms of actual horror instead of people talking around a trailer park.

If you had been a fan of the Archie world before and hadn't read it for a while, though, our glee would be magnified. While the horror/jump scare bits of AWA are genuinely well done and actually quite intense, the bits between undead assault are where the real horror lies as relationships between all the characters are twisted forever, new angles and revealations would stop you ever being able to see Midge, Cheryl, Reggie and more in quite the same light.

This moving with the times meant that the Archie readership were quite capable of seeing the characters they loved for so many decades in different modes of storytelling and art styles laid the groundwork for two things: The relaunch of the line in 2015 with high profile creators such as Mark Waid, Fiona Staples, Chip Zdarsky and Adam Hughes doing new and interesting takes on a universe we all knew so well (A bit like The Ultimate Universe but with a point and a plan.) and also the hit show 'Riverdale'.

It will not surprise many of you to learn that the Grand Poobahs Of Comics (TM MONDO FunnyBooks 2018) hated 'Riverdale' and frequently grumbled 'Not MY Archie.' but then, by folding their arms and threatening to hold their breath until the artform of comics goes back to being what THEY want, they've proven time and again that they're constantly wanting to find a straw man to blame for the world moving on without them. These were the same people who moaned about 'Archie Vs Punisher' for not taking Frank Castle seriously enough and thought the parody crossover 'Love Showdown' (Which promised that Archie would finally choose a permanent girlfriend) would break the Archieverse once and for all.

There are lots of ways to improve the state of comics. Indulging the whinging of grumpy old men and refusing to believe the rest of the world might be interested in comics are not on that list of ways.

And as a wise man once said 'The people want BeBop. And who I am to tell them that BeBop is wrong?'

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darknessfactor · 7 years

Text

Avocadon’t, Maybe?

A/N: I hAD TO

Based on this quote. Ignores the Ragnarok post-credits scene.

They were aiming for Norway. They didn’t hit Norway.

Or at least, that’s what Thor cheerfully tells him when Hulk finally cedes control back to Bruce. Apparently it’s only be three days this time, and Hulk was mostly content to spar with Valkyrie when he got bored. Then their ship had started to hurtle towards Earth, and then they’d crashed, and Hulk claimed boredom before shrinking back down to Bruce.

“If we didn’t get to Norway,” and Bruce doesn’t even know why they’d wanted to go to Norway in the first place, “then where are we?”

Korg pops out of nowhere, and Bruce nearly jumps out of his skin - one, because what the hell, and two, because the only other person he knew who was capable of that was definitely not a tall rock person - and says, “The nice fella I just talked to said we’re in some place called New Zee-land.”

Bruce drops his forehead onto his knees and starts laughing.

Thor isn’t very thrilled when he sees exactly where New Zealand is in relation to Norway, but he cheers up slightly when Bruce explains that it’s where Lord of the Rings was filmed.

“An excellent tale of your people,” Thor praises. “Except the elves, they’re pretentious pricks.”

Bruce catches Valkyrie’s eye, and gives a very deliberate cough. Valkyrie hiccups.

At any rate, their crash won’t have gone unnoticed. They need to figure out where in New Zealand they are, and they need to find out where civilization is. For now, they seem to be out in the jungle, and while they have plenty of food on the ship, it won’t last forever.

Bruce immediately volunteers to try to find a town. Korg got vague instructions from the guy he’d talked to, but looking at a map, Bruce thinks he can pinpoint where it is. Valkyrie volunteers as well, claiming that she’ll be protecting Bruce, but as soon as they’re on the road, Bruce gives her the side-eye.

“You just want a drink,” he accuses.

“What? Noooo,” Valkyrie says. “Well, yeah, but not just that.”

Bruce shrugs. “’S okay. It’s refreshing, to be honest. You’re one of the few people who doesn’t treat me like a ticking time bomb.”

Valkyrie startles him by laughing. “What? You and Hulk, a ticking time bomb? Yeah, right. You’re both fucking teddy bears, you are. Hulk’s just a bit of a bigger teddy bear.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, unsure what to do with that mental image. “Thanks, I guess? You should probably realize that humans are a bit more, uh... fragile.”

“Yeah, I guessed that after you broke your neck to get Hulk to switch with you.”

Bruce snorts, but concedes the point to her.

There’s a goat, tied to one of the posts holding up the town’s sign. It’s called Ono. It seems appropriate.

There are a few stores, and a few places to eat. Valkyrie makes a beeline for the liquor store, in her Sakaar leather-clad regalia. No one gives her a second glance. It’s Bruce who draws more confused looks, probably because he’s once again dressed in Tony’s clothes and really wishing he wasn’t.

He ends up following Valkyrie into the liquor store, only to find her arguing with the owner over prices. That’s when he remembers that none of them exactly have any human money, and he sighs.

“Val,” he calls, and she spins around, looking confused. “C’mon, we’ve seen what we needed to. We should head back.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but something about his expression must convince her, because she follows him back out the liquor store and into an Internet cafe where he can use the phone that Thor gave him. He breathes a sigh of relief when he discovers that Tony has kept his account open, and manages to get some cash from the disgruntled teller at the bank.

“Here,” he says, shoving half at Valkyrie. “Don’t go too nuts over it, okay?”

“Sure,” she answers, thumbing through it with a frown. “By the way - ‘Val’?”

“Valkyrie’s more like a title than a name.”

“Val.” She says it with the air of someone trying a new kind of food for the first time. “Well my real name is shite, so I’ll take it.”

While Valkyrie is buying as much booze as she can (Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it probably won’t affect her), he manages to use some of his so-called ‘awkward charm’ (named by Natasha) to get information from some of the townsfolk at the local coffee place. All their gossip centers around the jail, where their first criminal in over twenty years is being held.

“What’d they do?” Bruce asks.

Dan, who’s had a few too many shots of espresso, leans forward and half-whispers, “Stole seventeen of Harry’s avocados, would you believe it. Seventeen! Looked like fucking Santa Claus, she did, carrying that thing over her shoulder.”

Bruce is sorely tempted to tell the man that he’s sharing a body with Hulk, and has been spending the last two years on an alien planet. He decides to let Dan marvel at their avocado thief, however.

Two minutes later, the town sheriff comes into the coffee place and orders drink with three shots of espresso, before turning to Bruce with an irritable glare.

“Your friend Val’s locked up,” he says. “Ned down at the liquor store says she assaulted him?”

Bruce sighs.

Valkyrie is in the process of becoming best friends with her cellmate by the time Bruce manages to get the teller to withdraw enough money to cover bail. He’s pretty sure that the teller’s opinion of him has plummeted down into the negatives, and it doesn’t help that his current outfit belongs to a self-proclaimed asshole.

“I’m Tony Stark,” he mutters, and has the insane urge to giggle.

The deputy sheriff pops her chewing gum in his face when he asks to see ‘Val’, before grabbing the keys and trudging over to the cells. Valkyrie is in the midst of howling with laughter at the story her blond cellmate is telling, thudding her fist against the ground and only making the floor shake a little.

“Someone was nice enough to post bail, Val,” the deputy says, unlocking the cell and opening the door.

“Hey!” Valkyrie snaps, holding up a hand. “Story’s not over, don’t interrupt. Rude.”

“So then,” the blond continues, and Bruce’s heart nearly stops. She’s facing away from him, so he can’t see her face, but -

“Then, Steve turns around and looks at me and just says - completely deadpan, like, you would not believe the deadpan this guy can pull - ‘I thought there’d be more ass’.”

Valkyrie starts laughing again, hard enough that there are tears streaming down her face. The deputy is standing at the open cell door and has taken out her phone, scrolling through what looks like Tinder.

“Well, I guess I’m off, but I’m very happy I got to meet you,” Valkyrie says. There’s a little tilt to her voice and Bruce has to think about it for a second, but - yup, Valkyrie is definitely flirting. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind if I came back and visited after your trial?”

Natasha - because it has to be Natasha, he’d know that voice anywhere - flirts right back. “Mm, yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

Valkyrie shoots her a wink before she saunters out of the cell. “Hey, Bruce,” she says, clapping him on the back hard enough that he stumbles. “That didn’t take long.”

That catches Natasha’s attention, and she spins around in her cell, finally giving him a good look at her face. He’s startled by the change - she looks like she’s aged ten years instead of the two since they’re seen one another, with dark circles under her eyes and wrinkles around her mouth. But her eyes still carry the wicked glint he’s familiar with, even when they’re round with shock.

“Bruce?” she says, her voice cracking. Her composure returns almost immediately, and she smirks at him. “Channeling you inner Tony, I see.”

Bruce winces. Valkyrie’s good humor has abruptly vanished, and her gaze is moving between the two of them, assessing. “Can we maybe not do that?” he asks.

Natasha’s smirk falls from her face. “Alright,” she says. She nods at Valkyrie. “It was nice meeting you, Val. Please, do come visit.” Her attention turns to the deputy sheriff in a clear dismissal. “So - what’s for lunch today, Ella?”

Bruce is half-dragged out of the station. He and Valkyrie make their way down the street until they leave town, heading back to their ship. He still can’t shake the whole shell-shocked feeling of seeing Natasha again. It’s like a bucket of ice-cold water, but he can’t deny that it brings back the longing with a vengeance.

Halfway back to the ship, Valkyrie gasps.

“Shit,” she says. “You’re hung up on her!”

Bruce would like to disappear now. That sounds nice.

“And she’s hung up on you! Great, there go my chances.”

“Wouldn’t discount yourself just yet,” Bruce mutters. Natasha’s had two years to move on. It’s the smart thing to do.

“Well, obviously there’s only one thing to do,” Valkyrie says, her voice hardening.

“Yeah, get back to the ship and figure out how we’re gonna feed thousands of hungry - “

“Break her out of prison.”

“ - Asgardians - Valkyrie, no, that is not what I said - “

As it turns out, once Valkyrie gets an idea in her head, she apparently just... doesn’t hear any protests against that idea. She finds Thor as soon as they get back to the ship, hurrying away as Bruce asks weakly, “She could’ve broken herself out, so why hasn’t she?”

Thor, of course, is overjoyed by the prospect of seeing another teammate of his. He’s even more excited at the idea of breaking her out of jail - never mind that the reason Natasha’s in jail could be important, Bruce knows that much at least - and in spite of the fact that New Zealand is a small country and they don’t have very far to run if they bring the local law enforcement down on their heads.

Loki takes one look at them, with their heads bowed together, and walks away, muttering to himself.

At first, Valkyrie and Thor try to come up with some kind of plan. Bruce suggests paying Natasha’s bail. They both dismiss his idea.

“You could just let Hulk smash the place up a bit,” Valkyrie suggests. Bruce can practically feel Hulk perk up at the suggestion, and is reminded that Hulk missed Natasha as well.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea?” he hedges.

“Hulk was last out for three days,” Thor says, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. “I say Bruce should get three days as well.”

“Seems fair,” Bruce agrees. In the back of his head, Hulk grumbles, but concedes.

In the end, Thor and Valkyrie give up on a plan. They just decide to go into the jail, smash up stuff up, grab Natasha, and leave. Hopefully before Ono decides to come after them with pitchforks.

The trek back into town takes half an hour, and this time all three of them draw stares. Bruce shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny as they make their way to the sheriff’s station, though he notices that the looks Thor gets are actually appreciative.

Of fucking course.

Thor bursts into the police station with a grin, says, “Hi, we’re here to get our friend,” then marches over to the cell and rips the door off. The deputy blinks at them and then says to Thor, “Can I get a Snapchat with you?”

Natasha makes a show of dusting herself off as she leaves her cell. She catches Bruce’s eye. He mouths, “This wasn’t my idea,” at her. Her mouth quirks in amusement.

Valkyrie looks thrilled. “Wow,” she says, looking Natasha up and down. “Not only are you, like, wow, but Thor says you’re one of the greatest warriors on the planet. Nice.”

“You keep talking but all I see are biceps,” Natasha teases back, eyeing Valkyrie just as appreciatively.

Valkyrie preens. “Yeah, I know.”

Thor finishes taking selfies with the deputy sheriff, and heads over to envelop Natasha in a hug. Natasha hugs back just as tightly, smiling with genuine warmth at Thor.

“Why are you in prison, anyway?” Thor asks her.

“I stole some avocados.”

“Jesus,” Bruce mutters. “I thought they were joking.”

That’s the moment the sheriff shows up, with an actual gun this time, and starts shooting at them.

Loki takes one look at who came back from Ono with them, and promptly disappears. Bruce almost snickers.

Almost. Because somehow Thor and Valkyrie have given them the slip, leaving the two of them in one of the corners of the camp so that they can... what? Talk it out? Bruce isn’t even sure where to start. Ultron still feels like yesterday for him, but Natasha...

Before he can say anything, however, he finds himself wrapped up in her arms.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she murmurs in his ear, before pulling away. “Tony and I didn’t know... we couldn’t figure out where you were. Less surprising, since you were on another planet, but... I was worried you’d been captured somehow. With the Accords and everything, it’s dangerous out there. For people like us.”

Bruce has no idea what the Accords are, but they don’t sound good.

“I’m glad you’re safe too,” he says. “What’s with the hair? And why were you in jail for stealing seventeen avocados?”

Natasha snorted. “I’m on the run. Again. Most of the Avengers are, except Tony. And Rhodey, I think. A disguise seemed like my best bet. Though this is actually the third time I’ve dyed it.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

They lapse into silence after that, during which time all of Bruce’s pent up feelings rise to the surface again. He still doesn’t know where to start - it doesn’t quite feel like he missed her, but at the same time, he has missed her. Does he say that? Does he talk about what happened on Sakaar?

None of those things, apparently, because the first thing out of his mouth is, “You still haven’t told me why you stole a bunch of avocados.”

“Dip.”

Bruce pauses. “...what?”

Natasha shrugs. “I was hungry. I wanted dip. I was out of money. I stole seventeen avocados so that I could make dip.”

“Bullshit.”

“Avocados are a super food. What’s so hard to believe about that?”

Bruce shakes his head. “And you just let them take you to prison?”

Natasha shrugs. “This time was for a dumber reason. It’s not as bad as last time, when I got caught spray painting buildings in Russian. Or the time before that, when - “

“Have you just been... shuffling yourself through jails?”

“...maybe.” Natasha pauses, thinks about it for a minute. “I might’ve been a bit reckless.”

“You think?” Bruce mutters.

“Also, the town was called ‘Ono,’” Natasha adds, sniggering. “Too good an opportunity to pass up. My mug shot will be on the wall in their sheriff’s station for all eternity. Like, ‘Ono, Natasha was here’.”

Bruce wonders if he’s fallen into some kind of fever dream, but something about the terrible pun and her casual attitude towards being in prison strikes him as definitely being Natasha. And in that moment, the ache of missing her fades, like they’ve never been apart.

Natasha notices. “What’s that smile?”

“Nothing.” Bruce reaches out, pauses to give her time to move, and takes her hand. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

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