#did they not show up in the first round. i somehow missed the leafs losing in the first round again my bad
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02 | SO THERE'S THIS MAGIC BOY
i can do this all day
02 | so there's this magic boy
author : @riseofarmy
pairing : kim seokjin x original character
words : 2343
i can do this all day masterlist
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DARLING
What. The. Hell.
Before me stands a man I've never seen before in my life. He's barefoot, loose harem pants hanging low on his hips and an open vest doing nothing to hide his bare chest. The most startling thing about him though is his hair. It's purple, as in I Am The Love Child Of Amethysts And Lilac purple.
I don't get how I could've missed someone as stand-outty as him.
He leans down elegantly to pluck the lamp from the floor and my heart seizes up instantly. I have no idea where he came from, or how he got so close to me without me realising, but one thing I do know - this piece of shit is not getting away with my lamp.
With a swipe of my foot at the stranger's legs, I fell him like a tree. He shrieks, trying to pick himself up, but I pounce on him, sitting on the back of his thighs and twisting his arms behind him so he has to curl backwards to stop his arms from hurting. I pull out the twine I store in one of my pockets, intending to tie up his hands, but then...
He's gone.
As in gone-from-under-me gone, making me fall onto my back since the hands I was pulling have goddamn disappeared. Disappeared! Again: What. The Hell. I stare at the ceiling, trying to orient myself. He was right there and then he was... not.
"I can't believe you just did that to me, like surely you knew how that would make me feel."
The man stands next to my knocked-down body, bending over to look me in the eye. He flicks a lock of purple hair off his face with a lop-sided grin that might have been meant to make me feel at ease but instead makes me growl in irritation. I make a grab at his ankles, but I only touch them for a moment before my hands close around empty air.
That did not just happen.
Except it did. He's out of my arm's reach and fanning his face lazily as I get on my feet, eyes lasered in on the lamp still in his hand. He twirls it carelessly and I totally lose my mind, snapping forward to jump on him again.
This time, I manage to tackle him to the ground again and lock his head into my elbow before-
"Don't bother, you'll just tire yourself out." Suddenly, he's on the other side of the small room, a roguish curl to his lips as he lounges on one of the bigger chests of gold. He notices me twitch in his direction, and with a wave of his fingers, I'm frozen.
It's an awful feeling, like time has stopped, but only for me. There's an emptiness in my chest that takes me a second to place, but then I realise what it is - I can't breathe! Somehow, I know that my lungs have stopped working, my heart has stopped beating, that the only thing working in me right now is my thoughts.
And then he lets go of me. I suck in a grateful breath, flexing my fingers until I'm sure my blood's flowing again.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit literally what the hell.
"Please tell me you've calmed down." I flick my gaze up to find the strange man eyeing me warily. He has a better grip on the lamp now and isn't flinging it around like before, so I force myself to stay on the ground even though I was itching to take it from him.
"Who are you?" My voice cracks, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, his expression clears up significantly into an overly bright beam.
"You know what, I have a song prepared for exactly that question, gimme a second to change." Before I can consider the ridiculousness of that statement, he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's wearing...
Actually, what is he wearing?
He has on a startlingly white jacket, with odd, overblown shoulders, and a matching pair of breeches that were fitted to his body and made of a stiff material. The outfit was studded with what looked like diamonds, his hair was slicked back off his forehead, and the whole look completed with a set of short, silver boots.
I can't help it. Before I can slam a palm over my mouth, a snort slips out.
The man looks a little shocked, mouth dropped into a horrified 'O'. "Are you laughing? At me? Why are you laughing?!"
"You look... What are you wearing?"
He splutters, ears reddening so quickly they might just pop. "Do you not have any taste? This is high fashion, the result of a gorgeous marriage between class and art and I look stunning."
This man was serious! His hand was curled into a fist and he looked almost comically furious, but I just couldn't take him as anything but a joke.
Especially not when, a few seconds later, he lets out a scream and jumps onto a chest. It takes me a moment realises that the thing that had him currently shaking like a leaf was none other than... Yoongi.
Yoongi, my little furball cat, who slinks past the terrified man and curls into my bent form.
"Wait. Are you scared of cats?" When he doesn't reply, I have my answer. The man flinches as I stand up and step closer to him, eyes trained on the only-slightly-feisty ball of fluff at my feet. "How does this sound: you give me the lamp back, and I won't tell Yoongi to bite you."
At this, the man looks up. "The lamp is yours anyway! Take it! Just keep that thing away from me! WHY IS IT COMING CLOSER?!"
I stop moving closer to him, eyebrows furrowing - it seems too easy. I pat Yoongi's bum and direct him to the other side of the room before turning to address the man again. "You'll just... give it back to me? Then why did you take it in the first place?"
Now that Yoongi's further away, the man looks at me directly, throwing his hands up in what was probably frustration.
"Are you out of your mind? Seriously, did you get knocked on the head too hard before or something? Why would I take the lamp? It's literally yours? I can't? Do anything with it? Just? Take it?"
It was my turn to splutter. "Well- I- Alright then? I'll just? Take it?" It's strange to be talking in question marks, but everything about this situation is strange and I don't have the time to get hung up on the details.
I rush forward before he can change his mind, swiping the lamp from his hand. I cradle it to my chest, deciding right there that the next person to even glance at it without my permission is getting castrated.
"Can't you keep it away from me?" The stranger jerks his head at Yoongi, who was pawing through a pile of gold, completely unaware that he was the object of the man's derision.
"It isn't even near you and it has a name. Yoongi. He's not gonna hurt you."
"Mmm-hmm, that's what they all say before letting those monsters maul your face off."
"It's a little concerning how oddly specific that was, but Yoongi's not gonna 'maul your face off', he can't even catch rats. Anyway, can't you just save yourself by doing whatever it was you did before?" Before, when my body stopped but my mind didn't. "Um. What did you do before."
"Well, that's exactly what I changed into this incredible outfit to explain!" He gestures at himself, the diamonds throwing light around the room. "I literally told you I have a song prepared. You have a problem with that?" He adds in the question, probably realising that my face was twisted in disgruntlement.
"Can't you just say it?"
The man visibly deflates, and I almost take my words back. Almost, but not really. He clicks his fingers again and he's back in the harem pants and vest, then once more, and two plush armchairs appear. I think I'm already desensitised to things popping into existence.
"Sit," he gestures, plonking into the one opposite. "Since you want to do this the boring way. What do you want to know?"
I sink into the seat, half expecting it to disappear from under me, but it holds. Yoongi jumps into my lap, and I quickly look up at the man for his reaction, but he seems to have calmed down from his initial fear - he just purses his lips and avoids looking at Yoongi.
"I guess I'll start with... Who are you? And how did you get here without me noticing?"
He cocks his head. "Do you even know what the lamp is?"
I look down at my lap where Yoongi was batting at the purple gem in the lamp. I don't want to let on that I knew what the lamp can do, but something gave me the feeling the man already knew. "Yeah, it's a magic lamp. Makes all your wishes come true."
"Wow, it's so interesting that you think that because that's wrong."
Cue round two of me spluttering. This man did not just show up, out of nowhere, and deny what I have known for the last eight years.
"Wrong? What do you mean wrong, I'm supposed to be the only one left who knows about this lamp."
"And who told you about it? Actually, it doesn't matter, because sorry to disappoint you, honey, but whoever it was didn't have their facts straight. The lamp doesn't do anything, it's just a vessel for the real wish granter. That's me."
I blink, waiting for the punchline. It doesn't come, though, and the man cocks his head again, an amused smirk lifting his lips.
"Since you haven't figured it out yet, I'll spell it out for you. I am a djinn, a genie if you will. And since you freed me, you are now my master until I grant you your wishes." He furrows his eyebrows. "No wait, I've missed something. You know, my song was perfected to give all the information you need in the right order and now you've messed me up."
And then he starts humming something under his breath, bobbing his head to the beat in his head. "Oh! You have four wishes. And my name is Seokjin."
"What?!" Oh hell no.
"Yikes, what's with that reaction. Seokjin isn't a weird name or anything so-"
"No, what do you mean four wishes? I'm supposed to be able to make as many as I want!" If I can only have four wishes...
"I mean exactly that. I can grant you four wishes, no more, no less - not that anyone's ever wanted less. And before you even think it, you can't ask for more wishes." He looks at me sternly, as if it's something he's had to say repeatedly.
His words feel like a physical blow to my chest, winding me and making my brain blank. Four wishes. That certainly is less than I had planned for, but I guess it could have been a lot worse. I could have had only one wish, or I could have never found the lamp. Yes, thank goodness I have at least this many - I just have to make sure I make it count.
"Are you okay? You haven't said anything for, like, two minutes. I mean, I'm used to people becoming speechless in my presence, but you look more stressed out than in awe, so."
"Huh?" I shake myself out of my increasingly spiralling thoughts. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... Wait, the ball!"
Only four wishes? This new stranger I'm apparently stuck with? Both of those I can deal with, I can find a way. But if I miss this ball then it doesn't matter how many wishes I have, I won't even be able to start with my revenge plan.
The ball, as in the prince's twenty-third birthday ball, which is only a week away. It was announced by the king when the prince was only ten: a grand ball open to nobility from all over the world. Even in Paaratham, the announcement sent tremors through towns because the prince was to choose his bride from among all the single noblewomen that attended.
I'm not from a noble family, and I'm definitely not a princess, but I'm determined to be the one the prince chooses.
The lamp was supposed to help me with that, and I had planned to wish myself into the kingdom after getting the lamp, but that's not an option anymore. If I wanted to get there in time, I need to leave now.
Immediately, I snap into action. I start stuffing my pockets with gold, since I don't have much more money on me, and packing into my rucksack the few bolts of fabric that were already tailored into clothes. The man - Seokjin, I tell myself - only stares at me, until I address him.
"Some of us can't magic up stuff whenever we want, so excuse me for snatching what the dead won't use anyway. Is there anything from here you want to take?"
"Me?" He looks shocked, probably thinking I must be dumb to ask a genie if he needs anything.
"No, the creeper behind you. Yes, you, is there anything you need from here? You have two minutes."
I go back to filling my pockets as Seokjin frantically rustles through the room. I don't see what he's getting but he seems satisfied when I call him to me.
Yoongi meows at him, obviously wanting to investigate Seokjin, but I pick him up and lay him on my shoulder. I kinda want to figure out this whole genie thing too, but I don't have the time right now.
Right now, I've got to get to the capital, Mansae. Everything else I can sort out later.
"Alright, magic boy. Let's get outta here."
i can do this all day masterlist
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Can you write a story about like doppelgängers?? Like that one astronaut one where there’s a guy outside the ship asking to be let in but also the same guy inside saying that the other is a fake!!
I hope you like this, it felt nice to stretch my creative muscles in this direction thank you ^_^
Idk how much this counts as a Doppelgänger but-
June 29th, 1992
Grace fidgeted with her necklace, twisting the little plastic charm over in her hands as the old camp bus rumbled over pockmarked dirt. Each hole was marked by a loud thud and she would bounce slightly in her hot vinyl seat, one hand leaving the charm necklace to hold her bag, just in case. This was her third year at Camp Clearwater, a run down summer camp full of noisey bunks, sticky benches, and a small lake buzzing with mosquitoes and every nasty bug children dare each other to touch without getting scared. She sighed and looked out the window, squinting at the hot sun. Her mother had told her to pack sunglasses, but Grace had forgot. Again. The bus rounded a corner and started its descent down to the campgrounds, hitting every bump and hole head on.
Giving a small grunt as she hiked her backpack onto her shoulders, Grace made her way off the bus with the other campers, taking in the familiar scenery. There came a shout, the head counselor was beckoning the "mayflies" over to a corner under a tree. That was her this year, not old enough to be a senior at the camp, leading songs and getting time with the canoe- but two years too old for the best beds or using the dilapidated playground. Grace bet her legs still wouldn't touch the ground on the monkey bars, unlike everyone else she hadn't grown an inch. She ambled over to the circle under the tree, looking for a familiar face in the group. Her summer camp friend was Sid, who always got to the camp a week early with the kids from the southern town closer to Clearwater. She was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was late. Somehow.
The head counselor shouted at them to sit down in the grass and Grace obeyed, dropping herself and her enormous bag onto the cool earth with a thud. Everyone else had done the same, whispering among themselves and exchanging far-fetched stories of school conquests back home. The two other southern kids were sitting in silence, glued together. Grace leaned over and tried to ask about Sid, but a harsh whistle from the head counselor made her snap back around.
"Welcome to your third year Mayflies! Very happy to see you all here again. I assume you all know the rules by now, but just in case: No swimming in the lake without councilor supervision, no going anywhere without a buddy, and curfew at sundown! If we see you out after dark without permission you will be confined to my office for two days, meaning you will not only miss any activities, but you will also have to deal with me!"
She gave a loud, barking laugh, then continued her lecture. Grace was starting to lose focus, tuning her out in favour of ripping small bits of grass from the ground. Each little bit felt like some small rebellion, like she was sticking out her tongue at the councilor and her yearly mile-long list of rules. Something grabbed her attention though, pulling her out of her trance by the roots of her hair. It was a gasp from the kid sitting next to her, making her snap back into focus. The head counselor was still talking her nonsense, but there was someone next to her now. Someone tall, very tall, and with short red hair mostly covered by a camp ballcap that was casting a shadow over most of his features, making them blurry and hard to make out.
"And before I forget, I have someone I'd like you all to meet! This is our new camp counselor, Max. He will your primary counselor this year and I hope you all treat him with the same respect you treat me. Remember, you're big kids now, with bigger responsibilities. I expect nothing less than perfection. "
She gestured to Max, letting him take the stage while she strutted off to talk to other groups. As he came into the shade, the shadow over his eyes softened, and she could see a pair of watery green eyes. They looked like the algae sludge that covered logs close to shore, smelling of rotten plant matter and sticking to your hands if you touched them. It was when he spoke, however, that her blood ran cold. His lips peeled back,
"I know... I am new here, but hopefully that does not stop us. From becoming familiar. I am looking forwards to us getting to know each other, and I promise I will do everything in my power to make this a.. memorable experience for you all."
Was there something about the way his jaw moved when he talked, or maybe it was his tongue, clicking and rolling around in his mouth like some fattened grub? Was it his hands, or his eyes, that twitched in such an unnerving manner? She didn't know, only that something about Max made her sick. Her palms were tingling, right in the deep middle groove, her stomach doing cartwheels up near her lungs. He was done with his little speech and stood back in apparent expectation, being met with small claps and welcomes from some of the campers. They were dismissed to unpack, Grace picking up her backpack and sprinting to the cabins as fast as she could.
The inside of the Mayfly cabin was one of the oldest, and it showed. She was lucky enough to get a top bunk, but almost wished she hadn't as she stared up at a fat brown spider crawling across a beam on the ceiling. The other campers were on the floor, still talking about one thing or another, she didn't feel like joining them. Sid would have usually crawled up here with her, tucking her long legs into her chest and leaning against the back wall regardless of spiders or rusty nails. Sid was brave and impressive, always the first on the slack line or to jump off the pier. Grace had never been brave or impressive, but Sid never cared. And now she was gone. Grace tried to rationalize that maybe, just maybe she had decided to miss this year, take soccer or stay at home where she probably had loads of friends, cool ones. Yet, something just wasn't sitting right. Her mind kept peeking back at Max, turning his orange dead-leaf hair and sticky eyes over in her head. She turned over in her cot and slowly started unpacking in some effort to get rid of her worries, she was here to have fun. Or try at least.
A The Little Mermaid blanket with a picture of Ursula's human form gasping in rage on one side, Ariel on the other. Her camp pillow, stained on one side from her first year at camp, boring stuff for cleaning she left in her bag alongside the sunscreen and underwear. Two chapter books, one new and one already read twice, a stuffed caterpillar, and a Walkman plus four casettes. She popped open the little door where she put the tapes and gasped with delight. Sitting in the slot was a new cassette, popping it out revealing a note from her father.
"Dear Gracie, have lots of fun at camp. Stay safe and try not to miss us too much. Love, Dad and Mom."
The next three days passed uneventfully, eating greasy mess hall food and trying to get a chance to speak to the two southern kids. They were joined at the hip, never farther than a couple feet from one another, and never ever speaking to anyone else. Everytime she crept closer or sat next to them during dinner, they became silent almost instantly. Only their eyes belied a great fear.
Max was another story. Aside from his strange inflections- which he was mocked for mercilessly in the Mayfly cabin after curfew, he seemed perfectly normal. Normal like jerky or dried fruit. There was just something missing that made the throat dry up and the tongue swallow back. She watched him eat at the counselor's table once after being unsuccessful in her attempts to interrogate the southern kids about Sid. He was holding pleasant comversation with another counselor, tapping his fingers along the dark wood, plate empty. His mouth kept moving, but one eye slid away from his acquaintance and locked with hers. The floor dropped out from under her as he slowly blinked then went back to ignoring her. It was clear as day he knew she had been looking at him, her entire day out on the water was spent in fear. She looked down at her reflection on the lake and thought she saw someone behind her, but there was never anything there.
He caught her after dinner, speed walking towards her cabin. A warm feverish hand clamped down on her shoulder, any semblance of a scream dying in her throat. She turned around, hands shaking as he looked down at her. His face was twisted in something like.... concern? He bent down to her level and suddenly Grace was feeling somewhat confused. With both hands resting on his knees now he spoke softly, how one does when they are trying not to scare a wild animal.
"I know. That we may not have started off on the... right.. foot. But I don't want us to be strangers, eh? Please, let me talk with you by the water and hopefully I can remove some of this border between us."
Why she followed him she never knew, her legs just turned to reeds, and the wind was blowing in that direction. Sitting on the old camp log in the sand, he motioned for her to sit down next to him, and she did. His voice was still soft, trying to be friendly, honey sweet and non-threatening.
"I am aware... that you have been attempting to talk to Michael and Lucile about something. And that something is your friend. Sidney. Yes?"
Her hands dug into the wood, trying to keep them from shaking. How did he-
"She talked about you a lot, truth be told. Was very.... sad to go without getting to see you. But. We had issues between her and another camper. Two, Michael and Lucile, actually. I am. Technically not supposed to talk about this with campers, but you seem trustworthy. I can trust you yes?"
Trust her.... she nodded, if nothing else out of instinct. He nodded back, clicking his worm-tongue and looking out at the water.
"There were old grudges from their town. A feeling of replacement. Jealousy over what one felt to be the other taking a spot that was rightfully theirs. I think. The two started harassing Sid, and. It got bad enough that.... she had to leave. For her own comfort. The head counselor does not like to talk about these things you see. She does not want any one to be afraid. Of anything but her."
His laugh was almost imperceptible, more of a wheeze. It crept out between his teeth, grating on her ears and buzzing in her skull. Her entire body was buzzing, she wanted nothing more than to run, run far away from Max. But something was keeping her there, something new. He said he trusted her, he was talking to her like a person, more than most anyone but Sid talked to her. Sid... Michael and Lucile would do that? Drive away her only friend over some petty grudge? She didn't know what to think.
"I hope, you think about all consequences of your actions. Before you do anything. Some may ignore a... great deal before they find people a problem instead of a background."
And he was gone. Loping back towards the camp, leaving her with the last glow of a dying day.
That night her dreams crawled in and out of terror, she drowned in a green pool of algae before a hand pulled her out, a tall figure wearing Sid's face. It smiled at her with a mouth that stretched outside of its face before dropping her through rotten wood boards, down into a loud noise outside her window. She bolted upright, heart fluttering, skin coated in sweat. There is was again, a sharp tapping on the window by at her feet. Grace took a sharp swallow and crept over the edge, peering down to Lucile's drawn face. They met eyes and she immediately tucked out of view, leaving Grace with the option to go back to her Not Sid and worm-eaten wood or gather her courage and sneak out the door.
Michael wasn't there, and Lucile immediately stepped around the corner of the cabin when she saw Grace, beckoning with a single hand. Grace's feet stayed firmly planted on the porch, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for a counselor that might catch her. Lucile looked back over and made a pleading noise, grasping at something in between them with her hands. It was a please, plain and simple. When Grace still wouldn't budge she sighed and ran over, dragging Grace behind the corner of the cabin. She tried to protest, but Lucile immediately clamped a hand over her mouth and yanked her down to the ground where the two were completely concealed by grass and weeds. Grace met her gaze, a wild one at that. Lucile was more rabbit than person, eyelids twitching and pupils like two small dots despite the dark. To Grace's surprise she spoke, barely a whisper but fervent all the same.
"I can't say much or he'll hear me. The old storage cabin down the old trapper's trail. It's all there. All there all there all-"
Her muttering cut out and she started to get up, not bothering to brush any of the dirt off her nightgown. Grace tried to grab her, saying,
"Who? What's down there... what did you do to Sid?"
But Lucile just shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek as she turned her head and ran back to her cabin.
The rough dirt and stones hurt Grace's feet as she raced down the old trail, lungs heaving and legs carrying her as fast as they could. She gripped her necklace as she ran, the little butterfly becoming slick in her sweaty palms. Trees blurred past her, snapping into her face out of nowhere and making her face sting. The storage cabin came into view, its decaying shape sitting squat and rotten in the small clearing. It held a kind of menace, sending daggers of fear right into her chest, catching her breath and pinning it to her spine. She wanted Max to be right, she wanted to get caught after hours and spend two safe but boring days inside, away from two people she wanted to be nothing more than lying bullies. But, bullies don't get that afraid, she'd never seen someone who was supposed to be a bully that terrified in her life. The door to the cabin was unlocked.
Rot.
Rot and webs and death. The entire inside was covered in webs, carrying something akin to the dead squirrel she had found while helping her dad clean out the yard. Something deeper though, heavy and oppressive. It crushed her and pressed all the air out of her lungs, filling them instead with this foul smell. She started heaving and ran over to a corner of the room to vomit, hand against a wall for support. As her eyes opened she looked down and gave a small cry, involuntary and painful. She screamed and backpedaled, trying to reach the door as quickly as possible, away from the hand of her decaying friend.
She raced out of the cabin and looked up, then froze in her tracks, face already hot with tears. She needed to get out, go back, do something, get her mom tell someone she just wanted to be safe where was her mother where was Sid why that couldn't have been no no no-
He was standing at the end of the pathway, maybe fifteen meters away from her.
She screamed, loud and rough like clearing all the dust and rot from her lungs. He didn't hesitate, just sprinting at her, and she ran as well, back behind the storage cabin and on the continuing trail, wherever it went.
His feet made no noise as he hunted her down the trail, but she heard his voice getting closer and closer. That and the sound of wet popping and cracking, the breaking of bones and tearing of muscle. The silence of his movements was getting more irregular, segmented and jittering. A wet voice gargled at her, rotten breath clawing at her neck.
"I. Told you hhghhhgss told you told you.... stupid little girl."
A wet skinless hand pinned her to the ground, rolling eyes aflame with hunger, fat tongue quivering among needle point teeth. It leered down at her, tracing her cheek with a single boney finger, hissing,
"I think I'll have your hide."
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Potato Break
Ok so i had this idea a while ago and i finally got to writing it. So Thorin, Dwalin go hunting for Thrain and some other Dwarves gone missing end up being captured with Nori and taken to an island prison no one ever escapes. One guard in particular seems intrigued with having Dwarves in a mostly Elf/Man prison and the trio uses that to their advantage.
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“Potatoes, clover octagon anvil.” The words though whispered parted the eyes of the Dwarf Prince lying face down on the ground of the cell he had been thrown into hours prior post interrogation beating to learn his intentions here. All he had wanted was to find his father who had been rumored to have been seen on these islands. It seemed the Elves here still held the same grudges Thingol bore for his kin and were not taking him at his word.
“What?” Dwalin’s voice growled out from the cell across from his and onto his stomach from his side Thorin rolled seeing an arguably concussion fueled view of a short armored Elf turning to his cousin.
“Is that not how to say ‘Pleasant waking’?”
Propped up on an elbow Dwalin’s brows furrowed and he replied, “Not even close.”
To the open pocket journal in the now apparent soft spoken female’s palm she looked giving a soft, “Hmm, was I at least in the same continent?”
“No, Lass,” her look must have instilled some pity in him as he replied the proper way to say the phrase she repeated a couple times to memorize it, each time growing softer.
A distant door slid open and she replied, “Just don’t speak to the one in bronze.” The faint warning came in her path onwards in tucking the journal through a disguised pocket over her belly and on she moved.
That was where it began, the first of five guard switches that day around the patrols of the bronze armored half Troll who took to dragging other inmates out of the hexagonal hall in which he could see Dwalin and Nori, a well known thief they had crossed paths with on their chosen search, each torn out to be beaten and drug off for questioning for no apparent reason at all. This apparent haven for Elves seemed to be far from such as whispers carried that it was now a giant prison, the full island and among the guards that bronze one aimed to be the top, one day to Warden here. Every guard in dull grey or burnt orange falling in line with little pull it seemed with the big guy in Bronze save for their silent mysterious tiny Elleth in polished platinum armor.
Daily there were searches and following her tip they remained in their cells and sneered at but overly ignored while the others were shuffled around to other unseen cells. All at once however the cell doors opened and waves of sparks rippled around the room bounding off the metal grooves and patterns in the floor. Stunningly the tiny Elleth with silver flecked purple eyes and raven hair hinted with what looked to be stars woven throughout the tied back curls contained underneath a platinum headdress woven to protect said locks came into view at the epicenter of the storm. “Yard time.”
Even feet over her head the well taught Elves and Men in the cells around the trio of Dwarves exited and fell into line starting the march through the now open doorway feeding into halls of enchanted glass walkways revealing they were in a lotus shaped tower. Timed to perfection your path led down to an enclosed patch of a garden for one of the leaves where the Dwarves inspected the so called yard they were being led to from the doorway. “To the grass,”
Dwalin turned along with Thorin finding the Elleth shockingly to their chins now on their feet and a foot away. Over her shoulder in the distance they saw other petite Elves with sparks coating their bodies asserting their roles in forcing the prisoners in their yard times without actually harming them, merely playing for show. Stepping inside seeing truly how docile their escort was they complied bowing their heads watching as the doors sealed behind her back when she stepped inside with them.
The Elves and Men either sprawled out simply enjoying the sun through the enchanted glass ceiling or took to making rounds on the stone paths throughout the mile wide leaf shaped enclosure. Nori broke his silence eyeing the woman turning her head to the sun with eyes closed a moment asking, “Do you not leave here each day?”
Again her eyes were open and landed on him answering, “No one leaves.”
Thorin, “Are you prisoner here?”
“Of another sort,” she murmured and began to walk away from them leaving the trio noticing the bronze guard coming into view of their enclosure.
Trying to follow after her Thorin was stopped by a raised foot of a Man faking a dip to a deep back lunge, halting to hear, “Do not follow when the bronze one is watching.”
Plopping down faking a try for splits Nori asked the Man, “Why the big show for bronzey?”
The Man replied pointing to an Elf who flashed a slash scar on his forearm, “He was mistaken for being soft on her, nearly lost his arm for it. She is the oldest of the captured Vanyar that we can tell, from that the strongest making her the chosen future intended for Bronze. He did that to him and nearly broke a wall slamming her into it for giving him hope. Three months later she was back on our rounds with a limp for another two. For being clad in platinum they are no safer than we are.”
Thorin, “How many cells have you been through?”
Man, “Fifteen,” nodding to another Elf across the way bowing his head to you in your passing ensuring he was a safe distance in the second passing of the bronze guard, “Hear he’s been to ninety seven.”
Dwalin rumbled, “How many levels are there to this hell?”
The scarred Elf replied, “5279 cells for us and another 500 for the adult guards.”
Thorin, “Wait, adult, guards? There are children here?”
The Man replied, “One way to keep a Vanyar prisoner to do your bidding. No one knows where they are kept, but you can hear their songs and giggles twice a month when they are granted reunions here in the gardens.”
The scarred Elf said, “Hear she’s got four little ones. Though you can only tell by the etchings on their wrists and hers had only been glimpsed when Bronze nearly broke her arm.”
Thorin asked, “Hear anything of other Dwarves?”
Man nodded, “Yes, bout five months back she took to practicing Dwarf tongue. Hoped to have one rotated to her ward, never met a Dwarf before seemed like. Now she’s got three to try and speak to.”
Scarred Elf asked, “What brings you here?”
Thorin replied, “Looking for someone.”
Waiting for the next round of their guard the trio remained stretching in the sun their bodies soaked in around their shorts and one shouldered shirts given to them to wear. Ignoring their missing armor and belongings while tattoos meant to be private were on full or partial display. Thorin broke the silence asking lowly, “We hear there were more Dwarves brought here some months back. You wouldn’t happen to know their names would you?”
Once the bronze guard was out of sight again she replied, “One of the Trolls was taunting him with a song rhyming with rain, if that rings a bell.”
Thorin, “Thrain? Was it Thrain?”
Her eyes met his and she replied, “It does rhyme. Perhaps.”
“Could you get him a message to check?” Dwalin asked only seeing the Man shaking his head.
Another Man came over to fake help the first Man to stretch his arms behind his back, “I am due for another shake down tomorrow, we could pass word faster. Possibly get an answer by end of the week.”
Nori, “So long?”
Second Man, “That is with my stop to the Infirmary, word from the Crematorium is faster if you would rather fake your death.”
Scarred Elf shook his head, “Do not do that, far too painful and they don’t feed you for a month after dragging you back to your cell.”
Dwalin, “What is this place?”
“Nuneiffe, Master Dwarf.” The name struck their hearts to the core as they had hoped to have found Numenor, not these cursed islands of those to never return halfway between Middle Earth and Valinor. Around again she strolled folding her hands together behind her back.
.
That was how it was and for a week they waited for word of any whisper back from that Elf who did in fact send word through that same quiet guard simply whispering, “Thrain,” Each rounding of the hall had another name whispered for the group confirming at least their rumor was true.
Another whisper seemed to change things between hushed mini lessons on Khuzdul on her shifts when one of the trio was awake on watches to somehow try and ensure they did not get separated. All still badly bruised from their interrogations nursing their injuries as best they could. “What is your home like?” It was an innocent question but distracted easily from what was occurring around them remembering Erebor greatly in need of its Crown Prince and the heir third in line.
.
Months of whispered conversations and full view of a stomach churning streak of Bronze’s fingers across her back and the glare on Thorin’s face said it all. Her withheld shudder in the lean closer offering a private dinner in a dining hall sounding to be exclusive and far from what their guard seemed to be given daily. Loudly a Man across the way however fired an insult at the agreeing Elf spotting the sparks coating her palm in a close to losing control moment ended with Bronze snarling and having the Man drug away, who flashed a stolen nod her way in solidarity.
Distant shouts in a sharp darkness signaled another floor had tried to riot leading to a shut down for two weeks after, the result clearly hinted by the scarred Elf that the floor had been exterminated guards and all. Thankfully empty of Vanyar guards at the time sparing the mothers of those children no doubt orphaned in the event of their deaths.
*
Enough was enough though once you had reached your quarters and pulled from behind a loose hollowed out stone in the wall a communicator you had fashioned from scraps here and there. Lifting the receiver you shifted the frequency knob until you caught the faint rumble of Khuzdul growing louder the farther you turned the dial. Pressing the metal stubs you tapped out the code for the message you had been passed by the trio to send for a rescue. Following static silence a message tapped back and through the line a voice rang out, “Floating lotus, what is the status of the Tiny Donkeys?”
“Tiny Donkeys have squandered their flaming cumquats.”
Laughter sounded through the line and you could hear the Dwarf tapping something no doubt to the desk he was at before calming enough to ask in a laugh, “What?”
After a huff you replied, “Tiny Donkeys are here and ready to go home. I don’t have time for the codes I live in a glass house and the guards are looping back around in three minutes. What do you need?”
Through the system the schematics of the prison were sent complete with all the details of the rounds you knew of with options of where they might be keeping the children. That final detail on the schematics once translated by the Elven Council from Greenwood the Great who joined in to the rescue mission rallying every flying craft from all Elven territories and those from the Numenor volunteering as well. Hiding the communicator again after signing off with the formerly laughing Dwarf you went to sleep. One more no however to a dinner offer had you limping back to your rounds the following day battered and bruised in time for a round in the yard.
*
“Where is Gimlelul?” (My Brightest Star) The meaning of the term had gone unknown for those in the cells surrounding, however they were familiar with the Prince having given you that name after being told the guards were forbidden their names upon assignment. Both his companions giving variations on said term when speaking with Thorin no doubt hinting what they imagined to be true, he in some way was holding that as his term for you alone only worrying the others on if Bronze had caught wind of it yet.
The newest arrival spoke up through his wheezes due to his badly battered ribs, stiff jaw and busted lips from his last shake down, “Platinum for this floor got Gnurfdelt rounds.”
That seemed to turn the others pale making the Dwarves Look around and Nori to ask, “What is that?”
The newest arrival wheezed back, “Wargs, Cave Trolls and the occasional guard are put to physical test.”
Dwalin, “What test?” Thorin gripped the bars of his cell wishing he could tear it free to go scouring for you imagining the worst.
“They are bound and thrown in a chasm, breaking loose, then they face the earth worms, and the serpents of fire.” Panting a few times he paused then added, “Only one, is freed.”
Thorin, “So she has a chance?”
Again post wheeze the voice replied, “Once platinum kills the others, yes. Then they will be freed.”
The notion didn’t sit well with the trio hoping you would return and with a burst of electricity through the hall they shot up and to the sound of soft pants you came into view badly bruised on one side of your face with a cut on the other cheek and a badly bandaged three fingers on the left hand ending the arm refusing to move hinting at an injury higher up as well. “Gimlelul” Thorin murmured and stepped to the doorway catching a tear falling down your cheek in a turn to round the hall silently leading the others onwards.
Clearly you were refusing Bronze and paying dearly for it, close behind you Dwalin rumbled on the way into the garden, “We are not leaving without you or your bairns.”
Nori confirmed, “Not at one.”
Again you went to circle and murmured back, “Sponge.” Thorin turned his head confirming you weren’t being watched then looked back to you as you added, “That is all I caught of the message last night. Something near to sponge.”
Dwalin and Nori closed in with Thorin in their usual exercise rounds muttering possible messages it could have been, all coming up to be taken as hints they would be freed soon. Bronze even in your weakened state seemed angrier than ever remaining away for once distant while he no doubt planned his next course allowing you time to heal. And once again songs and laughter filled the halls stirring grins the mothers were back with their children.
On his feet however Nori called to Thorin, “Not Sponge, Songs!” Before the two could turn their heads to their Companion the lights turned dark to a distant muffled explosion. Silence and quickly hushed cries came from the yards no doubt where the mothers were shielding their young from the ships above blasting the focal points of the security fail safes meant to guard the prison from intruders who were never a threat until now.
Floor by floor the prison was searched and each hall thrown open with doors let loose once each floor was cleared. The Bronze went down with his fellow Troll and Orc troupe while each yard was carefully broken into and loaded up into ships already fully stocked and prepared to help contain and entertain little ones on the two week long voyage back. There was no certainty on where you were going, if it would be any better than how it had been and with naval carriers on their way to evacuate the remaining prisoners to be brought out of this cursed island.
“Gimlelul, Gimlelul,” Thorin muttered the name after having boarded the third ship to check for you. Thrain, Fundin and their brother Rungt were among the two Firebeard Dwarves also rescued and presumed missing. Peering through every hall and common room left open he scoured until in the corner of a room he found you lounging on a fainting couch in a circle of four toddlers and nine older children constructing paper animals. All wearing the gifted clothes the Elves had brought of looser tunics and pants to free you from your armor. The couch no doubt brought for you in your battered state slowly mending with Elvish creams and baths offered to any injured so you might relax.
And moving closer at a slow pace Thorin cleared his throat once a few steps away bringing up the variety of eye and hair color combinations on the children around you save for the two toddlers nestled on your right side. “Gimlelul” his head nodding at you when you caught his eye, “Here you are. I wished to be certain of your safety, and to thank you properly.”
“We are the ones in your debt, Prince Thorin.”
Hastily he wet his lips and replied, “My Grandfather has sent word, he and King Thranduil of he lands neighboring ours have taken to crafting a city between ours in the forests there. Though, I had hoped through your recovery we might convince you to stay in Erebor?” His eyes shifted over the children and he asked, “Are these your Pebbles?”
The tone hopeful as if to gain their friendship on merely seeming interested in attempting to befriend them right away had the Dwarves in the hall trying not to chuckle or smirk in your reply, “My twins,” you said patting the heads of your identical obvious relatives and in patting the heads of the other twin girls on your left you stated, “My Sisters,” waving a hand to the other older children, “And brothers.”
He looked them all over and you added, “I alone have seen Vanyar, in ripples I remind them of our tales and names while their Naneth’s nurse our orphans.” An Elleth came into the doorway and in Elvish called to the children who glanced your way and earned a hushed response in the lullaby-like language spreading nods from the children, the oldest of whom lifted the twin girls to carry back to their mother waiting for them leaving you with Thorin and your own twins.
Wetting his lips again he moved closer and crouched asking again, “Might I convince you to grant us charge to your recovery in Erebor. Show you our city properly once you are healed fully. Allow us to offer you the protection you had granted us.”
“I kept you in your cages.”
Dwalin, “You warned us, every turn and bump.”
Nori nodded, “Gave us hints, confirmed the safety of our kin and phoned home for us. Please, let us try to repay your kindness.”
King Oropher from the doorway paused seeing you so badly injured out of the other hundreds of untouched female guards and children then stated, “Kind Lady, pray do take their offer, or their kin will never release their debts and merely encourage other races to beg in their favor. Then once you have toured their halls do accept a tour of ours. All your kin will be amply welcome while all the Numenor are grateful to have their kin returning to them.”
“One condition, one of you must bring me one of your goats to examine. I am quite curious of them from Prince Thorin’s tales.”
Dwalin chuckled and bowed his head, “Our herds are at your disposal once you are up and about, kind Lass.”
Another Vanyar Elleth came to fetch your twins seeming to try and lull you to rest as two Silvan Elleths brought a draught mixed cup of juice to help you sleep that you accepted while the other readied more creams to add to your bruised face along with more bandages to change the ones on your arm and feet. Watching the Dwarves and Elf King bow their heads and turn to leave to grant you privacy you inhaled and called out, “Prince Thorin?” For a moment he paused to look back at you hearing you say, “Jaqiearae Peareon of the line of Ingnroion. Though you may keep to your title for me should you wish it.”
“I shall remember that, thank you for entrusting us to your acquaintance.” Keeping his gaze a few moments you exhaled then lifted the glass to drink it and hand it over for the pair to get to redressing your bandaged limbs and digits. Carefully ensuring not a one was left untreated while you dozed off into a nice deep sleep waking just that much closer to the kingdom of Dwarves eager to greet the one who had brought their kin home and clearly stolen their Prince’s heart.
@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween
x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor
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This took a long long long time... so here’s the excerpt that goes with it!
Gone were the days when he could play with his brothers.
Summer evenings used to be for play, as heat dissipated and people were given a reason to ease their activities. Even if summers were cool in Sanchi – Uorachia’s popular name; even if Shun and Shinobu studied together, while Isamu, being much older, was still relegated to solitary learning, and even if their father was as stern as always, summer evenings were for play.
Trying to step on Isamu’s toes, in a literal sense, was an activity that wasn’t relegated to just summer – Shinobu seemed especially keen on it, and would actually keep a score of hits and misses, trying his absolute best to catch his older brother off guard. And while that was often not the case, the boy was getting better at strategizing and making his intents not known.
And after their lessons were over Shun approached him eagerly:
“Castle! Castle! Let’s play castle!!”
The purpose of that particular game was to tear down a castle or fortress made out of a few rocks and it’s ‘inhabitants’. It began as a game of ‘bringing down nii-san’s pile of rocks’, then Isamu proposed they both have fortresses. And Shun and Shinobu had their own small castle, near the stables, but it was rather disorganized and most of the time, left unattended. It was too easy to bring down – and Isamu didn’t want that; the boys worked hard and their brother used actual harmful knowledge that’s been drilled into him since age 11. So over time Isamu became the sole owner of a fortress, and more and more the game resembled warfare. The thought of that became hard to bear, the thought of having to teach his brothers strategies to more efficiently take down enemies in a silent, least invasive ambush, made his heart clench, then drum when he had to actually enact it.
The gameplay consistent of his brothers, armed with small bows with padded arrows, trying to knock over the stones of Isamu’s castle, which over the years, truly became something similar to a small fort. The game could take hours – once all the important bits of the wall were down Shun and Shinobu had to hunt Isamu down.
“You’d like that Shinobu?”
The boy approached his brothers, looked at his nii-san with questioning eyes-
Then tried to step on Isamu’s foot. He jumped out of the way, but in his attempt to not trip Shun, his toes were, in fact, touched. Shinobu smiled pleased.
“You are getting truly good at this.” Isamu said.
A mocking bow and a delighted wide smile, complete with bright eyes – Isamu couldn’t contain his own glee.
“Yeah, let’s play!” Shinobu said.
“Yes!” Shun jumped up, and away, towards the armory. “I made some new arrows! They’re a bit heavier, but travel faster. I think?”
“Show me!” Isamu encouraged him, following Shun, who took out from a hidden corner a bag filled with about a dozen small arrows with a thick shaft and a tip made of blunted lead wrapped in layers of cloth.
He handed them to Isamu; nii-san weighed them. They were indeed heavy, and rather sturdy too.
“Can I test them out?”
“Sure!” Shun replied, picking up the small bows.
The abandoned fortress near the sables became target practice. The arrows whistled from the bow, rocks fell easily.
“Nice shot! Can I try too?” Shinobu asked, and his brother handed him the bow.
Shinobu inhaled, drew the string and the arrow fell heavy, budging a stone from its place, but without actually knocking it away. He huffed.
“I’ll do better next time.”
“You sure will.” Isamu encouraged with a smile. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way!” Shinobu cheered.
Isamu ran to his fortress, armed with nothing but more bricks to rebuild his damaged walls, while his brothers had 6 arrows each. Both of them were unique, and the older they got the more their personalities emerged as distinct-
And it wasn’t long before Shinobu shot from behind a thicker tree from the orchard. It landed, but only shifted the stone around, however while ducking, Isamu’s clothes knocked it over.
“Shit-”
The next arrow went for his head: that was Shun’s; the boy was more meticulous, with an interest in tactics and calculus. The fear of getting his head shot was then replaced with the anxiety of witnessing his brother grow too proficient- But too much thought ended with Isamu once again knocking over his own fortress.
As such nii-san stood up and took a step away, laid on his abdomen, hands trying to repair the damage done: Isamu’s grown too big for this fortress and his brothers noticed and took advantage of it.
Now, with Isamu not in sight, the boys tried their best to take the walls down. 4 and 6 years, respectively, meant a great difference in what young bodies could do: their attacks lacked force, but their minds seemed much keener than Isamu’s own – or at least that’s how he felt. Some extra perceptive abilities and suddenly Isamu was some sort of god-
The wall to his right fell almost completely.
Isamu stood back up to try and rebuild it, but Shinobu ran towards the wall on his left and with arrows in both his hands poked the stones down.
He was compromised; Isamu jumped up and ran across the orchard as fast as he could.
He didn’t pause to notice that he was running towards the forest. Isamu stopped and Shinobu did so as well:
“You’re no fun letting us win.” Shun lamented, catching up.
“We’re not allowed in the forest...” Isamu didn’t want his brothers punished for his obsession with those trees – he’s been there too many times, scolded just as many for his foolishness.
“But we’re not there yet.” Shinobu added.
Isamu turned: “Come, let’s get some sweets, you’ve taken the fortress down in record time.”
“Nii-san... You don’t fit in the castle anymore...” Shinobu said as if the truth was obvious to anyone except for Isamu himself, and Shun laughed copiously.
“Hey, you’ve improved too!”
“You don’t have to make up kind words.” Shinobu replied, devoid of warmth.
And Isamu’s mouth was sealed shut; blood ran cold, and then it boiled. There was no praise for them outside of their eldest brother’s...
So, sweets were most definitely in order.
He patted Shinobu’s back with a smile, nudging him forward:
“If you want to chase me, catch me at Oba-san’s shop!” Isamu grinned, starting at a sprint.
“Hey! That’s cheating!” Shun protested, while he was being left behind by his other older brother as well.
Oba-san lived in an old estate that used to belong to the root Fujiwara family, until they moved to a larger, northerner estate, that was much rather a castle in its own right. That house passed down to the Satou, wealthy as well. The woman didn’t like to talk about herself and she might have not been part of the clan at all – but she made some damn good sweets and people stopped caring about heritage. In fact, she has even opened a small shop, people placing orders for sweets for anniversaries, traditional celebrations and, best of all, new year’s. The perks of being a Katou, living so close to Oba-san, was the ability to beg for the ‘ugly’ sweets before new year then stuffing their faces with mochi before the actual celebration. Surprisingly, they were never caught – Oba-san and the maids stuck up for them.
And they ran all the way there, the three of them out of breath by the end. Oba-san noticed them already and was rummaging in the back of the store for something. Shinobu and Shun rushed to the counter to peer over it. Isamu tried not to look impolite so he kept his distance - he wasn’t well liked by the town, and even the clan had little appreciation for the Katou. Isamu was deemed dangerous to be around; mothers warned their children about him and men preferred to keep their distance. Inside the clan’s area people kept quiet; some boys spat at him. Only a few months ago a Satou kid, someone’s cousin, started hurling slurs at Isamu – he beat the boy half to death. His father was furious, whipping his son until the scars would forever mark Isamu’s back. He couldn’t sleep for a whole week-
Isamu was jolted from his memories by the clatter of small porcelain plates with none other than kuzu-manju on it: round, about the size of Shun’s palm, almost translucent, with bean paste in the middle, and all wrapped in a shiso leaf. The brothers cheered ecstatic – it was a rare treat, usually all they got were some dango:
“My nephew became 14 – almost a man already!” Oba-san said. “I made these for him and had some left-overs. Kept them cool just for you, boys.”
Shun downed the first dumpling with lightning speed; Isamu was worried he’d choke, but then he went for the second.
“Isamu, have one too, dear.” Oba-san insisted, and the teenager took a step forward and took the sweet – it had to go in one quick mouthful or he feared it’ll slobber over himself.
Isamu couldn’t contain his smile while chewing it: cool, sweet, watery, with the added freshness of the leaf. The woman smiled, pleased.
Somehow, he always went back to that smile, as if it alone represented all the kindness in the world. But it’s been a year since and gone were those days, because Isamu had to become a man in truth. He’ll be 19 in winter, his genpuku celebration, denoting the formal take-over of the role of a Shinobi, has been postponed again and again – due to Isamu’s misbehavior. But he wanted it so, or he feared he’ll lose even that small smile from Oba-san as she indulged a too-old-to-be boy a sweet.
His father warned that Matsudaira Noburu’s tutelage would be his final lesson. And Matsudaira Noburu was a man just like his father: a cruel, petty man with enough wit to hide it behind pretty words and promises. Noburu just wasn’t bound by blood to Isamu, and his disgust had to be veiled with etiquette. Although, as Katou found out in the four months under the Matsudaira’s tutelage, Noburu was quite pleased with his performance even if his attitude was ‘rather insolent for a noble Fujiwara’ – as he put it.
Isamu desperately wished not to become just another harsh patriarch, a scheming murderer that sought pride and glory in the death of others. But the deeper into his past he looked Isamu feared he saw less and less differences between himself and the men he despised. Last year, at 17, he beat that Satou, and he’s been merciless since, having enacted at least a dozen assassinations alongside Noburu’s cousin, Matsudaira Yuuta. Many of those weren’t even warriors; maybe they didn’t even deserve to die. But it didn’t start there. At 14 he was taken outside Uorachia on a military campaign; returned two year later – they wanted him a man then; it didn’t happen, Isamu had his brothers to bring play back. But even before that, since he was 11: Isamu’s been punished with war and death. They taught him to kill since he was 11.
They wanted him ruthless, to become the feared warrior his ‘eyes’ prophesied.
And Isamu thought these past months finally managed to break what little was left to enjoy, memories of war brought back, skills to be used as learned. Now his father could be proud.
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Not Dead Yet (Part 69)
nice
Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan
Warnings: language
The months keep flying by and I was growing numb to the nightmares. They came and they hurt but after the panic stopped they would fade back into a terrible memory. I think it was the songs Peter would play that helped lessen their effects. It couldn’t stop them but it made living with them more bearable.
Strangely it was the only time I ever saw him play them anymore. Anything involving magic Peter had all but ceased. It was for the best. He wasn’t looking great these days. He wasn’t letting on about it but I knew the curse was hitting him harder than usual. I offered to go to Skull Rock and check on the hourglass for him but he refused.
I know why he didn’t want me going there. Ever since I came home months ago he was handling me like I was a child. He was quiet and soothing and didn’t tease nearly as much as he used to. I would find it refreshing if it wasn’t for the fact that it wasn’t my Peter. My Peter was smug and energetic and pulling me into an embrace every five minutes. I missed him. Irritating arrogance and all.
I was out with Devin fixing up a new place for Wendy to stay in. We found an elevated cave far away enough from the camp to be comfortable but not so far that she’s ostracized like Tinkerbell and Tigerlily. She was never comfortable in the camp and after one of the boys tried to come onto her, an event that ended in a bloody mess and dismembered arm, it was time to get her out of there.
It was as we were heading out to show Wendy the spot we found that we came across her sitting in a tree weaving a long flower chain. “Hello bird,” I waved to her, “There a reason you’re killing all these flowers?”
“Bored. It also makes me feel like I’m not wasting my day somehow.” she sighed. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for you actually. We found a new place for you.”
“Great.” she hopped out of the tree and coiled the flower chain into a basket. “Show me?”
“Follow me.” I walked her to the cave. Devin decided to head back to camp to see if Ben and Nick had returned with the stuff for the new room.
We climbed up into the cave and Wendy looked around the bare earthen walls and nodded. “It’s...nice.”
“I have Ben and Nick out pinching some stuff so it is more homey. An actual bed and a wash basin. That kinda stuff.” I shrugged. “Better?”
“Much.” she smiled warmly, “I know you didn’t have to do any of this. I really appreciate it though.”
“Well you’re trapped here indefinitely and you were never at ease staying in the camp. This way you have your own space and privacy.” I looked at the mouth of the cave, “Did you want a wall here? We can put one up to keep out the elements if you do.”
“If we do that then we’d also have to put in a door. Would it be just a cut out or--”
“Y/N!” Devin came rushing into the cave.
“What’s got you fired up?” I cocked an eyebrow up at him.
“I was heading back to camp and I saw Pan. He doesn’t look too good. I thought it best to get you. You’re the only one that he’ll let close enough to actually take care of him.”
“That idiot. I told him to take it easy.” I rolled my eyes and left the cave. “Where is he?”
Devin told me where Peter was. Wendy was following shortly behind. Strangely enough she looked worried. I know that her and Peter weren’t on the best of terms since she returned but now she was concerned. I didn’t know what to make of that. Maybe the two were turning over a new leaf.
When we did find Peter it wasn’t what I was expecting. I was prepared to see Peter a little pale and maybe having some trouble standing straight. The reality was worse.
“Peter!” I ran to him. The smell of blood and bile stung my nose. I looked down and the sight of the bloody vomit sent my anxiety through the roof. “Oh gods, what happened?”
“It’s nothing.” he mumbled. His skin was clammy and he was shaking violently. His usual tan skin was now tinged a sickly green. He wasn’t like this this morning. What the hell had happened?
“No it isn’t.” Wendy spoke up. Peter sent her dirty look at Wendy. She seemed rather unfazed by all of this.
“Wendy, do you know what’s going on here?” I tried to keep my voice even.
She sighed and took a step back. “The curse has worsened.”
“Shut it!” Peter growled at her.
“The curse worsened again? Why?” I snapped at Peter.
“Because he confessed that he has feelings for you.” Wendy glared at him.
“I will cut out your damned tongue!” he tried to lash out at her but she was too far away and he was too weak to follow through.
“What! That was months ago! You’ve been like this for months?” I rounded back on Peter.
“Yes.” Wendy took another step back as Peter tried to get closer, “He’s been hiding it from you. I told him not to. Tigerlily told him not to either. He wouldn’t listen.”
“I swear to all the gods--”
“Who else knows about this?” I silenced him.
“Felix and Tinkerbell.” Wendy said.
“Four people know about this and I am not one of them.” There was a lot going through my head right now. “Wendy, leave. I need to speak to Peter alone.”
She turned and raced away leaving Peter and I alone.
Neither of us spoke. I needed time to process all of this. When I calmed down enough to not immediately scream I spoke. “How long?”
He pulled himself back up to standing. “It took a bad turn after I told you--”
“Not that. How long do you have left?” I glared at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“A year,” he whispered, “maybe less.” He gathered his strength and shuffled to my side. His arms reached to hold me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?!” I shoved him as hard as I could and he fell back to the ground, “Sorry doesn’t excuse this! Why didn’t you tell me about this? I thought there was no more secrets between us! Why have you been lying to me?!”
“Pet, please,” he winced as he sat back up. I felt bad for putting him in more pain but I wasn’t going to apologize. Not for this.
“No! I am not pet or precious or your Lost Girl right now! I am Y/N and I want to know why you have been keeping this from me!”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Worry me! The curse has worsened and there is a high chance that you could die within the year and you thought the best thing to do was keep that from me?”
“I know. I know! I shouldn’t have kept this from you. Things were in a delicate place between us and you were still recovering from being tortured I thought it best to not say anything. Not so soon anyways.”
“You idiot!” I dropped to my knees across from him, “I can handle it! I came back and nothing was going to make me leave because I--I--”
Stop. Keep it together.
I took a deep breath and met his eyes once again, calmer, “Peter, this is because of me, isn’t it?”
“No. Y/N, I know what you’re thinking but this isn’t your fault.”
“Not my fault? The curse worsens when you’re too happy in life. Months ago I came home and told you that I...and you said…” I forced back the tears trying to escape, “How isn’t this my fault?”
“Because it’s my curse. Not yours. Anything that goes wrong is on me. You understand?”
“You’re dying…” I whispered, my voice hoarse, “You’re dying faster and faster and there isn’t anything I can do about it. I’m only making it worse. I’m killing you and I hate that. I hate this stupid curse. I hate that you being happy worsens it. I hate that I’m probably gonna lose you. Most of all I hate that the reason I’m going to lose you is because you decided I was worth saving all those years ago. If you had just left me to die in the Enchanted Forest or let me die one of the many ways I should have when I came to Neverland then none of this would be happening!”
“Don’t talk like that!”
“If I had just stayed in the Enchanted Forest--”
“No! I meant what I said when I need you. I need you now more than ever. We’re staying together. End of story.” He grasped my shoulders. It was taking all his strength to keep up this conversation. Maybe I shouldn’t have shoved him.
“What are we gonna do?”
“We’ll think of something. Peter Pan never fails after all.”
“You’re such an ass.” I scoffed but it came out more like a laugh. These emotional tidal waves were wreaking havoc on my last remaining shreds of sanity.
“And there’s no getting rid of me.” he kissed my forehead, “I promise.”
“Your word is your bond. I know.” I held him tightly. “You’ve made a lot of promises to me, Peter, and you’ve always kept them in some capacity. This time though is when I need you to keep it.”
“On my life.” he chuckled lightly.
“You’re really not funny.” I buried my face further in his chest.
“That is where you are wrong. I am hilarious in all situations.”
“Is there anything I can do? Anything to makes this better?”
“Stay.” he smoothed out my hair as he spoke, “I know how you think and I know you would leave out of guilt if you thought it would make me better. I don’t want you to though. I need you here. No matter what happens. I want you here for it.”
“Okay. I’ll be right here. No matter how this ends. I’ll be here.” He knows me too well.
“Good.” he kissed me softly. “Now how about we lay down. I am in so much pain right now.”
We laid down in the grass as Peter told me what was happening with the hourglass and how much time he could buy by limiting his energy. Most of his energy had been used in keeping up a glamour around me and the boys so no one could tell how sickly he really looked. I told him he didn’t have to around me anymore. If it helped I wanted him to do it.
We brainstormed ideas on how to stretch out his remaining time as long as possible. They were scraps. Barely tangible bits of hope but it was all we had. I guess I believed that if we could scrounge enough up then it would turn into a cure.
(First) (Previous) (Next)
#i regret nothing#(i actually regret everything)#slowburn#peter pan ouat#ouat peter pan#ouat#peter pan imagine#peter pan x reader#neverland
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Professional Fan-finder
To prove a point that I don’t only write angst, I tried my hand at a more silly and cute kind of fic? I hope it’s satisfactory. @bespectacledfanmaiden As an apology for breaking you out of your happy magical girl funk, please accept this. XD
“Liu-shidi?” Shen Qinqiu stopped in his tracks to stare at Liu Qingge who… had some leaves in his hair? Upon closer inspection, he noticed that his clothes had dust clinging to it as well. Had there been a fight he didn’t know about? “What happened?”
“Hmph.”
He’d loathe admitting to it, but he’d been made to duck underneath trees, shrubs, and get down low to look for a rogue animal.
Shen Qingqiu had lost something and Liu Qingge took it upon himself to help him look for this missing object. Who knew it would result in him going on a wild goose chase after a crafty cat.
At first, he noticed a stray feline playing with something underneath a tree. It was a tassel that was attached to the base of Shen Qingqiu’s spare fan. He’d approached the cat, but it took one good look at his face and ran off!
It first clawed its way up a tree before it leaped from branch to branch.
Why this peak was surrounded by all this plant-life was turning out to be such an annoyance, making it hard to easily locate the rogue feline.
Once he made his way up the tree, he saw the cat jump down from a branch and into a shrub. Blasted thing!
Liu Qingge the master of Bai Zhan Peak… was chasing after a cat with a fan in its mouth. He’d even resorted to those tongue clicking sounds! Guess they only work on dogs, because the cat only hissed at him before it ran off again.
That cat vaguely reminded him of Shen Qingqiu. Cats seemed aloof and uncaring, but they had a temper. They will scratch you without warning, much like how he’ll smack the forehead of his disciple with his fan at random, scolding him over who knows what.
Chasing after the feline, he had it cornered against a large boulder. “I won’t hurt you.” He quietly attempted to coax the cat closer to him willingly. “I only want the fan.”
Hiss!
“It belongs to someone precious to me.” He spoke sternly, making the cats ears fold flat against its head.
“Please.” He used a helpless tone this time, and it seemed to do the trick.
Perhaps the cat felt pity towards him and it slowly stepped closer to him, hopping into his lap, rubbing its head up against his chest, purring loudly. Liu Qingge froze, not expecting for this to have happened. Was a momentary sign of ‘weakness’ the key to everything?
It was… kind of cute.
That silky smooth fur was pleasant to the touch, and the sound of the cat’s loud purr was… soothing, somehow. Having had its full of rubbing against him and being pet, it released the tassel from its mouth, dropping the fan into Liu Qingge’s lap.
Once it did this, it ran off into the bushes.
It was sad to see it go so soon, but he got what he came for.
Just as he’d retrieved the fan, he’d come across the wandering man.
That’s how Liu Qingge found himself in this present situation.
Without having the time to straighten out his appearance, he was caught by Shen Qingqiu. Why did you have such horrid timing? Mentally rolling his eyes, he thrust the spare fan into Shen Qingqiu’s chest. “I found it.”
“Oh. Liu-shidi has found my missing fan? I’m grateful, but I wonder why it is that Liu-shidi always finds my fans.” He wondered aloud as he hid his face behind his fan as always.
Who knows why you constantly lose them when they’re like an extension of your own arm? No one had the answer to the question, and Liu Qingge wanted to go back to his own peak and bathe the filth off himself.
Chuckle.
“What’s funny?” If you dare tell him you laughed because of his appearance, he’ll take his sword and hack you into pieces (No, he’s not serious).
“Oh, I was thinking that even enlisting Luo Binghe’s help couldn't help me locate this fan. It seems Liu-shidi is the most reliable (fan-finder) person. Thank you again. Why don’t you stop by for a cup of tea?” You’d think that the protagonist of the novel would be able to find the fan.
Why aren’t you using your protagonist powers to help you with minor tasks like this? How shameful are you as a protagonist if your martial-uncle has to do your job for you?
Maybe the fans just loved Liu Qingge so much that that’s why he was always able to locate them?
It was just a fan, but why was it so important? Liu Qingge could never understand, but it was similar to how no one would understand why hearing the words ‘you’re so reliable’ meant so much to him.
“Save it for next time.” Liu Qingge huffed, patting down his thigh to dust off the dirt that clung to his clothes. The other got the hint that he wanted to return to his own peak and clean himself off. He wasn’t overly particular about his image like Shen Qingqiu, but even he didn’t want to stop for tea looking like a mess.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Liu-shidi.” Though half his face was covered by the fan, it was easy to tell he was smiling by the way his eyes curved into a gentle crescent shape.
Slowly, he raised a hand to pick a leaf out of Liu Qingge’s hair. “Don’t keep me waiting too long. I would appreciate it if Liu-shidi visited more often.” You were an excellent taxi-service, fan-finder, and also a great wall of defense.
The multi-purpose shidi! The ‘original scum’ was truly too stupid to make an enemy out of him and not save him! Hmph! He’d never understand it.
“Hmph. Bye.” With a curt farewell, Liu Qingge hopped onto his sword and flew off in a hurry. Worried that a redness would show on his face, he escaped.
“SHIIIZZUUUNNN, this disciple is so worthless to not have located your fan yet.” An aggrieved voice reached his ears from the sky.
“Useless! Dry your tears. Your martial-uncle has helped this master retrieve his fan. Fix your appearance, so unruly.” The master scolded the teary-eyed disciple.
He wins this round, demon.
#bespectacledfanmaiden#scum villain#svsss#neo writes drabbles#((i don't know if this really even counts as a happy fic since i feel it's more silly but i had to write a warm up thing))#((gotta get myself into non-angsty liu qingge lol))#((hope it's a cute and funny read?))
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yo mate I love your writing, could you do something about Draco and harry babysitting teddy?
((full disclosure, this is going to be a part of a mini-series; i’ve got several requests for drarry with teddy))
((Part 1)) ((Part 2)) ((This is Part 3)) ((Part 4)) ((Part 5))
Harry and Draco exchanged a look when they stepped away from the apparation point. “Are we in the right place?”
Draco shrugged, “Unlikely that there would be more than one bakery in the area called ‘Too Much Sugar’, yeah?”
Harry did not mean to ask the question aloud. He was more surprised that Draco answered him at all. After a pause that was just long enough to be awkward, he asked, “It looks a bit, I don’t know, upscale? Especially for a group of five-year-olds.”
“Maybe to you,” Draco said.
Harry was waiting for Draco to turn it into a harsh remark about Harry’s childhood or some other easy target. He was surprised by how guilty he felt when Draco didn’t say anything nasty.
They entered the shop to the intense smell of sugar and a mess of other smells that Harry recognized but couldn’t name. Harry and Draco were among the first to arrive but were quickly waved over to a table in the cafe section of the shop.
Liz was seated at a small round table near the front window. “You both made it! It’s so good to see you. The bus won’t be here for another ten minutes or so if you wanted to grab a tea or a coffee. They’re good. Have you been here before?”
“No, but a friend of mine mentioned it. She likes the blackberry mousse tart,” Draco said.
Harry didn’t mind letting him carry the conversation. Watching Draco interact with Liz was like watching a special kind of magic. When he was with Teddy, Draco was dramatic and playful. Talking to Liz, he could easily match her energy and enthusiasm. With Harry, he wasn’t anything at all; at least, not anymore.
Harry didn’t care, of course, but he wondered if he could make Draco smile the way he was smiling at Liz. Maybe Draco really did find her that funny. Harry didn’t realize he was staring at Draco until they made eye contact. Draco’s smile faltered before he looked past Harry to the line of children leading into the shop.
Andy, the shop owner, gave them a quick tour of the main floor. He let them step into the walk-in cooler, showed them what ten kilograms of chocolate ganache looked like, and let each of the children try on the oven mitts. Once through the kitchens, they were led to the upper floor.
With a sweep of his arm, Andy welcomed them into the room, “Welcome to class. Today we’re going to decorate cake!”
Harry never saw a dozen small children move with such efficiency. They ran in a tight cluster toward the smocks hanging from hooks on the far wall.
“It’s like art class,” one of them giggled, “there are no chairs!”
Andy nodded, “More fun standing up.” He looked back to the adults, “Looks like they know the drill. We have aprons on the rack behind you. Now, I reckon you will want to keep a close eye on your little ‘un, keep ‘em from making a mess and whatnot. We can’t have that, though. Bigger mess, better taste. We got small cakes, enough for each of you and then some. I wanna see everyone doing a cake.” He turned to make sure everyone was listening, “Alright, wiggle-worms. This is more like art class than instructions class. I’m going to show you how to use a few things but you can experiment with your decorations.”
“Do we get to keep them?” a little boy asked.
“Do you want to?” Andy asked.
Every one of them shrieked a yes.
“Everyone choose your table and we’ll choose our cakes,” Andy said.
Harry watched Teddy run toward one of the child-sized tables with Haley and a boy Harry didn’t recognize. It was then that Harry realized most of their previous field trips did not let the children move about on their own. Harry often worried about Teddy, wondered if Teddy made friends in school. He smiled watching them giggle and talk to each other.
“Wild, isn’t it?” Liz said next to him.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, not taking his eyes off Teddy.
“We see them as our babies for so long. Then one day,” Liz gestured toward the kids, “they’re little people, having conversations and making friends you’ve never met. Picking up words and phrases you never say at home. Deciding one day that they just don’t like bananas anymore.”
“That’s,” Harry hesitated, “terrifying?”
Liz laughed. “Right?”
Harry couldn’t help but smile. Liz was growing on him.
“Well, I’m going to share a table with Leona. Want me to save you a spot?” she asked.
“Four may be too much of a crowd,” Draco said. “We’ll catch up with you before we leave.”
“Okay, have fun.”
Draco handed Harry an apron. They chose a table and waited while the children got their cakes first. Teddy placed a pink cake on his table before running over to theirs.
“I picked a strawberry one. I’m going to share it with Nanny Andie. Strawberry is our favorite,” Teddy said.
“Good idea,” Draco said. “Are you going to make it pretty?”
Teddy nodded. “You should share your cake, too.”
“Another good idea,” Draco said.
“You can do one for Uncle Harry and Uncle Harry can do a cake for you,” Teddy said.
“I don’t know if-” Draco started.
“You’re supposed to share!” Teddy shouted.
“Yes, you are. I’ll decorate one for Draco,” Harry said. “Now go back to your table so you don’t lose any time.”
“Nooo,” Teddy said, “tiiime.” He ran back over to his table and looked toward Andy at the front of the room.
Harry, trying to ignore Draco’s reaction, looked around the room. They looked to be the last two to choose cakes from the trolley. Harry didn’t take the time to look the choices over. If he told Teddy he’d give his cake to Draco, he knew he needed chocolate.
Over the next hour, Andy showed the kids how to use a piping bag, encouraged the children to taste ingredients to ensure the flavors matched, and generally encouraged the curiosity and questions. By the time they actually started putting decorations on cake, Harry was amazed that the children were taking this so seriously. Even though the tables were piled with different colored sugars, fruits, chocolates, candies, and icings, they paid close attention to Andy and watched as he used the ingredients to decorate a large cake as he spoke.
Harry was paying more attention to Teddy than anything else. Teddy was attaching strawberries to the top of his cake with a piping bag full of blue icing when the bag made a poot noise. All three of the kids laughed like this was the height of humor.
“I love his laugh,” Draco said.
Harry nodded, “He still has baby giggles. It’s going to break my heart when he outgrows it.” Objectively, he knew Draco was part of Teddy’s life, but he never thought about what that meant. Harry wasn’t the only one to spend time with Teddy. Harry couldn’t be the only one to care about Teddy. Somehow, knowing that Draco loved Teddy’s laugh made Harry feel differently about him even if he couldn’t put that feeling into words.
Harry looked over to Draco just in time to see him snatch one of the chocolate candies from the bowl Harry had been using. He pushed the bowl to the middle of the table.
Draco held a hand up between them, likely not wanting to talk with his mouth full. A few seconds later, Draco shook his head. “I don’t need them.”
“So you’re just going to eat them?”
Draco scoffed, “I’m tasting. He said we should taste them.”
Harry looked down at the bowl, He knew immediately that there was no way that all the candies missing from the bowl made it onto the cake in front of him. “So, did the fourth one taste different than the first?”
Draco smiled and shrugged.
He was going to let it go, but decided against it. Draco won that round. Harry asked, “Did it really?”
“What?”
“Did it taste different? They don’t have different middles do they?”
“First you judge me; now you need my wisdom?” Draco teased.
“Whatever. Makes me no difference. I’m not the one who’ll be eating this,” Harry said.
Draco looked over at Harry’s cake. “We’re really trading cakes then?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You did not make that for you,” Harry said, pointing to Draco’s toffee-topped cake. “You hate toffee.”
“How would you know that?” Draco asked.
Harry could tell the truth and say that years of watching him at Hogwarts gave away Draco’s preferences. Instead, he turned all his attention to Andy’s announcement.
“We have two cameras coming around. One for your bulletin board and one for our website,” Andy said from his table up front. “If you don’t want your pictures on our website, raise your hand. Ok, now. Grown-ups, find your little ‘uns. We’ll get the pictures and then we’ll box up your goodies.”
Cakes were boxed, aprons and smocks put away, and children handed off their cakes to their adults. With everyone back down in the cafe, Harry watched as Teddy and the others lined up and made their way back to their school bus. Once they were out the door, Harry made his way back to have a seat next to Draco.
“Here,” he said, unceremoniously holding the cake out for Draco.
Draco took the box without saying a word and slid his own across the table to Harry. Harry looked down through the clear plastic top of the box. He didn’t know what kind of cake it was, but Draco did a pretty nice job. The sides were covered in toffee and hazelnuts and the top had some sort of icing drawn into the shape of…
“You drew a heart on it?” Harry asked, smiling up at Draco.
Draco didn’t look up at Harry. That didn’t help hide the fact he was blushing. He reached over to the cake and turned it around. “It’s a leaf.”
Before Harry could tease him, Liz stopped by their table. “Oh, how cute. Haley drew a heart on her’s, too.”
Harry laughed.
“I was hoping to have a minute more to visit with you both, but I need to be going. And,” she she hesitated, “Meredith recommended against it; she says I have a tendency to be a bit extra when I meet new people, but I’d like to invite you both to have tea with Meredith and myself. Just, whenever. Here’s my card. My personal number is on the back. No pressure though.”
Draco took the card and smiled. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Liz looked relieved, “Good, yes. You’re welcome. See you later.” She gave them a quick wave and left the shop.
Harry took a steadying breath before turning back to Draco. “Looks like she just asked us out on our first date.”
“Maybe so,” Draco said.
Harry looked around the cafe. He and Draco were the last ones from their group sitting in the cafe section. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. “She still thinks we’re together?”
“Maybe so,” he repeated.
“What are you going to tell her?”
“Why does she think we’re a couple,” Draco asked. “I seem to remember that you were the one that gave her that impression.”
“I didn’t say anything to make her think that. She just jumped on an idea and ran with it. Correcting her seemed like it would be more awkward than letting it go,” Harry said. “I didn’t realize it would turn into a thing. Or that you’re about to have to turn down a tea date.”
“I’m not turning it down,” Draco said.
“You took her number,” Harry said. “I’m not the one that let her assume we’d go.”
“So you don’t want to?”
“I’m not a fan of third party involvement in my first dates regardless of who I’m dating.”
Draco got up from the table, gathering his cake and coat, “She didn’t say when. That gives you time to ask me out on our first date with no third party involvement. Either way, I’d like to have tea with Liz and Meredith.” Without waiting for a response, Draco gave Harry one last smile before leaving the shop.
Harry would have been less surprised by a herd of unicorns running down the sidewalk. When he stepped out of the bakery, he couldn’t help but smile. He made his way to the apparation point thinking that maybe he would like to ask Draco out for a drink. Just as he thought he could force the giddy smile from his face, he glanced down to the “leaf” drawn on the cake in his hands.
thank you for supporting this story: @ilovepuppysizedelephants @satans-substitute @laurasinele @inabachiiir @unicornsandphoenix @samandstuffworld @hufflepuffhorcrux317 @sweetlialia @rose-grangerweasleyisbae @i-dontlike-i-obsess @abstractedevening @oceanaged @gods-i-am-weird @secretlycrazyhummingbird @rmh8402 @alfaselene @destielis4ever
#teddy mini series#decorating cakes and weird date plans#jeni wrote this#drarry#drarry with teddy#drarry fic#so...this is the last drarry with teddy request in my inbox#but there is one more i could put into this series#thank you to everyone who liked reblogged and commented
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Since Pop seems to teleport into Danis apartment whenever he wants has he ever teleported in at an awkward time?? Like she forgot her towel and walked out at the same time that Pop teleported in? Bc that would be funny af 😂😂
Nina Simones voice flowed in Danielle's living room as she stood at her canvas, feeling the breeze from her open windows on her skin while feeling the sun warm her skin at the same time. She was once again painting Pop, and enjoying doing so. She picked up her pallet and was suddenly filled with the need to paint on herself again, and did so, putting a swirl of blue paint on her bare chest, smiling as she felt the satisfying texture of the blue paint and the soft bristles of her paintbrush on her bare skin.
The woman finally was able to sneak some time to herself and paint alone in her home completely naked, as she preferred to be. She hated clothes, the feeling of them brushing against her skin made her uncomfortable and overwhelmed and she enjoyed being able to move freely. She smiled as the song changed to one by Janelle Monáe, and she made a sound of delight as "Make Me Feel" came on. In her opinion it was the bisexual anthem to end all bisexual anthems and she had mad respect for Janelle, not only that but she found the woman’s voice to be one of the most soothing things on this earth.
She took a moment to pause from her painting, setting her paintbrush down and scooping up a bit of white paint with her finger and smearing it down her arm, letting out another sound, this time a noise resembling chirping, as the feeling of the cold, smooth paint filled her with happiness. She then picked her paintbrush and pallet back up, resuming meticulously painting her loves eyes as she danced a bit to the song, moving her body to the melody while somehow keeping her hands steady.
So focused was she on her painting that she didn't notice the cloud of blue-violet smoke that appeared behind her, nor did she seem to sense the jester that stepped out of it. He was originally planning to startle her, but he ended up pausing, mouth open as he saw the scene before him. He was debating whether he should disappear and come back later or make some noise to let her know of his presence. In the end, he just stood there watching as she painted him...and clearly herself as well.
He noted the paint smeared across her bare body and how the patterns showed it must have been put there intentionally. He leaned back against the wall behind him in a sitting position with one leg resting on top of the other, and the shuffling noise he made in the process seemed to finally draw her attention.
The small woman turned when she heard shuffling over her music , and let out a noise of surprise and confusion when she saw Pop leaning against the wall and instantly tossed a rag at his face, and too startled to sign spoke verbally to the man as her cheeks turned bright red.
"POP! THERE'S A REASON WHY US HUMANS HAVE DOORS!" She lifted the canvas off of the easel, using it to block most of her body from his view. Usually someone seeing her nude wouldn't phase her, but this was Pop, this was someone that she would care about if he didn't like her body. What if he didn't like what he saw? What if he decided that he didn't want her anymore because of her body? She shook that aside, instead choosing to focus on something else. "How long were you watching me? Jesus, Pop, you do know that's kinda creepy right?"
He stood back to his full height as he removed the paint-ridden cloth from his face, a sheepish grin on his features along with his blush.
"Well, what is it the young ones call us again? Creepypasta? I think I'm supposed to be a bit creepy at least every once in a while." he shrugged as he tried to pour humor into the tense situation. "And why use doors when it's so much easier to teleport? And more fun..." he trailed off as he looked at her.
He didn't understand why humans were so touchy when it came to nudity. It's just a body, after all. Everybody has one. He was somewhat amused by her reaction - he hadn't expected her to have that typical human reaction. But, he knew commenting on it would probably get him another object to the face, so he instead turned to something else that had caught his curiosity.
"You seem to paint yourself more than you paint the canvas," he remarked with a grin. She blushed harder,
"I like the way the paint feels on my skin. It's nice." She moved the canvas out of the way, setting it back on her easel before pointing to her stomach where she had painted a yellow rose, and smiled. "I like turning myself into art." All of the little smears and dots she had put on her body all collected into something else, whether it be an eye or a flower or something else. Not only was she getting the sensory satisfaction of it, she was also making art and the way that it washed off in the shower was equally satisfying to her.
"Hmmm..." Pop tapped his chin in thought for a second, then his face lit up: he had an idea. And that was a scary thing. "I challenge you!" he pointed at her. At her confused glance, he elaborated further. "I challenge you to a paint fight! The goal is to paint a clear image on your opponent before they paint one on you. We each get a weapon," he said as he picked up a paintbrush, "And there's plenty of ammo all around us." he gestured to the many bottles of paint around the living room.
He snapped his fingers, and after another puff of blueish smoke cleared from around him he was as nude as she was. He couldn't think of a better way to make her less embarrassed than to make the situation fun...and what was more fun than a paint war?
"Do you accept this challenge?!" he smiled widely as he brandished the brush he'd picked up earlier in one hand with a bottle of green paint in the other.She raised her eyebrows before she laughed, chirps of happiness coming out in between her laughter before picking up a brush of her own.
"That depends! Are you prepared to lose?" She then launched herself at the man, dead set on winning this paint war.Pop expertly dodged her and painted a streak of green across her lower back as she passed.
"There's the grass for my piece. I'm already a fourth of the way done. I think I'm going to win this one in the end." he smirked.She giggled, a wide grin on her face as she fake launched herself at him, and when he dodged again she twisted her body so that she could paint a blue circle on his chest, and she then danced out of the way when he went to go paint another stroke on her and her laugh got louder as she continued to dodge and snake her way closer again to paint another circle.
"You wish! I'm already a third of the way done, baby. I never lose."
"There's a first time for everything~!" Pop sang with a smile as he managed to paint the stem and leaf of a flower on her back with a bit of hassle. They continued at this for another half hour, and eventually Pop was just missing one petal to complete the flower he was painting on her back. They stood across from one another, each one warily eyeing the other's movements.
Dani eyed him, she only needed one more circle to complete her picture, and she was dead set on winning. She dropped her paintbrush, looking up at Pop with a sultry grin and saw as he froze, looking down at the tiny woman. She took a step closer, a hum starting in her throat.
"Pop?"
"Yes?" he asked as he kept on guard. Now just what was she planning?She took another step closer, and then another, letting her hips sway. She was nearly chest to chest with the jester, and bit her lip slightly, leaning up on her tiptoes, and she lifted her hand up, putting one of them on his shoulder and she watched him turn pink and the hum in her throat deepened as she spoke.
"Guess what?"He could see where this was headed, and quickly spun out of her grip, placing his paintbrush to her back. He painted the last petal he needed, and the flower was complete.
"I guess you lost for the first time." he grinned. "You can't fool me that easily, dear. I wasn't created yesterday."She let out a loud maniacal laugh,
"Oh baby, I told you, I never lose." She pointed at his shoulder, which had a circle the shape of her palm, successfully making a dick that spanned from his chest to his shoulder. She pranced around the apartment, chirping and singing, "I wiiiiin~" She then began dancing to Janelle Monáe's voice in victory, a smile on her face and paint all over her body.He looked down at his chest for the first time since they started, a confused look on his face.
"What is with humans and this obsession for painting male anatomy everywhere?" he questioned as he sighed and shook his head. "Ah, well. I suppose you win this round, love. But this is just the first battle of the war...there will be many more to come." he smirked. Then there was a puff of bright blue smoke, and there was Cane.
"What...in blue blazes...happened here?" she demanded with a frown.
"Ummm...paint fight?" Pop grinned as he used his brush to paint a streak of orange from Dani's forhead to the tip of her nose. Cane sighed and facepalmed.
"Get cleaned up, Pop. We have a target to dispose of." With that, she disappeared, and Pop laughed hysterically.Danielle swatted at him, picking up a paintbrush and flicking it, sending green paint splattering across his chest.
"Don't disrespect my beautiful art!" She jumped back before he could use the paintbrush to paint her again, and said in a sing-song voice, "You heard your sister, go get cleaned up~"
"Oh, but what about your beautiful artwork? Why can't I just show up like this to take out our target? Besides the part about Cane killing me for it..." he mumbled the last bit to himself.She giggled,
"If Cane kills you then we can't have anymore paint wars. I'll just paint another dick on you when I win next time." With that she smiled cheekily, heading to the shower to wash herself off and see all the colors flow down the drain in a sensory heaven.
He watched her leave, then smiled and shook his head as he snapped his fingers. The mess from the paint around Dani's apartment cleared itself up, and the only evidence left of their little War was the images they had on their skin. Pop disappeared, back to the Circus to clean up before his sister could reappear and scold him. He was going to win the next war, he decided. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
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Nightmare Before Christmas
Shout out to @petalstofish for BETAing and explaining Tumblr and @beks21 for telling me it didn’t totally suck.
Prompt for Jily October: It’s Halloween at Hogwarts but Lily’s already humming Christmas music on rounds and James wants to kill her.
also on FFN
It is a fact universally acknowledged that come October, people can be divided into two factions.
Those who live for leaf piles, pumpkin patches and Halloween.
And those who turn the calendar to October 1 and begin the 84 day countdown to Christmas.
Now, James Potter always paid particular attention to Lily Evans. Somehow though, October had always been an exception to this rule. Because James Potter lived for the bliss of cooler weather, the beginning of quidditch and planning the annual Halloween prank. In the month of October, James had other things on his mind thankyouverymuch and couldn’t be bothered to know what kind of October person Lily Evans was.
He knew, of course that her eyes sparked the most in the winter. She practically glowed in January, especially on her birthday week. He knew she was melancholy in March, whimsical in April and that she would take any dare she was given and make you regret it in July.
Through no fault of his own, James had missed the inaugural pronouncement of “84 Days until Christmas” on October 1st in their first year due to an unfortunate accident with the giant squid; missed the distribution of “pre pre Christmas cookie taste test” on October 11th their second year (detention); the Christmas tree catastrophe of their third year (quidditch); the Christmas knitting party in fourth year (quidditch); the mistletoe mishap of fifth year (holding a leaf in your mouth for a month sucks); and he was unaware of the failed 84 day advent calendar of sixth year (the giant squid really needed to give a man a break).
So when James picked Lily up for rounds he was taken aback when he heard her singing “Good King Wenceslas” in their office.
“Lily… are you ready? It’s time for rounds!”
As she flung the door open James swore he smelled pine, gingerbread and plum.
She responded with too much enthusiasm for a Tuesday, “Oh yes sorry! Lost track of time. Tis the season, you know?”
“Right. Well shall we take the usual route?”
“Of course!” She said with a overly cheery laugh and off they went.
Rounds were the usual banter and discussion of quidditch, classes and gossip. Near the end of the second hour however, Lily began to hum. Now, Lily always started humming when they’d run out of typical conversation and normally James enjoyed it. She’d introduced him to at least five new bands in the few months they’d been dating. But tonight, tonight surprised him. He swore he must be having some sort of auditory hallucination. At first it was “Good King Wenceslas” which he figured could be a tune that had a variety of lyrics. By the time they got to astronomy tower though, James was positive Lily was humming “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.”
He racked his brain on how to approach this. They’d entered a tentative friendship at the beginning of sixth year and had fallen easily into something more than friends over the summer (a man can only stand being bested in Muggle poker for so long before he has to make a move). They hadn’t had a fight since they started dating and he didn’t want to start now.
“Hey Lils…what’s today?”
The humming stopped. “October 3rd- only..”
“28 days until Halloween I know”
“Right! I forgot! I was going to say only…”
But they were interrupted as was typical of rounds by an excited couple and the conversation was cut short. After losing rock-paper-scissors (14/25) James had to fill the appropriate paperwork, owl the heads of house and create the rounds schedule for the next two weeks.
He was halfway to the kitchens for a pick me up when he decided he needed to seek the advice of one Remus John Lupin.
The dorm was a mess as usual and he was unsurprised to find Remus studying, Sirius braiding his hair and Peter trying to beat himself in Wizard Chess.
“Ah ha!” Exclaimed Sirius “The prodigal Prongs returns”
“Did we have a meeting planned?” squeaked Peter as his knight destroyed his other knight.
“No, no. I just finished rounds.”
“And how were rounds?”
“Interesting”
Sirius twisted his expression, “Interesting, what did you and Evans catch Filch and McGonagall in the astronomy tower or something and felt the need to tell us all the gory details?”
“No! God No…I just….” He can’t quite define why he is so bothered by the events that transpired so he starts, “Well rounds were great as usual… but then Lily starting humming”
“alas-“ exclaimed Sirius “not the humming! Not the waxing poetic ‘Pads I swear it feels like home’ humming!”
“How shall you survive the humming?” Peter agreed dramatically, following Sirius’ playful jest.
“I never thought humming could be beautiful until rounds with Lily Evans.” Sirius mimicked James’ voice and James frown deepened.
Peter clasped his hands like he was praying and said through snorts of laughter, “And I just keep thinking I could hear that humming to our child as she puts them to sleep.”
“Oi! I never said the bit about rocking a kid to sleep”
“Yes you did” was the chorused reply
“Right, well normally I enjoy her humming. But tonight she bloody well went through every Christmas tune known to man.”
The response was not what James had expected. He had expected protesting, outrage at the blasphemy and Sirius dramatically storming toward the head suite to have one of his “chats with Evans”.
He did not expect Remus to simply pick his book back up, Peter to laugh and Sirius to say “Right. Well- you know how Evans gets”
“No I do not know “how she gets”. It’s October 3rd. We are nowhere near the reasonable time to begin singing Christmas songs”
Remus shrugged, “I’m with you mate, but for Lily that timeline is different. I mean the girl begins knitting Christmas jumpers in July”
“I think the worst was in third year when she tried to teach me how to knit”
“Honestly Wormtail it isn’t that hard to cast off. Evans did turn your monstrosity into a lovely scarf”
“I do love that scarf” Peter said wistfully.
“Personally I think her worst attempt was last years advent calendar” Remus added, unhelpfully.
Just as the conversation was about to spin totally out of control James countered “What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. You. Lot. On. About. I know everything about Lily Evans. I would know- I would have to know if she was a - a- “
He couldn’t finish his sentence so Sirius finished it for him, “Pumpkin abusing, Halloween skipping, heinous pre Christmasophile?”
“YES! How could I miss such a glaring flaw?”
“Lilytober” they chorused again
“Stop speaking all at once!”
“Remus you tell him” Peter motioned pathetically to James.
Calmly, Remus set down his book and started “Lilytober is the great and time honored tradition where one James Potter does not mention Lily Evans for 31 days because he is manically preparing for quidditch, the annual pumpkin carving contest and the Halloween prank. In his absence, Lily Evans pushes her pre Christmas agenda on all of us but we do not mention it because it’s a fair trade to have 31 days of rant free bliss”
“We, of course, knew that this year would be different since you finally got Lily to agree to go out with you” Sirius said, “Lilytober- may it live in our hearts forever and ever”
Ignoring this James said “So, you mean to tell me….everyone…..everyone in Gryffindor tower knows that Lily Evans is an absolute Christmas nutter who ignores the sacred month of October and all that autumn holds except me?”
“All of Hogwarts knows Prongs”, Peter added unhelpfully.
James pressed his fingers to his temples, “I need a drink. Or 5. Or to reevaluate the kind of woman I fall for.”
How there always seemed to be a stockpile of Firewhiskey in the dorm, James would never know but he was appreciative of Sirius and his ability to keep a constant and much needed supply.
On the 5th shot James had an epiphany , “I’ll just convert her!”
On shot number 6 Sirius responded “Convert her to what? You’re talking crazy mate”
“No, no, listen. I converted Lily from borderline hating me to being my girlfriend. Making her see that October is for spooky things and not Christmas should be easy. I just have to show her all that October can offer. Pumpkin carving, setting off explosives, scaring first years. Come October 31st we will never remember Lily unnecessarily singing ‘Good King Wenceslas’ on October Third Again”
“Good luck with that mate” Sirius said into shot number 7.
The next morning dawned bright and early and although they had planned a lie in to deal with their hangovers they were awoken by the smell of coffee and someone singing
“Good Christian men rejoice
With heart and soul and voice!
Give ye heed to what we say
News! News!
Jesus Christ is born today!
Ox and ass before Him bow
And He is in the manger now
Christ is born today!
Christ is born today!”
Amidst the groans and complaints of “Fuck, Evans, it’s only Wednesday” James heard the love of his life respond “Wake up gents, I’ve got coffee and hangover potion and Minnie is already looking for you Sirius so you better get up and at them” before she kissed him on the head told him “see you in potions” and whisked out the door.
“How does Lily always know when we’ve been drinking?” Peter asked, pulling pumpkin pasty from nowhere and taking a large bite
“James never tells her goodnight on our drinking nights so she always prepares a ‘Hangover Cart’” replied Remus grabbing the sole cup of tea.
Sirius’ grey eyes looked at the hangover cure lovingly, “Moony, if I ever leave you for someone it will be that mad Christmas bird. We’d be dead without her”
James chucked his sock at Sirius playfully, “Oi! That’s my mad Christmas bird”
After a day of too many loud noises, bright lights and general discomfort, James decided that Operation Spooky Lily could wait until the weekend. He had much too much homework, his quidditch team was looking like rubbish and they didn’t even have a draft of the big Halloween prank. So it was on the way to Hogsmeade on October 7th that operation October went into effect.
As they walked down the path to the village James took Lily on a detour to Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.
“I thought we could skip Hogsmeade today and celebrate the beginning of October properly, by carving pumpkins and roasting seeds” James told her as he pulled her from the usual path.
“But James, I wanted to go to Madame Puddifoots and snuggle- we haven’t been to Hogsmeade since we became official” Lily whined, but with a twinkle in her eyes that made him retaliate with a slight pinch on her side.
“I don’t know why I started dating someone as sarcastic as my best mate.”
“Because your best mate was already dating your other best mate and Peter is just there as a cute accessory?” Lily guessed.
“I’ll have you know Peter brings a lot to our group dynamic.”
Lily just rolled her eyes, let go of his hand yelling “race you” before running to the pumpkin patch.
James Potter learned that afternoon that Lily Evans had never carved a pumpkin or eaten pumpkin seeds. After recovering from this shock, he promptly showed her “the proper way” to cut and gut her pumpkin (he was glad Sirius wasn’t around or there would’ve been a 4 hour debate). After two hours of carving, throwing slime on each other and catching roasted pumpkin seeds; they revealed their masterpieces to each other.
James had carved an elaborate black cat wearing a witches hat that looked suspiciously like McGonagall. Lily had carved a shape that looked suspiciously like Santa Clause.
“Lil- is that”
“Santa? You know him? I wasn’t sure if it was just a Muggle thing or-why are you looking at me like that? I know his beard is a little off but I think the hat is clear enough”
She looked so pleased with herself and worried about his approval, the rant bubbling up from his core died on his lips.
“It looks brilliant. Now let’s go drop them on some Slytherin’s heads”
After thoroughly checking off “pumpkin carving prank” on the Operation October checklist, James knocked out “haunted house” , “leaf piles”, “dying Mrs. Norris black” and “charming all the cauldrons into jack o lanterns” with Lily at his side in no less than two weeks.
Things were going so splendidly James often forgot there was an operation unless one of the boys asked. It was October, he was pretty sure he was in love and his Quidditch team had never looked better. Nothing could take James Potter down.
That was of course until the morning of October 21, the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin match when his beautiful girlfriend came to breakfast, not in the agreed upon James Potter quidditch jumper she had worn to matches since February 6th year after an unfortunate accident at breakfast but a blinking twinkling jumper that had a red nosed deer embellished on it.
Taking a deep breath, counting to ten and trying to not curse James prompted “Lily, dearest…what are you wearing?”
“My October 21 jumper. It’s Rudolph the red nosed reindeer’s birthday and I wear it every year”
“Lily” James said through gritted teeth, “It’s a Quidditch day”
“You’ll survive one game without me wearing your ‘lucky jumper’”
“Rudolph will survive one year without you wearing a bloody Christmas jumper in October!!!”
Lily drew back, “James Potter I do not like your tone.”
This, for some reason was the last straw, “Look- if you’re not going to wear my jumper and insist upon wearing that blasphemy in October then don’t even come to the match, alright?”
“Fine” Lily said coolly, “but don’t expect me to show up to the post match party either”
And then she left. James watched her go.
Miraculously and despite his girlfriend’s absence and refusal to wear the proper attire- Gryffindor won. James was so thrilled (and trashed) he had completely forgotten why and what they had fought about until he asked Marlene “where’s Lily?” and Marlene started shouting about reindeer and birthdays and “if you can’t love October Lily you don’t deserve Summer Lily” and shouting until his head hurt.
His only response was “It’s bloody October and no reasonable person should even look at a Christmas jumper until November 1 and you can tell her that.”
The party died down soon after and James did not emerge from his room the next day. He was doing what any reasonable bloke in a fight with his girlfriend would do, hide and avoid.
This was going remarkably well. He only ate in the kitchens, arrived to all classes at the last possible second and left as soon as the bell rang. He even switched with Remus to do
Wednesday night rounds so he wouldn’t have to be alone with Lily that Friday. He was sure he could successfully avoid her until graduation even instead of Benji Fenwick waiting for him in the great hall, there in a hideous Christmas jumper stood one Lily Evans.
“I thought Remus had rounds” she said in her Best Head Girl voice.
“He did. We switched”
“If I was going to be stuck with one of your lot for rounds I wanted Remus”
“Your lot again, is it?”
“Let’s just do rounds I’m too tired to do this now.”
“Nice jumper.”
“Thanks. It’s my ‘two months till Christmas’ jumper”
Rounds had never been so awkward. Their interactions had never been so awkward. Total silence. So when Lily started humming James was almost relieved. That is until he realized what it was.
“Can you stop humming please?”
She did. Two minutes later however she started singing “Oh the weather outside is frightful”
“Lily”
“But the fire is so delightful”
“Evans”
“And since we’ve no place to go”
“Please.” he asked weakly.
“LET IT SNOW. LET IT SNOW. LET IT SNOW!”
“WOULD YOU BLOODY STOP. I don’t understand how the girl I’m dating could possibly sing that song on October 25.”
Lily crossed her arms and smirked, “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud to all to hear!”
“ITS OCTOBER.”
“it’s only -“
“I don’t care how many days it is till Christmas. I don’t care about your ruddy jumpers. I just care that Halloween is in a week and for no discernible reason you have decided that my favorite holiday should be besmirched with Santa and Rudolph!”
Lily tossed her red hair over one shoulder, “I just love Christmas. Christmas is my favorite”
“Christmas has enough! It has a whole church season! Halloween doesn’t have anything.”
Lily scoffed, “IT’S THE BIRTHDAY OF JESUS!”
Taking a step back, James said “maybe we should just- take a break until November”
“No,” Lily stated, “if we can’t even resolve this fight we should just end it. It was good while it lasted but maybe this is a sign.”
For the second time in less than a week, Lily left and James let her.
The next 7 days were transformative. It felt like 5th year again. Lily and James existing in separate bubbles. She was as good (if not better) than James at avoidance a fact he was more aware of because Sirius kept complaining of “that red-headed banshee trying to get out of our much needed ‘Chat with Evans’”
On Halloween morning, James couldn’t even be encouraged by their impending Best Prank Ever when the final nail in his coffin was delivered by Lily Evans flirting with Some Ravenclaw Bloke. Lily Evans who was a vision in some Christmas jumper that he was sure she called “her Halloween Christmas jumper”. Some Ravenclaw Bloke has just made her laugh and she was leaning over his shoulder to look at something. James realized he hadn’t looked at her in over a week and he had forgotten how lovely she was.
“That is it!” Sirius exclaimed.
Sirius threw down his bacon and stalked over to Lily, told Some Ravenclaw Bloke to “get bent” and dragged the redhead from the dining hall to what James was sure would be the most terrible “Chat with Evans” of all time.
As he started to imagine the lecture Lily was sure to get regarding Some Ravenclaw Bloke his thoughts were interrupted by Remus
“You know I hate to meddle Prongs but maybe you need to rethink this whole argument”
“It’s October Remus”
“I know but maybe this is Lily’s Thing.”
“Thing?”
“The Thing you have to accept and then maybe try and understand. Lily didn’t get quidditch and was against it until she became our friend. She doesn’t like that you broke the law to help with my furry little problem but she respects it. You’ve got Things that she accepts about you.”
“She never told me she had a problem with any of that.”
Remus stared at James pointedly, “Because she loves you, you idiot, and didn’t want you to feel guiltier than you do.”
James swallowed deeply, “I’ve fucked up.”
Returning to his crossword, Remus said “I’d dare say you have.”
“What do I do Remus?”
“A grand dramatic gesture should do the trick.”
“But when?”
“The post feast party tonight. I’d say the actual feast but Lily is taking Samuel’s shift for rounds.”
“Who the bloody hell is Samuel?”
“The Ravenclaw she was talking to- he’s a prefect and wants to enjoy the feast with his boyfriend. Honestly, I thought you were head boy?”
After the realization that Some Ravenclaw Bloke was alright, James and Remus started plotting. Peter joined them after divination and at their lunch break in the kitchens Sirius arrived looking grim but smug.
“How was the ‘Chat with Evans’” Remus asked
“Bird is bloody stubborn. I also told Some Ravenclaw Bloke to leave my mates girl alone”
“who?” Asked Peter the same time James said “she’s not my girl”
“Samuel” Remus responded and there was a firm “Yes she is” from Sirius
“She won’t be if we don’t get the fuck to work” mumbled James.
The feast was excellent, the Best Prank Ever went off without a hitch and got a standing ovation from all the houses and professors. The fireworks were successful and didn’t catch anyone on fire. In the Gryffindor Common Room the Halloween Costume Party was in full swing. The Grand Romantic Gesture was all set up but the lady to woo was nowhere to be found. James felt absolutely ridiculous in his costume but Remus assured him it was the right choice. He was ready to abandon all hope when he heard a “trick or treat” from behind him.
He turned around to see the sexiest pumpkin of all time. Lily was wearing green tights and a ridiculous pumpkin costume. She was perfect and all James could say was “Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas” through his pull on beard. With these words all the floating pumpkins began to sing
“We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy Halloween!”
“I’m sorry” they said together
then, “I love you”
Lily said with a laugh, “Happy Halloween, Potter”
“Happy Christmas, Lily”
And then they kissed.
Once James took off the beard.
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Ink Demon’s Game
- CHAPTER THREE SPOILERS -
Your father, against his better judgement, decided to go meet with Joey after so many years apart. Now he’s missing and many people are reluctant to do anything about it. So you brave the old studio and find evidence of your father being there, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You must travel deeper into the studio, braving the errands of Angel, meet Boris and escape from the grasp of Bendy…
All while trying to find your father.
Good luck. You’ll be needing it.
Just remember - this is where all your dreams come true
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You couldn’t help but take a deep sigh of relief as you stepped into the lift for what would be the last time, smiling at Boris.
Angel had you running all over her area of the studio, being her little errand girl for the day, as her last errand boy had mysteriously disappeared. Part of you thought it was just a rouse as her list of to-do’s seemed scattered, random almost. But you had never seen an angel, let alone an angel made of ink, so it was possible that she needed the ink for herself, to keep her decaying body in one piece. The gears and power charges were confusing to you, why would a creature such as her want with them? And those hearts… your hands itched thinking about the feel of them in your hands. The slime and the texture. Perhaps it was your imagination but one had faintly pulsed in your hand when you had picked it up. No, you were glad that that was over with. When you finally got out of here you were going to take the longest, hottest shower you could stand, scrubbing the ink from your pores till not a stain remained. To do that, you needed to get out of this damned place first. As Angel pondered about heaven and how she had always imagined it, you let your mind wander.
Her last errand boy… Angel had mentioned an errand boy before you… one that hadn’t returned to her chambers.
It was no accident that you were in the old, deserted studio. You had come here looking for your father, Henry. He had worked here, once upon a time, about thirty years ago he had said. Before Joey had completely taken it over he had been one of the head animators, in charge of drawing out repetitive drawings for their cartoon, Bendy the Dancing Demon. Thirty years ago, Henry and Joey had a disagreement and Henry had turned his back on the staff and crew, vowing never to set foot in there again. And he hadn’t. He had gotten a new job, married, and then had you. A few days ago Joey had sent him a frantic message, telling him that he needed to show him something and he had left, promising you and your mother that he would be home in time for supper.
Supper had come and gone, and there was no sign of your father.
You had urged your mom to call the cops but she had refused. She had wondered if he and Joey had gotten distracted, catching up over dinner and drinks, and then your father had neglected to call home and let everyone else know of his change in plans. That excuse didn’t excuse the second day, nor did it explain the third…
You had tried calling the police yourself and they had promised to check it out. When they got around to it. Curse this town and it’s small crew of officers. Oversight on the council’s part to cut funding for the officers. ‘Nothing happens here, do we need a full taskforce?’ one had dared ask.
These thoughts were interrupted when the elevator stopped and shuddered. That’s when you heard Angel’s maniacal laughter. You knew that she was unhinged, slightly deranged but that crazy? She was a cartoon character, you chided yourself, anything was possible with them.
Boris looked at you, the pupils of his eyes possibly round with fear, you couldn’t quite tell with him.
The lift dropped like a stone. Boris covered his head, shaking like a leaf. You left to grip to the sides of elevator, praying that the cable would catch, that you would be safe, that you would survive this fall.
But with old style elevators, they just don’t have the same safety mechanisms as modern day ones.
As Angel screamed about taking Boris, you somehow moved closer to him. You wouldn’t allow that monster to take him. Boris had shown you nothing but kindness. He had walked you through the twists and turns of the tunnels, opened the locked doors, and had even shown you the safe rooms. No, he would be protected. Boris would not meet the same fate as those other Borises in her little experimentation and torture room.
Before you could promise Boris anything, the elevator finally crashed. The momentum causing you to hit your head on the metal bars, before falling to the ground. The last vision you saw before the world turned dark was one of your father, smiling down at you.
When you finally came to, Boris was shaking you gently, trying to wake you. Your head throbbed, and your vision swam. Why was it so hard to concentrate? Where were you?
Boris still shook you gently, mutely pleading for you to wake, get up, and continue your journey. That’s when the shadow started to approach the two of you, slowly, stealthy, as if they didn’t want to be seen or heard.
Angel.
You tried to say something, but your traitorous body was too weak to do anything. Your mouth gaped like a fish, no words escaping, and your eyes still swam with darkness and stars.
When you were next aware, Boris was reaching out to you, almost pleadingly, as Angel jerked him back. Down to her cave of horrors… of death.
You tried to rise again but, instead you succumbed to the darkness, completely helpless.
Many hours passed before your eyes opened again. Your body was completely battered and bruised, your clothes coated in ink. Your skull throbbed in tune with your heartbeat and your back was stiff.
Where… where was Boris? He had been in front of you, shaking you. Or was he in the elevator? Waiting for you to finish your errands and return to him?
Piece by piece your memories and anger slowly returned. Angel, heh someone had a cruel sense of humour in naming her that… you remembered seeing the evil angel behind him now, jerking him off his feet and away from you.
No time for rest. Both Boris and your father needed you.
As quick as you could you pulled yourself to your feet, forcing yourself up and preparing to move. You swayed, your injuries still very much affecting you and your sense of balance, causing you to grip the wall and handrail in the search for relief. You pushed onward. Eventually your body became used to the pain and the abuse, and you were able to ignore the stars and impending darkness in your peripheral vision.
In all her glory, Angel had not considered her ‘heavenly’ footprints on the hardwood floor, nor had she thought of the long smears caused by Boris, probably where he had struggled to get free. A perfect trail, waiting for you to follow.
A sense of justice filled you and you started to follow the tracks down to her cavern again. It became a mantra in your mind. “Boris will not end up like them. Boris will not end up like them. BORIS WILL NOT END UP LIKE THEM.” So deep in your thoughts you didn’t realize when the room around you began to darken, the lights dampening, and the living ink began to infiltrate the room. The very wood of the walls and roof, was saturated to the point of ink dripping through the sodden boards, the blackness slowly becoming absolute, but you still didn’t notice, your mind consumed with the thought of your father and Boris.
It wasn’t until you heard the scream behind you that you slowly turned around.
The Demon Bendy, coming straight for you, an ugly snarl on its face, and two arms outstretched to grab.
You screamed before running off, ink splashing up and around your shoes. How could you be so careless? But there was no time for that. “Hide, hide, hide…” you muttered as you ran through endless hallways, cutting corners and running down and up stairs, desperately trying to lose him.
As if someone was looking out for you, there was a safe zone around the next corner.
You almost threw yourself inside the little house, clicking the door shut behind you. There was a narrow slot where you could see through, and luckily all you could see was the expense of the hallway, and one of those Bendy cut outs. You must have managed to get some distance between you and the demon but you already knew that it wasn’t enough… it was never enough. You clamped your hand around your mouth to stifle the sounds of your breathing as you tried to stop your body from shaking so much. Your knees were shaking, teeth were chattering and your spine, had it not been aching from the fall, it too would have been swaying like a reed in a storm.
As you watched the lumbering giant walked slowly up the hallway. You just realized that ink seemed to be flowing into his eyes, blinding him. For a moment you felt a peak of elation – a weak point! – but you already knew that he could hear you, and possibly feel the vibrations of the studio. How else could he had found you so fast so many times before?
Bendy approached the little house, he was whispering something. “Come on out little treat… I know you’re there…. don’t you want to dance with a demon?” A shiver ran up your spine. He sounded exactly like the Bendy on the cartoons. This Bendy was a lot larger, even making Boris look like a lap dog.
He was still speaking, singing. “Don’t you want to play with me? All this chasing… I thought you liked tag!” He laughed, in a low, rumbling tone, reminding you of a truck’s breaks.
“Do you like my cut outs little one? Angel doesn’t, that’s why she had you destroy them. I bet she never told you why though. I’ll let you on a little secret~” he had turned towards the safe house suddenly, the grin becoming wider, the teeth turning from rectangles to jagged triangles.
“She doesn’t like it that I have a set of eyes, everywhere you turn.”
Wait…
WHAT?
The door to the safe house was thrown open and a dark, dripping hand grasped your throat before you had a chance to scream or beg. He lifted you effortlessly from the house, grinning as your hands fruitlessly pounded on his large one. Tears already were dripping down your face…
Was this how you were going to die? At the hands of the cartoon character?
“There you are little treat~ Let’s have some fun, hmm?” he asked you.
#bendy and the ink machine#bendy and the kink machine#bendy x reader#bendy x female reader#boris the wolf#angel (bendy and the ink machine)#poor boris#chapter three spoilers#chases#threats of violence#mentions of non-con
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Brad Marchand Licking Everyone is the Height of NHL Stupidity
Licking people can be good or bad, depending on the context.
In the context of a lover awakening you in the morning, it can be a terrific way to begin the day; in the context of a stranger on the subway running his tongue over your neck and smelling your hair, you should find a police officer immediately. Brad Marchand, the most-talented rat since Splinter, has become something of a licking pioneer in the 2018 playoffs because he found the coveted Licking Gray Area where you gotta hear both sides on FORCING YOUR TONGUE ONTO PEOPLE.
Marchand in the first round ran his tongue over the cheek of Toronto’s Leo Komarov; in the second round, Marchand found a way to make it more erotic by licking the lip and chin of Ryan Callahan as if the juices of a pear were dripping down his mouth. Neither lick resulted in a penalty but the incidents will be long remembered for creating a centrifuge of hockey stupidity.
I honestly can’t get over how dumb all this is, and I write about the NHL for a living. Some people’s beats are politics, entertainment, war—mine is dumb shit the NHL does. I have such a high tolerance for sports league stupidity that when other sports writers gripe about catch rules or poor refereeing or free agency collusion, I can lean over and say in the most worldly tone possible:
“Oh yeah? Any of your leagues have one of its highest-ranking executives tell a guy voted to the All-Star Game he should withdraw because he’d embarrass his wife and kids and have it go public, only to have that player win All-Star Game MVP? And have the executive somehow gain more responsibility in the years that followed? Yeah, didn’t think so. That’s the NHL.”
Then I’d go back to drinking my bourbon alone as the other sports reporters asked each other in hushed tones how that story could be true since the NHL folded a decade ago.
This Marchand stuff is something else entirely. If this were a horror movie, I’d be the old man that scares the young reporters by exchanging my usual stone-faced cynicism for terrified bewilderment at all the stupidity around this story. It checks all the usual NHL boxes and several new ones. Just thinking about all the stupid involved is overwhelming.
Let’s look at each stupid thing separately. We owe it to ourselves.
Brad Marchand — The epicenter of dumb. You can bet that when he first thought to do this, he could not have been more pleased with himself. You’d have to meet a writer from Family Guy to find a person more self-satisfied by a bad idea.
I get why Marchand does it. He’s in close proximity to someone he does not want to fight, but instead of talking shit or skating away, Marchand’s flight instinct has been replaced by a licking instinct. There’s probably some animal in the wild that uses this technique to fend off larger predators, and Marchand learned about it at 3 AM. on NatGeo and decided to add it to his repertoire of forearms to skulls and low-bridging guys.
All the licking never had its desired effect—drawing the opponent into a retaliation penalty. Hockey players will take their skate off and chase you around if you hit them with a legal check but nobody took the bait on Marchand’s licking, which makes the licking doubly dumb. God, I hate this story.
Boston Bruins — Marchand has been putting his mouth on hockey players for years. It started with teammates and slowly evolved into frenching guys on the other team. Marchand kissed Komarov earlier this season, so when he licked him in the playoffs, people treated it like the next step in a burgeoning relationship instead of something that needed to be immediately curtailed. You’d think either coaches or teammates would pull Marchand aside and tell him to knock it off for the benefit of the team, but no, they did not.
This is like Tom Wilson’s attempted murders only on a smaller, weirder scale; if the Capitals had told Wilson to rein it in, maybe he doesn't get suspended three games in the second round. Nothing happened after the second lick of Callahan so it didn’t really hurt the Bruins, but could you imagine losing a series because your best player was in the penalty box for 17 minutes or suspended a game for LICKING SOMEBODY???
More importantly, if coach Bruce Cassidy told Marchand to cut this out after the Komarov licking, I’m writing about something else entirely right now.
Ryan Callahan — I understand that discussing someone licking you during a fight is virgin territory so you don’t have a go-to response to the question, but positing that a face lick is the same as someone spitting in your face is idiotic. They are at best distant cousins in the world of saliva attacks and there’s no reason for this comparison when you are well within your rights as a human and hockey player to say, “Please stop licking me.”
This is like going to HR because a co-worker stole your lunch but instead of simply discussing the infraction you find yourself saying, “What if he had shit in my lunch, huh? And I ate that shit lunch? That’s the same as stealing it!” No it’s not. Stop it.
The NHL — It’s really weird writing about the stupidity of something NHL-related and the NHL itself is basically an accessory after the fact instead of the perpetrator. It should have done something immediately when Marchand struck in the first round, but this is the league that looks for ways to avoid suspensions for head hits, so it’s not surprising it looked the other way on this and hoped it would go away.
However, this is also the league that saw its best player a few years ago have to miss time with the mumps like some goddamn weary traveler on the Oregon Trail, and yet it saw no problem with the unwanted transfer or saliva from player to player in the playoffs. There was a report that Marchand received a warning from the NHL after the Komarov encounter in the first round, but he denied it. Or maybe he lied about that and actually was warned, ignored the warning, licked away again, and instead of suspending a borderline Hart Trophy candidate for his insubordination, the NHL pretended the first warning never happened so he wouldn’t miss an elimination game Sunday afternoon.
Yep, that’s right: this was the Licking Conspiracy section of this story. I hate this. I am as dumb as anyone involved with this.
Outraged media — Look, you shouldn’t lick people that don’t want to be licked. That’s an unwritten rule in hockey but it’s very much a written rule—a law, even—in regular life. So I’m not unsympathetic to people that have a problem with Marchand licking people. I agree he shouldn’t do it!
But the outrage caused by the licking in comparison to, say, unnecessary hits causing brain damage, made everyone look silly.
“MY HEAVENS! MY STARS! WHERE ARE THE MANNERS ON THIS LOATHSOME BRUTE!?!? WHY WON’T A WHITE KNIGHT RIDE INTO TOWN AND DISPENSE JUSTICE ONTO THIS CRETIN AND HIS WAYWARD TONGUE! WON’T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!! HOW FAR HAS THIS NOBLE AND PURE SPORT FALLEN THAT NO ONE WILL SAVE US FROM THIS INTERLOPER’S PERVERSE SALIVA!!”
"Yeah, but what about the head hits causing concussions and brain damage?"
“Hey, nothing we can do about that. Hockey plays, you know? Sometimes they go wrong.”
"But it seems like you’re more upset with licking than—"
“WHY I DO DECLARE, THE FIEND HAS LICKED ANOTHER! [faints]”
I give up.
Marchand defenders — On the other end of the spectrum are people refusing to acknowledge licking people without consent is bad because it’s not as bad as the aforementioned head hits. A thing can be not as bad as something else and still be bad. I don’t want a slice of pineapple pizza any more than I want someone to hit my knee with a hammer. We shouldn’t have either thing in our lives.
Two other quick ones — No, taking away the instigator penalty would not allow players to police this sort of thing. People act like the NHL was this peaceful world in the 1980s and not a lawless land of perpetual assaults when there was no instigator rule. It would be like using a bazooka to kill a fly and you can’t even guarantee you’d kill the fly.
Also, the NHL’s public relations department and NBC announcers Kenny Albert, Pierre McGuire, and Ed Olczyk seemed to be under orders to not use the phrase “licking” when using or discussing the formal warning. NBC showed extreme close-ups of Marchand’s tongue but nobody said the word “licking.” We all saw it! You can say the word!
At least the Bruins were eliminated and this story is now over.
Due to an editing error, a previous version of this article said Marchand licked two Tampa Bay Lightning players. It has been updated to reflect that he licked a player on Tampa as well as a Player on the Toronto Maple Leafs. We regret the error. Seriously, though, we really weren't kidding about how this makes everyone look bad.
Brad Marchand Licking Everyone is the Height of NHL Stupidity published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/
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Don’t Be a Zero Be a Hero ….
Well the world of sports is still turning and the stories are coming in thick and fast. Tiger Woods is back on the PGA Tour , confident enough , but still
far away from his peak form when he was in his prime . He came
within one shot of taking the Valspar Championship this past weekend , losing to eventual winner Paul Casey of England. Had Woods won the tournament, he would be an automatic qualifier for the first Grand Slam Major of the season, the Masters Tournament , April 5th to 8th held at the Augusta National CC in Augusta, Georgia. Woods as a previous winner of the tournament will be in the field and it will be interesting to see how he fares in the first Major of the season. Next up on the Tour schedule will be the Arnold Palmer Invitational at the Bay Hill Club & Lodge in Bay Hill, a suburb of Orlando.
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The Arnold Palmer Invitational is one of the most popular tournaments on the Florida swing of the PGA Tour schedule with official prize money of over $8,000,000 with the winner of the event taking home the first prize winner’s check of $1.7 million ($1,700,000). There are also 500 FedEx Cup points going to the winner of the tournament , with the points adding their accrued totals in FedEx Cup points’ standings ,which is currently being led by Justin Thomas with 1573 points , closely followed Patton Kizzire some 259 points drift of Thomas in the FedEx Cup standings.
Tiger Woods for his part , with all of the health issues and personal problems of the past three years , we do know he is not the player he once was. If anything he lacks confidence , while many of his younger contemporaries are playing with such confidence that they’re no longer intimidated by Woods’ once powerful game. As confident as the former world number one golfer might be , I now feel that Tiger Woods’ best days are now behind him and not ahead of him. I could very well be wrong with my assumptions as all it would take for him to get his complete confidence back. Yet given his psyche and lack of confidence in his game prior to and coming off his most recent injuries and personal issues, as I alluded to earlier , Woods remains a long way off from where he needs to be providing a great deal of confidence for the likes of Dustin Johnson , Rory McIlroy , Jordan Spieth and Justin Thomas.
This PGA season should make for a very interesting year in the world of golf.
So Mommy didn’t kiss the boo-boo and you’re still bitching and whining ? Well ,that’s the way it now appears to be at this time of the year within the NFL as the players in free agency seek to get paid , while there are players with a no more than one or two years left on their respective contracts also looking for a larger piece of an ever increasing pie .
With the relationship between Commissioner Roger Goodell and Dallas Cowboys’ owner Jerry Jones now at an all-time low. There appears to be a great deal of dissension now taking place within the league and the ruling hierarchy . Goodell has set another precedent in terms of his autocratic rule , stating that the Cowboys and in particular the owner (Jones) will be hit with a hefty multi-million fine , believed to be in excess of $2 million for conduct detrimental to the league . Much of this stems from Roger Goodell’s punishment of Dallas’ running back Ezekiel Elliot who had been hit with a multi-game suspension during the regular season for the Dallas Cowboys.
Another troubled player on the Dallas Cowboys’ roster happens to be their wide receiver Dez Bryant . The receiver wants to be paid
like a superstar , but injuries and lack of productivity suggests he is not worth the money he is looking for, in spite of his claims that he is far better than Mike Evans whose contract is up for negotiation with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers . Evans for his part has proven to be a consistent performer for a franchise which has failed to live up to expectations over the past two seasons at least . It has been almost a decade since the Buccaneers made an appearance in the postseason , with that appearance coming in 2007 with a loss to the New York Giants in the wildcard round within the NFC . . .Say what you will about the Buccaneers , but I don’t believe that they aim to please !!!
The Dallas Cowboys won’t be cash-strapped by the cap , but I certainly don’t believe that Jerry Jones will be willing to overpay for Dez Bryant when there are far better options for him by way of free agency or during the NFL Draft where there will be a glut of wide receivers.
Tyrann Mathieu is out with the Arizona Cardinals after the front office decided to release the defensive back rather than provide
him with a new contract . So too was the veteran running back and Mathieu’s teammate Adrian Peterson who was shown the door by the franchise. It’s pretty much safe to say, the Cardinals are turning over a new leaf , but I don’t believe they’re at all done with their in-house roster changes . I also believe that Carson Palmer’s days with Arizona are numbered . He has never been able to lead the franchise to a deep postseason run while with the Arizona Cardinals . His retirement did not come as a surprise, given the length of his career and what he was able to accomplish during that time, having been a Heisman Trophy winner . With a new coaching staff in place the franchise will be starting afresh with a slew of new faces and expectations.
So while the Seattle Seahawks couldn’t come to a concrete decision concerning corner-back Richard Sherman as to whether or not they would retain him. Somehow within the front office and probably much to the chagrin of Pete Carroll , it was decided he would be allowed to become a free agent. No sooner was that decision made , the San Francisco 49ers swooped in to sign the Pro Bowl player to a very lucrative contract . Immediately , San Francisco becomes better , with a player who’s likely to provide a great deal of leadership and maturity , while also proving to be a legitimate threat within the NFC West this upcoming season. Add in the fact the offense of the Forty Niners was one of the hottest teams in the league over the final five games of the regular season 2017 . There is every reason to believe not only will they become better , but Jimmy Garopollo might just be the best quarterback in the division and certainly one of the top-ten in the league based on that five-game stretch for the team.
It’s getting to that stage where not everything written will make a great deal of commonsense concerning the NBA . If the rumors are to be believed then LeBron James will have played his last season in Cleveland if the Cleveland Cavaliers were to make it to the NBA Playoffs. Such has been the almost near dissolution of his relationship with team owner Dan Gilbert , I am not so James’ personal friend , confidant and also a minority stake holder in the franchise , Usher (Usher Raymond IV) will be able to persuade James to remain with the franchise. The four-time League MVP is the biggest asset on a young roster , but the fourteen-year veteran is at a stage in his career , where it seems his wish to attain further glory at the team level is beyond his reach with the Cavaliers. is support at best can be described as adequate, but in all honesty against the top-five teams in the Western Conference , I seriously doubt this current roster would be able to hold their own in an NBA Finals’ series much less at this point during the regular season.
For the moment the Cleveland Cavaliers find themselves in something of a tenuous position within the Central Division and clearly facing an obstacle within the Eastern Conference where they were favored to be dominant at the start of the season. These are now troubling times for the Cavaliers and specifically for the coaching staff as well as the front office . They face a dilemma with not only LeBron James , but also several of the players who are also impending free agents. LeBron can opt-out of the final year of his deal, then either choose to re-sign with Cleveland or opt for a more lucrative contract elsewhere. There would likely be at least eight to ten teams interested in signing the player to a five-year deal paying him on average $30 to $40 million a year.
Over their next ten games I expect the Cleveland Cavaliers to be truly tested as too will LeBron James as he seeks to press his claim for a fifth League MVP Award . Next up for the Cleveland Cavaliers will be a game against the Portland Traiblazers , where James will get to go up against Portland’s Damian Lillard in what should prove to be an intriguing contest.
Reigning NBA champions the Golden State Warrior are on pace to have a sixty-win season, but the loss of Klay Thompson could prove to be worrisome for the team and particular for Steve Kerr and his coaching staff . Thompson is expected to miss the remainder of the Warriors’ regular season schedule and quite possibly the early rounds of the NBA Playoffs. GM Bob Myers might feel it necessary not to risk further injury to their All Star and have him sit out the entire postseason. However, I feel it would be best to have Klay on the sidelines , especially in wake of the recent dominance shown by the Houston Rockets who have proven to be almost unstoppable of their last fifteen games. The Rockets will be back on court when they are due to face the Los Angeles Clippers .
Say what you will , but there will be some major disappointments this upcoming season within the world of baseball. Derek Jeter has already alienated the fans of the Miami Marlins with his imploding of the team’s roster. On Opening Day it will be hard to recognize several of the names donned in a Marlins’ uniform.
As a co-owner of the Miami Marlins Derek Jeter has gutted the roster to such an extent that its payroll barely seems acceptable much less plausible and while I understand the ball-club has been hemorrhaging red ink for the past three seasons. I do believe the sacrifices made are no guarantee of future success. A $70 million payroll in this day and age is not going to cut it when you’re going up against the big boys of Major League Baseball . . It will be interesting to see how the Marlins fare through their first twenty-five games of this upcoming season in baseball. Martin Prado will be asked to lead this Marlins’ team and as quite possibly the best player on the roster it will be down to him to lead by example. Manager Don Mattingly and his managerial staff will have their work cut out for them in 2018 as I don’t expect
the Miami Marlins to be that competitive in what will likely be a very good NL East division. Miami will open their regular season schedule on Opening Day with a game against the Chicago Cubs at Marlins Ballpark in Miami, Florida. .
Byron Scott, the now fired former coach of the Hornets. GM , Jeff Bower who has now assumeed the position of head coach on an interim basis. And assistant coach , Tim Floyd. It’s safe to assume that the reins may well be handed over to Floyd at some time in the future given the fact Bower has no experience as a coach of any kind with regard to the NBA . picture apears courtesy of nbae/ getty images / Richard Tyson …………..
Rays’ third baseman , Evan Longoria at the plate for team. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Vic Hallam
Carl Crawford’s three-run home run in the sixth inning highlighted Tampa Bay’s three-game sweep of the Angels. The Rays are five games over .500 for the first time in team history. photo appears courtesy of the Associated Press/ Mike Carlson ………….
Gatots’ player Tim Tebow (15) and his coach Urban Meyer discuss their options during a game. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Chris Dickson ……………….
Major League Baseball commissioner Bud Selig’s steroids proposal, made to the union last month, calls for a 50-game ban for first offenders, a 100-game penalty for second offenders and a lifetime ban for a third positive test. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press / Adam Roundtree …….
Carolina Panthers’ Julius Peppers saluting fans as he walks off the field after the Panthers’ 23-10 win over the New Orleans Saints in an NFL football game in Charlotte, N.C. The Panthers have decided the price is too steep to keep their all-time sacks leader. It means five-time Pro Bowl defensive end Julius Peppers is about to become one of the top prizes in free agency. Agent Carl Carey says the Panthers have told him they won’t place the restrictive franchise tag on Peppers for a second consecutive year at a cost of more than $20 million. The move Tuesday, Feb. 23, 2010, comes two days before the tag deadline. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Rick Havner ……
Mike Dunleavy (#17) of the Indiana Pacers goes up for the lay up against Brendan Haywood (#33) of the Dallas Mavericks during a game at the American Airlines Center on February 22, 2010 in Dallas, Texas. photo appears courtesy of NBAE/ Getty Images/ Glenn James ……………….
University of Michigan President Mary Sue Coleman, left, and head football coach Rich Rodriguez, right, are shown at a news conference in Ann Arbor, Mich., Tuesday, Feb. 23, 2010. The NCAA has found that Michigan’s storied football program was out of compliance with practice time rules under coach Rodriguez. Incoming athletic director David Brandon disclosed the finding Tuesday. He says there were no surprises in the NCAA findings. He also says Rodriguez remains the coach. Michigan has 90 days to respond and will appear at an NCAA hearing on infractions in August. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Paul Sancya ……
Los Angeles -January 13th 2010. New head coach of the USC Trojans Lane Kiffin shakes a hand as he makes his way to his press conference at Heritage Hall in Los Angeles, California. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Harry How ……………..
Duke’s Jon Scheyer collides with Virginia Tech’s Malcolm Delaney, left, during the first half. Scheyer scored 25 points and collected 10 rebounds in the win. The Blue Devils defeated Virginia Tech (Hokies) 67-55 in the game . photo appears courtesy of Associated Press / Sara Davis ……………..
Chicago Cubs owner Tom Ricketts speaks to the media Tuesday, Feb. 23, 2010 at the Chicago Cubs spring training facility in Mesa, Ariz. photo appears Assoc. Press/ Matt York ….
Chicago Cubs manager Lou Piniella, right, along with coaches Matt Sinatro, middle, and Lester Strode watch pitchers warm up during spring training baseball camp practice Saturday, Feb. 20, 2010, in Mesa, Ariz. photo appears courtesy of Assoc. Press/ Ross D. Franklin ………..
Minnesota Twins pitcher Joe Mauer swings in the batting cage at baseball spring training in Fort Myers, Fla., Thursday, Feb. 25, 2010. photo appears courtesy of Assoc Press/ Nati Harnik …….
Florida Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria, left, watches batting practice with Marlins manager Fredi Gonzalez during spring training baseball Wednesday, Feb. 24, 2010, in Jupiter, Fla. With the smallest payroll in the majors last year, the Marlins won 87 games and finished six games behind eventual league champion Philadelphia in the NL East. Visiting spring training to watch the first full-squad workout, Loria said the 2009 Marlins underachieved. photo appears courtesy of Assoc Press/Jeff Roberson ……..
Israeli model Bar Refaeli seen here doing a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition phot-shoot.
Ray Allen (#20) of the Boston Celtics looks for a play against LeBron James (#23) of the Cleveland Cavaliers on February 25, 2010 at the TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts. photo appears courtesy of NBAE/ Getty Images/ Brian Babbineau …..
Floyd Mayweather, left, and current WBA welterweight super champion Shane Mosley exchange words during a news conference in New York, Tuesday, March 2, 2010. The press conference was to promote their May 1, 2010 fight in Las Vegas, Nevada. photo appears courtesy of Assoc Press/ Seth Wenig ……..
Floyd Mayweather, left, and current WBA welterweight world champion Shane Mosley pose for a picture during a news conference in New York, Tuesday, March 2, 2010. The news conference was to promote their May 1, 2010 fight in Las Vegas, Nevada. photo appears courtesy of Assoc Press /Seth Wenig
Scott Boras, chided for bonus demands for amateur clients, says the Major League Baseball draft needs restructuring. “In this system, everybody thinks this is about money. No, this is about saving money. It allows for less mistakes,” he says. photo appears courtesy of USA Today Jason M. Millstein ………………..
Commissioner of Major League Baseball Bud Selig and actress Sarah-Jessica Parker take part in an on field presentation during the 79th MLB All-Star Game at Yankee Stadium on July 15, 2008 in the Bronx borough of New York City. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images North America / Jim McIsaac ……………
Stacey Dash , actress , designer and entrepreneur .
Jennifer Aniston shows us that she’s more than willing to be your ‘friend’ ?
Model & Playboby playmate Naureen Zaim . Who wouldn’t mind teaching her a lesson or two on human anatomy ?
Cuban American actress & model Natalie Martinez
Martinez again looking good as only she possibly can !
Oh mon ami ! she possibly can ! Je t’aime !</strong
Who wouldn’t want to play with Natalie Martinez ?
Well hello there !
Model & actress Natalie Martinez ……….
Actress & model Natalie Martinez …….. Who wouldn’t want to get ahold of her rims ? I know I would !
New York Yankees’ Alex Rodriguez watches his fly-out in the first inning of a spring training baseball game against the Philadelphia Phillies, Friday, March 26, 2010, in Tampa, Fla. photo appears courtesy of Assoc Press / Mike Carlson ….
Sarasoata , Fl ,. Infielder Adrian Beltre (29) of the Boston Red Sox throws over to first for an out against the Baltimore Orioles during a Grapefruit League Spring Training Game at Ed Smith Stadium on March 27, 2010 in Sarasota, Florida. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ J Meric ……….
St. Louis , Bobby Maze (3) of the Tennessee Volunteers looks to shoot the ball against Mike Kebler (20) and Draymond Green (23) both of the Michigan State Spartans during the midwest regional final of the 2010 NCAA men’s basketball tournament at the Edward Jones Dome on March 28, 2010 in St. Louis, Missouri. Michigan State beat Tennessee 70-69. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Dilip Vishwanat …
The Duke Blue Devils hold up the trophy after a 78-71 win over the Baylor Bears in the south regional final of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament at Reliant Stadium in Houston on Sunday. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Ronald Martinez …
Butler’s Nick Rodgers hold up the West Regional trophy as the team returned home to Indianapolis amid a throng of fans after earning a spot in the Final Four with a victory over Kansas State Saturday. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ A J Mast ………..
West Virginia’s Da’Sean Butler and Joe Mazzulla hug after the game. Butler scored 18 points and Mazulla pitched in a career-high 17 to help West Virginia hold off the Wildcats. The Mountaineers would defeat the Kentucky Wildcats 73-66 to make their way the Final Four of the NCAA Tournament. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Jim McIsaac ……….
Russian actress & model Anya Monzikova . Who wouldn’t want some of Monzikova alongside some fresh Beluga caviar ?
2008 Heisman Trophy winner Sam Bradford. The player is widely expected to be taken number one overall in the upcoming NFL Draft. The team with the first pick are the NFC’s St Louis Rams . photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Chris Rogers ………..
Eagles’ quarterback Donovan McNabb. The player is said to want to remain with the Eagles but it’s becoming clear that he will be traded sooner rather than later. Eagles’ coach Andy Reid and team President Joe Banner are willing to listen to offers for the Pro Bowler. photo appears courtesy of US Presswire/ Jody Gomez ………….
Tebow (15) left is seen here alongside his former college coach Urban Meyer. The two proved to be very sucessfule as a team combining to win two national titles in four years. photo appears courtesy of boston.com/ articles …………
DeMaurice Smith Executive Director of the NFLPA. Smith who assumed the position after the death of his predecessor Gene Upshaw. He was elected to the position by the board members of the Players’ Association. Smith was a corporate litigation attorney for the DC law firm Patton Boggs. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Phillip Mitchell
Carlos Boozer #5 of the Utah Jazz has his shot challenged by Kobe Bryant #24 of the Los Angeles Lakers at Staples Center on April 2, 2010 in Los Angeles, California. The Lakers would go on to defeat the Jazz 102-96 in the game . photo appears courtesy of NBAE/ Getty Images/ Andrew D Bernstein ………..
Donovan McNabb of the Philadelphia Eagles. The player was traded to the Washington Redskins a divisional rival in the NFC East. It adds to the flavor this upcoming season when the player meets his ‘former team’ . photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Hugh Malcolm ………………..
Baylor’s Brittney Griner and U Conn’s Maya Moore are seen here during the women’s Final Four game between the two teams. Geno Auriemma’s Huskies would go on to defeat the Baylor Lady Bears 70-50 in the game played at the Alamodome in San Antonio , Texas , Sunday April 4th 2010. photo appears courtesy of Getty Images/ Alicia Mack ………..
Cleveland Browns nose tackle Shaun Rogers and his lawyer Patrick D’Angelo, center, talk to reporters after leaving Cleveland Police Headquarters where Rogers was charged with one felony count of carrying a concealed weapon on Friday, April 2, 2010, in Cleveland, Ohio. Rogers was arrested at Cleveland Hopkins International airport on Thursday after he tried to take a loaded handgun through airport security. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Jason Miller …..
Butler head coach Brad Stevens , left to right, Gordon Hayward and Ronald Nored smile during an interview session for the men’s NCAA Final Four college basketball championship Sunday, April 4, 2010, in Indianapolis. The Butler Bulldogs will face Mike Krzyzewski’s Duke Blue Devils in the championship game Monday night to be played at Lucas Oil Stadium , Indianapolis, Indiana. This in many ways will be very much a “home game” for the small and in-obtrusive college team from Indiana. The furor over over their improbable journey has resonated within the state and across the nation. photo appears courtesy of Associated Press/ Mark J Terrill ……………
Los Angeles, April 4th 2010. Manu Ginobil (20) of the San Antonio Spurs goes to the basket against Luke Walton (4) of the Los Angeles Lakers at Staples Center on Sunday. The San Antonio Spurs would go on to defeat the Los Angeles Lakers 100-81 in a game played at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California. photo appears courtesy of NBAE/ Getty Images/ Noah Grahame …………….
Tiki Barber and his wife Gina Cha. Barber’s wife is six months pregnant with twins and is now in the midst of separating from the former NFL star. photo appears courtesy of Wire Image/ Duffie Marie Arnoult ………….
23 year old Traci Lynn Johnson an intern with NBC Universal and who works alongside Tiki Barber on the NBC morning show “The Today Show” . Barber and Johnson are romantically involved and the former NFL star has now separated from his wife of 11 years , Gina Cha. The couple have two children with twin now on the way in terms of Cha’s pregnancy. photo appears courtesy of Social Media SEO ……….
http://www.nfl.com/draft/2010/tracker#dt-tabs:dt-by-round/dt-by-round-input:1
Playboy Playmate Kayle Collins …………August 2008. Is there a need to proceed further concerning Kayle’s attributes ?
Jameer Nelson of the Orlando Magic goes for the layup in the Eastern Conference semi-final game played against the Atlanta Hawks. NBAE/ Getty Images/ Fernando Medina ………
Head Coach Jerry Sloan of the Utah Jazz fields questions from the media following his team’s loss to the Los Angeles Lakers in Game Two of the Western Conference Semifinals during the 2010 NBA Playoffs at Staples Center on May 4, 2010 in Los Angeles, California. NBAE Getty Images _ Andrew D Bernstein
Kobe Bryant (24) of the Los Angeles Lakers shoots against Deron Williams (8 )of the Utah Jazz in Game Two of the Western Conference Semifinals during the 2010 NBA Playoffs at Staples Center on May 4, 2010 in Los Angeles, California. NBAE Getty Images/ Noah D Bernstein
JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – JUNE 24: (L-R) Robert Vittek, Martin Skrtel and Radoslav Zabavnik of Slovakia celebrate victory after knocking Italy out of the competition during the 2010 FIFA World Cup South Africa Group F match between Slovakia and Italy at Ellis Park Stadium on June 24, 2010 in Johannesburg, South Africa. Photo by David Cannon/Getty Images ……
Johannesburg , South Africa – June 24 th 2010. Kamil Kopunek of Slovakia celebrates scoring his team’s third goal during the 2010 FIFA World Cup South Africa Group F match between Slovakia and Italy at Ellis Park Stadium on June 24, 2010 in Johannesburg, South Africa. Photo by Christof Koepsel/Getty Images ……
Fabio Cannavaro, captain of Italy, leaves the field dejected after being knocked out of the competition by Slovakia during the 2010 FIFA World Cup South Africa Group F match between Slovakia and Italy at Ellis Park Stadium on June 24, 2010 in Johannesburg, South Africa. Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images ………
In this Sept. 18, 2010, photo, Florida Marlins’ Dan Uggla bats in a baseball game against the Chicago Cubs in Miami. Uggla has been traded from the Marlins to the Atlanta Braves for infielder Omar Infante and left-hander Mike Dunn. (AP Photo/Alan Diaz)
This is a 2008 file photo of Dan Uggla of the Florida Marlins baseball team. Uggla and the Atlanta Braves have reached a preliminary agreement on a $62 million, five-year contract, a person familiar with the negotiations told The Associated Press Wednesday Jan. 5, 2011 on condition of anonymity because the agreement was not yet final. (AP Photo/Rob Carr, File)
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Baltimore Orioles starting pitcher Wei-Yin Chen (16), of Taiwan, comes into the dugout following the fourth inning of a baseball game against the Tampa Bay Rays, Saturday, Aug. 4, 2012, in St. Petersburg, Fla. (AP Photo/Brian Blanco)
ST. PETERSBURG – AUGUST 04: Designated hitter Jeff Keppinger #7 of the Tampa Bay Rays fouls off a pitch against the Baltimore Orioles during the game at Tropicana Field on August 4, 2012 in St. Petersburg, Florida. (Photo by J. Meric/Getty Images)
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Ink Demon’s Game (reblog)
Your father, against his better judgement, decided to go meet with Joey after so many years apart. Now he’s missing and many people are reluctant to do anything about it. So you brave the old studio and find evidence of your father being there, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You must travel deeper into the studio, braving the errands of Angel, meet Boris and escape from the grasp of Bendy…
All while trying to find your father.
Good luck. You’ll be needing it.
Just remember - this is where all your dreams come true
You couldn’t help but take a deep sigh of relief as you stepped into the lift for what would be the last time, smiling at Boris.
Angel had you running all over her area of the studio, being her little errand girl for the day, as her last errand boy had mysteriously disappeared. Part of you thought it was just a rouse as her list of to-do’s seemed scattered, random almost. But you had never seen an angel, let alone an angel made of ink, so it was possible that she needed the ink for herself, to keep her decaying body in one piece. The gears and power charges were confusing to you, why would a creature such as her want with them? And those hearts… your hands itched thinking about the feel of them in your hands. The slime and the texture. Perhaps it was your imagination but one had faintly pulsed in your hand when you had picked it up. No, you were glad that that was over with. When you finally got out of here you were going to take the longest, hottest shower you could stand, scrubbing the ink from your pores till not a stain remained. To do that, you needed to get out of this damned place first. As Angel pondered about heaven and how she had always imagined it, you let your mind wander.
Her last errand boy… Angel had mentioned an errand boy before you… one that hadn’t returned to her chambers.
It was no accident that you were in the old, deserted studio. You had come here looking for your father, Henry. He had worked here, once upon a time, about thirty years ago he had said. Before Joey had completely taken it over he had been one of the head animators, in charge of drawing out repetitive drawings for their cartoon, Bendy the Dancing Demon. Thirty years ago, Henry and Joey had a disagreement and Henry had turned his back on the staff and crew, vowing never to set foot in there again. And he hadn’t. He had gotten a new job, married, and then had you. A few days ago Joey had sent him a frantic message, telling him that he needed to show him something and he had left, promising you and your mother that he would be home in time for supper.
Supper had come and gone, and there was no sign of your father.
You had urged your mom to call the cops but she had refused. She had wondered if he and Joey had gotten distracted, catching up over dinner and drinks, and then your father had neglected to call home and let everyone else know of his change in plans. That excuse didn’t excuse the second day, nor did it explain the third…
You had tried calling the police yourself and they had promised to check it out. When they got around to it. Curse this town and it’s small crew of officers. Oversight on the council’s part to cut funding for the officers. ‘Nothing happens here, do we need a full taskforce?’ one had dared ask.
These thoughts were interrupted when the elevator stopped and shuddered. That’s when you heard Angel’s maniacal laughter. You knew that she was unhinged, slightly deranged but that crazy? She was a cartoon character, you chided yourself, anything was possible with them.
Boris looked at you, the pupils of his eyes possibly round with fear, you couldn’t quite tell with him.
The lift dropped like a stone. Boris covered his head, shaking like a leaf. You left to grip to the sides of elevator, praying that the cable would catch, that you would be safe, that you would survive this fall.
But with old style elevators, they just don’t have the same safety mechanisms as modern day ones.
As Angel screamed about taking Boris, you somehow moved closer to him. You wouldn’t allow that monster to take him. Boris had shown you nothing but kindness. He had walked you through the twists and turns of the tunnels, opened the locked doors, and had even shown you the safe rooms. No, he would be protected. Boris would not meet the same fate as those other Borises in her little experimentation and torture room.
Before you could promise Boris anything, the elevator finally crashed. The momentum causing you to hit your head on the metal bars, before falling to the ground. The last vision you saw before the world turned dark was one of your father, smiling down at you.
When you finally came to, Boris was shaking you gently, trying to wake you. Your head throbbed, and your vision swam. Why was it so hard to concentrate? Where were you?
Boris still shook you gently, mutely pleading for you to wake, get up, and continue your journey. That’s when the shadow started to approach the two of you, slowly, stealthy, as if they didn’t want to be seen or heard.
Angel.
You tried to say something, but your traitorous body was too weak to do anything. Your mouth gaped like a fish, no words escaping, and your eyes still swam with darkness and stars.
When you were next aware, Boris was reaching out to you, almost pleadingly, as Angel jerked him back. Down to her cave of horrors… of death.
You tried to rise again but, instead you succumbed to the darkness, completely helpless.
Many hours passed before your eyes opened again. Your body was completely battered and bruised, your clothes coated in ink. Your skull throbbed in tune with your heartbeat and your back was stiff.
Where… where was Boris? He had been in front of you, shaking you. Or was he in the elevator? Waiting for you to finish your errands and return to him?
Piece by piece your memories and anger slowly returned. Angel, heh someone had a cruel sense of humour in naming her that… you remembered seeing the evil angel behind him now, jerking him off his feet and away from you.
No time for rest. Both Boris and your father needed you.
As quick as you could you pulled yourself to your feet, forcing yourself up and preparing to move. You swayed, your injuries still very much affecting you and your sense of balance, causing you to grip the wall and handrail in the search for relief. You pushed onward. Eventually your body became used to the pain and the abuse, and you were able to ignore the stars and impending darkness in your peripheral vision.
In all her glory, Angel had not considered her ‘heavenly’ footprints on the hardwood floor, nor had she thought of the long smears caused by Boris, probably where he had struggled to get free. A perfect trail, waiting for you to follow.
A sense of justice filled you and you started to follow the tracks down to her cavern again. It became a mantra in your mind. “Boris will not end up like them. Boris will not end up like them. BORIS WILL NOT END UP LIKE THEM.” So deep in your thoughts you didn’t realize when the room around you began to darken, the lights dampening, and the living ink began to infiltrate the room. The very wood of the walls and roof, was saturated to the point of ink dripping through the sodden boards, the blackness slowly becoming absolute, but you still didn’t notice, your mind consumed with the thought of your father and Boris.
It wasn’t until you heard the scream behind you that you slowly turned around.
The Demon Bendy, coming straight for you, an ugly snarl on its face, and two arms outstretched to grab.
You screamed before running off, ink splashing up and around your shoes. How could you be so careless? But there was no time for that. “Hide, hide, hide…” you muttered as you ran through endless hallways, cutting corners and running down and up stairs, desperately trying to lose him.
As if someone was looking out for you, there was a safe zone around the next corner.
You almost threw yourself inside the little house, clicking the door shut behind you. There was a narrow slot where you could see through, and luckily all you could see was the expense of the hallway, and one of those Bendy cut outs. You must have managed to get some distance between you and the demon but you already knew that it wasn’t enough… it was never enough. You clamped your hand around your mouth to stifle the sounds of your breathing as you tried to stop your body from shaking so much. Your knees were shaking, teeth were chattering and your spine, had it not been aching from the fall, it too would have been swaying like a reed in a storm.
As you watched the lumbering giant walked slowly up the hallway. You just realized that ink seemed to be flowing into his eyes, blinding him. For a moment you felt a peak of elation – a weak point! – but you already knew that he could hear you, and possibly feel the vibrations of the studio. How else could he had found you so fast so many times before?
Bendy approached the little house, he was whispering something. “Come on out little treat… I know you’re there…. don’t you want to dance with a demon?” A shiver ran up your spine. He sounded exactly like the Bendy on the cartoons. This Bendy was a lot larger, even making Boris look like a lap dog.
He was still speaking, singing. “Don’t you want to play with me? All this chasing… I thought you liked tag!” He laughed, in a low, rumbling tone, reminding you of a truck’s breaks.
“Do you like my cut outs little one? Angel doesn’t, that’s why she had you destroy them. I bet she never told you why though. I’ll let you on a little secret~” he had turned towards the safe house suddenly, the grin becoming wider, the teeth turning from rectangles to jagged triangles.
“She doesn’t like it that I have a set of eyes, everywhere you turn.”
Wait…
WHAT?
The door to the safe house was thrown open and a dark, dripping hand grasped your throat before you had a chance to scream or beg. He lifted you effortlessly from the house, grinning as your hands fruitlessly pounded on his large one. Tears already were dripping down your face…
Was this how you were going to die? At the hands of the cartoon character?
“There you are little treat~ Let’s have some fun, hmm?” he asked you.
#bendy and the ink machine#bendy and the kink machine#bendy the demon#boris the wolf#angel (bendy and the ink machine)#bendy x reader#bendy x female reader#chapter three spoilers#threats of violence#non-con#reblog
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Brad Marchand Licking Everyone is the Height of NHL Stupidity
Licking people can be good or bad, depending on the context.
In the context of a lover awakening you in the morning, it can be a terrific way to begin the day; in the context of a stranger on the subway running his tongue over your neck and smelling your hair, you should find a police officer immediately. Brad Marchand, the most-talented rat since Splinter, has become something of a licking pioneer in the 2018 playoffs because he found the coveted Licking Gray Area where you gotta hear both sides on FORCING YOUR TONGUE ONTO PEOPLE.
Marchand in the first round ran his tongue over the cheek of Toronto’s Leo Komarov; in the second round, Marchand found a way to make it more erotic by licking the lip and chin of Ryan Callahan as if the juices of a pear were dripping down his mouth. Neither lick resulted in a penalty but the incidents will be long remembered for creating a centrifuge of hockey stupidity.
I honestly can’t get over how dumb all this is, and I write about the NHL for a living. Some people’s beats are politics, entertainment, war—mine is dumb shit the NHL does. I have such a high tolerance for sports league stupidity that when other sports writers gripe about catch rules or poor refereeing or free agency collusion, I can lean over and say in the most worldly tone possible:
“Oh yeah? Any of your leagues have one of its highest-ranking executives tell a guy voted to the All-Star Game he should withdraw because he’d embarrass his wife and kids and have it go public, only to have that player win All-Star Game MVP? And have the executive somehow gain more responsibility in the years that followed? Yeah, didn’t think so. That’s the NHL.”
Then I’d go back to drinking my bourbon alone as the other sports reporters asked each other in hushed tones how that story could be true since the NHL folded a decade ago.
This Marchand stuff is something else entirely. If this were a horror movie, I’d be the old man that scares the young reporters by exchanging my usual stone-faced cynicism for terrified bewilderment at all the stupidity around this story. It checks all the usual NHL boxes and several new ones. Just thinking about all the stupid involved is overwhelming.
Let’s look at each stupid thing separately. We owe it to ourselves.
Brad Marchand — The epicenter of dumb. You can bet that when he first thought to do this, he could not have been more pleased with himself. You’d have to meet a writer from Family Guy to find a person more self-satisfied by a bad idea.
I get why Marchand does it. He’s in close proximity to someone he does not want to fight, but instead of talking shit or skating away, Marchand’s flight instinct has been replaced by a licking instinct. There’s probably some animal in the wild that uses this technique to fend off larger predators, and Marchand learned about it at 3 AM. on NatGeo and decided to add it to his repertoire of forearms to skulls and low-bridging guys.
All the licking never had its desired effect—drawing the opponent into a retaliation penalty. Hockey players will take their skate off and chase you around if you hit them with a legal check but nobody took the bait on Marchand’s licking, which makes the licking doubly dumb. God, I hate this story.
Boston Bruins — Marchand has been putting his mouth on hockey players for years. It started with teammates and slowly evolved into frenching guys on the other team. Marchand kissed Komarov earlier this season, so when he licked him in the playoffs, people treated it like the next step in a burgeoning relationship instead of something that needed to be immediately curtailed. You’d think either coaches or teammates would pull Marchand aside and tell him to knock it off for the benefit of the team, but no, they did not.
This is like Tom Wilson’s attempted murders only on a smaller, weirder scale; if the Capitals had told Wilson to rein it in, maybe he doesn't get suspended three games in the second round. Nothing happened after the second lick of Callahan so it didn’t really hurt the Bruins, but could you imagine losing a series because your best player was in the penalty box for 17 minutes or suspended a game for LICKING SOMEBODY???
More importantly, if coach Bruce Cassidy told Marchand to cut this out after the Komarov licking, I’m writing about something else entirely right now.
Ryan Callahan — I understand that discussing someone licking you during a fight is virgin territory so you don’t have a go-to response to the question, but positing that a face lick is the same as someone spitting in your face is idiotic. They are at best distant cousins in the world of saliva attacks and there’s no reason for this comparison when you are well within your rights as a human and hockey player to say, “Please stop licking me.”
This is like going to HR because a co-worker stole your lunch but instead of simply discussing the infraction you find yourself saying, “What if he had shit in my lunch, huh? And I ate that shit lunch? That’s the same as stealing it!” No it’s not. Stop it.
The NHL — It’s really weird writing about the stupidity of something NHL-related and the NHL itself is basically an accessory after the fact instead of the perpetrator. It should have done something immediately when Marchand struck in the first round, but this is the league that looks for ways to avoid suspensions for head hits, so it’s not surprising it looked the other way on this and hoped it would go away.
However, this is also the league that saw its best player a few years ago have to miss time with the mumps like some goddamn weary traveler on the Oregon Trail, and yet it saw no problem with the unwanted transfer or saliva from player to player in the playoffs. There was a report that Marchand received a warning from the NHL after the Komarov encounter in the first round, but he denied it. Or maybe he lied about that and actually was warned, ignored the warning, licked away again, and instead of suspending a borderline Hart Trophy candidate for his insubordination, the NHL pretended the first warning never happened so he wouldn’t miss an elimination game Sunday afternoon.
Yep, that’s right: this was the Licking Conspiracy section of this story. I hate this. I am as dumb as anyone involved with this.
Outraged media — Look, you shouldn’t lick people that don’t want to be licked. That’s an unwritten rule in hockey but it’s very much a written rule—a law, even—in regular life. So I’m not unsympathetic to people that have a problem with Marchand licking people. I agree he shouldn’t do it!
But the outrage caused by the licking in comparison to, say, unnecessary hits causing brain damage, made everyone look silly.
“MY HEAVENS! MY STARS! WHERE ARE THE MANNERS ON THIS LOATHSOME BRUTE!?!? WHY WON’T A WHITE KNIGHT RIDE INTO TOWN AND DISPENSE JUSTICE ONTO THIS CRETIN AND HIS WAYWARD TONGUE! WON’T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!! HOW FAR HAS THIS NOBLE AND PURE SPORT FALLEN THAT NO ONE WILL SAVE US FROM THIS INTERLOPER’S PERVERSE SALIVA!!”
"Yeah, but what about the head hits causing concussions and brain damage?"
“Hey, nothing we can do about that. Hockey plays, you know? Sometimes they go wrong.”
"But it seems like you’re more upset with licking than—"
“WHY I DO DECLARE, THE FIEND HAS LICKED ANOTHER! [faints]”
I give up.
Marchand defenders — On the other end of the spectrum are people refusing to acknowledge licking people without consent is bad because it’s not as bad as the aforementioned head hits. A thing can be not as bad as something else and still be bad. I don’t want a slice of pineapple pizza any more than I want someone to hit my knee with a hammer. We shouldn’t have either thing in our lives.
Two other quick ones — No, taking away the instigator penalty would not allow players to police this sort of thing. People act like the NHL was this peaceful world in the 1980s and not a lawless land of perpetual assaults when there was no instigator rule. It would be like using a bazooka to kill a fly and you can’t even guarantee you’d kill the fly.
Also, the NHL’s public relations department and NBC announcers Kenny Albert, Pierre McGuire, and Ed Olczyk seemed to be under orders to not use the phrase “licking” when using or discussing the formal warning. NBC showed extreme close-ups of Marchand’s tongue but nobody said the word “licking.” We all saw it! You can say the word!
At least the Bruins were eliminated and this story is now over.
Due to an editing error, a previous version of this article said Marchand licked two Tampa Bay Lightning players. It has been updated to reflect that he licked a player on Tampa as well as a Player on the Toronto Maple Leafs. We regret the error. Seriously, though, we really weren't kidding about how this makes everyone look bad.
Brad Marchand Licking Everyone is the Height of NHL Stupidity published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/
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