#he used to be so focused on tempering after all... his first real field of research... he probably thinks advanced tempering can be reversed

[windupaidoneus]

emet is encouraging hilde to pull the trigger on his parents btw. they were among the survivors (technically survivors.) of fandaniel's fucked up trick but were in areas not seen in the game & also were still tempered so theyre likely at an irreversible stage... & eventually probably in post dt hildegarde has a mind to check on them. well to check if they are alive at all. & emet refuses to not come along knowing how forgiving he is. & yeah. "youve already forgiven the unforgivable. do not demand any more of yourself". yk. emet being the unforgivable hes forgiven. yahaha. hes killing his parents & it sucks for everyone involved

[spencersmopbucket]

The Party & The After Party | Oliver Wood

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader Summary: After three years of dating, you and Oliver come to the conclusion that you're better off without each other. A few months later, at the start of 7th year, you realize just how wrong you were. Oliver had always had a quick temper, but seeing you being flirted with at a post-victory party seemed to push it to new limits.

Link to: Part 2

You'd grown and matured so much since your first year at Hogwarts.

When you'd arrived, you were sorted into Gryffindor; though you were welcomed, everyone had wondered how. You were quiet, timid, but intelligent and fun when you were yanked from your shell. As the years progressed, you got more confident, until finally, in your 4th year, you met Oliver Wood. He changed everything for you.

Confidence came easily to him. He was good at what he did —Quidditch. He worked hard, played harder, and when he met you, it was the first time ever that he thought of something that wasn't quidditch.

He thought you were beautiful, like the quidditch field early in the morning when it had fresh dew on it. You were polite, oh so smart, respectful.. Everything that Oliver had wanted in a girl, though he didn't think about them very often.

You’d always liked Oliver from afar. Everyone did, really. He had a presence — loud, determined, fearless. But he never looked at anyone the way he eventually looked at you.

It started small. A smile in the corridor after practice. A shared seat in the library when all the others were taken. You didn’t think much of it, assuming he was just being polite — friendly, maybe. But Oliver wasn’t friendly just to be friendly. He was focused, always moving with purpose, and if he gave you attention, it was because he meant to.

He’d wait for you outside of Transfiguration. Offer to carry your books. Leave you notes scribbled on crumpled bits of parchment, full of inside jokes or casual compliments that made your stomach flip. He’d never been good with words — not the flowery kind, at least — but he was honest. Blunt, even. And you liked that about him.

When he asked you out, he was straightforward, cheeks red but eyes steady.

"Look, lass," he'd started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't really do the dating thing, but.. I think of ye a lot and I'd really like to take you to Hogsmeade. Just us, if that's alright."

Of course, like every girl that swooned over the quidditch star Oliver Wood, you were floored. You said yes immediately.

The years that followed weren’t perfect — but they were real. You laughed together, studied together, had late-night walks through the castle where he’d sneak you into the pitch just to show you the stars from the stands. He always said the world looked best from up there, and the only thing that ever rivaled that view was you.

But as sixth year came and went, Oliver began to drift — not in love, but in time. His dream of going pro was so close he could taste it. Every spare minute went into training, every conversation turned back to strategy. You tried to understand. You tried to hold on.

But slowly, quietly, you started to feel like a benchwarmer in your own relationship.

And so, by the end of that year, standing near the lake under a sky full of summer heat and quiet heartbreak, you sniffled quietly: maybe it wasn’t working. Maybe you were growing in different directions.

The breakup didn't come easy. Oliver hated losing above everything he'd ever hated, and being broken up with meant he'd be losing arguably one of the most important things to him. You. He hadn't meant to direct so much of his attention to quidditch — but as he thought more, as he got angrier and more hurt about you breaking things off, he thought that maybe it was what he needed.

It was the final push. With one less distraction, he could go pro. The word distraction echoed through his head, making his chest tighten. Were you really a distraction? Or was he just a fucking git?

Regardless, there was no going back. He couldn't change anything now. You'd left and Oliver wasn't a sorry beggar that was going to grovel at your feet to get you back.

The months of summer passed. You were wounded, suffering — but you'd grown into yourself quite a bit over the summer. Your hair got longer, your shape got fuller, you got more confident, you got more fiery.

Oliver, to be honest, hadn't done the same. He was going to come back to Hogwarts the exact same he'd been, besides the absence of you and the little bit of dimness it had shed onto the light of his personality. He held it together, but he knew. He was an injured dog, wanting to spend more time huddled in a corner trying to heal than do anything else. He missed you, he missed your presence. Without you, it felt even harder to focus.

Seventh year arrived in a haze of new beginnings and old wounds.

You didn’t expect much from Oliver — not anymore. You weren’t even sure if he’d say anything when he saw you. But when you stepped onto the Hogwarts Express that morning, your heart betrayed you, thudding hard against your ribs when you saw him across the platform. He looked the same — same tired eyes, same determined jaw. The same Oliver, and yet... not.

He didn’t approach. Didn’t wave. Just stared for a moment too long before boarding the train.

And that was it.

That's how the first couple of weeks of school went. Your mutual friends noticed it immediately, how you avoided each other, refused to speak, refused to be friends. You sat through lessons, avoiding even looking at each other from across a classroom.

Oliver threw himself into quidditch the moment it started, burying himself in the only thing he'd known besides you.

Gryffindor’s first win of the season had the common room buzzing, students spilling in from every direction with sweets, music, and alcohol. You hadn’t planned on staying long, but your friends had insisted, dragging you into the crowd with promises of a good time and better company.

This party was only for 6th and 7th years. Only for the people that could keep quiet about it.

Oliver, on a winning high, sat in the back of the room on the couch, his friends surrounding him. You didn't even look, though you heard his thick accent and booming voice. Him and his friends laughed, drinks in their hands. He was finally happy for a moment. For one little moment.

Your refusal to look at him wasn't the same on the other end. His eyes zeroed in on you as soon as you'd gotten tipsy enough to come out into the open, not stand in the corner. You wore a skirt, a red mesh crop top, signifying Gryffindor. Your hair was messy. You were evidently buzzed, hanging off from Lavender Brown's arm and laughing lazily.

You were beautiful. As beautiful as the moment he saw you. The moment was almost blissful, a chance to look at you without a returning glare or a tense realization that you were being watched. He'd missed looking at you. He felt a warm buzz travel through his body as his hazel eyes softened.

Until the moment was ruined. He'd finally seen what you and Lav were laughing at.

A tall Hufflepuff boy, clearly streamlining lame jokes into you and your friend's ears, trying to impress. Oliver's blood went cold, his jaw clenching. George was the first to notice.

"Wood, mate. Easy."

But Oliver wasn't listening. He'd always been hot-blooded, easy to frustrate. But this? This was something new. Something he'd never experienced.

He couldn't listen. Not when the Hufflepuff twat had the nerve to lean closer to you, elbow brushing yours like he had any right.

"She's laughin'," He muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing and grip tightening on his cup. "She's actually bloody laughin'."

"Because she's drunk," George reminded, with Fred placing a hand on Oliver's shoulder to reinforce him. "Not because she's interested."

Oliver's glare heated up as the Hufflepuff boy nudged your shoulder playfully.

"Aye, well, drunk or not, that's my girl he's tryna pull."

Fred gave him a look. “Ex-girl.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Oliver snapped, his voice sharp, too sharp. “I ken what I said.”

He didn’t mean to stand up. Didn’t mean to slam his cup down so hard it sloshed onto the floor. He didn't mean to wrench both of the twins' hands off from his arms, strength doubled by how upset he was. But he was already up, the noise of the party falling away beneath the pounding in his ears. Fortunately, Fred and George followed, trailed by Harry too.

You didn’t see him coming.

Not until he was there, towering behind the Hufflepuff with a scowl that could curdle milk.

“Oi,” Oliver barked, accent thick and venom-laced. “Ye lost, mate? Thought the badgers burrowed down in the dungeons.”

The boy turned, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Er—what?”

“She’s not interested,” Oliver growled. “So why don’t ye take yer shite jokes and piss off before I throw ye out meself?”

The Hufflepuff blinked, confused, glancing between you and Oliver. You looked equally stunned.

“I was just—"

“Flirtin’. Aye. I saw. Now jog on.”

Your jaw dropped. You’d never seen Oliver so mad, so confrontational. It just wasn’t him. He was civil — not afraid to call someone out on their shit, but civil. This.. This was just plain old aggression.

There was a beat of silence before the boy muttered something to himself and, stupidly, decided to be brave. Clearly he didn’t know Oliver as well as the rest of Hogwarts did. He puffed up, turning his face straight to Oliver’s and said six words, six dangerous words:

“Why don’t ya make me, Wood?”

The room froze. Even the music seemed to stutter, as if the castle itself knew what was about to happen.

Fred and George stiffened. Harry cursed under his breath.

Oliver’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles already white.

“Ye sure about that?” he growled, stepping forward until there was barely an inch between them. “Cause I’ve had a shite week, my tolerance for gobshites is sittin’ real low, and I’ve not thrown a punch in a while.”

You begged in your head for the boy to stop. This Hufflepuff must’ve been foolish, absolutely brainless. The strongest, most decorated, most known quidditch player in school, recognized for brute strength and temper, recognized for you, and he still has the nerve to push on. You didn’t know if he was brainless, like you’d thought before, or brave.

“Oh, I’m sure,” the boy asserted, almost nose to nose with Wood. “I’m certain. You might scare every other git in this school away from a pretty girl, but ya don’t scare me.”

Oh, bloody hell. You nearly winced.

You could feel the shift in Oliver’s body before he moved. Like a storm right before it breaks—quiet, charged, dangerous.

Fred muttered, “Right, well, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week.”

George followed with, “Poor bloke’s gonna get launched into next Tuesday.”

Oliver’s jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring. His voice, when it came, was low. Controlled. That was worse.

“Ye’ve got guts, I’ll give ye that. Shame you’ll be wearin’ them if you open that mouth again.”

And then—he lunged.

You barely had time to react before the twins were moving, Fred hooking an arm around Oliver’s chest while George stepped between him and the Hufflepuff, arms raised.

“Woah, WOAH, alright! That’s enough!”

“Oliver, mate, c’mon,” Harry grunted, trying to grab his other arm. “Don’t punch this lad at a party, yeah? Save it for the pitch.”

But Oliver’s eyes never left the Hufflepuff. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like a caged dragon just barely kept at bay. The muscles in his arms were taut beneath Fred’s hold, his fists still clenched like they could fly at any second.

“He thinks he’s brave,” Oliver snapped, voice rough and shaking. “But he’s disrespectful. Sayin’ I scare the rest o’ the school? Sayin’ I don’t scare him? I’ll show—”

“Enough!” You finally snap, your eyes narrowed. “Enough, Oliver.”

His eyes softened, but hardened yet again. Fred and George’s arms tightened around him, like a vice.

“What the hell are ye playin’ at?” he snapped, glaring down at you. “Paradin’ around like—like that, lettin’ some idiot make eyes at ye like I’m not standin’ right fuckin’ here?”

Your eyes widened, and then narrowed just as quickly.

“Excuse me?” you said, voice low and dangerous. “I’m not ‘parading’ anything, Oliver.”

“You are,” he hissed. “You bloody are. You ken what yer wearin’? What yer doin’?”

“What I’m doing is moving on,” you spat, stepping toward him now, flushed with drink and fury. “Isn’t that what you wanted? You, your broomstick, and your bloody dreams?”

That hit. Hard. You saw it in his face—the way his jaw flexed and his eyes flickered with something raw.

“I didn’t want this,” he bit out. “I didn’t want you makin’ me feel like this. D’ye ken how hard it is, watchin’ ye pretend I never meant a thing?”

The room around you had gone quieter now, the music thumping faintly behind the tension. Eyes were starting to linger.

“Oliver,” you warned, heart racing. “Don’t do this here.”

“Why not?” he said, voice breaking just slightly. “Ye don’t want me anymore, fine. But don’t stand there actin’ like I was nothin’ to ye.”

Your breath caught. Everything fell away—the party, the Hufflepuff, the gaping onlookers. Just you and Oliver and the aching history between you.

“C’mon,” Fred said, tugging at his arm, sensing the shift. “Let’s go cool off before McGonagall shows up and gives us detention ‘til Christmas.

Oliver didn’t move.

His jaw flexed like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Not to you. Not to anyone.

With one last searing glare at the Hufflepuff—who had the good sense to take a step back this time—Oliver turned on his heel.

“Fuck this.”

The words were quiet, half-muttered, but they carried enough venom to make a few nearby students shrink away. He shouldered past a cluster of seventh years, shoving open the portrait hole so hard it nearly bounced back into Harry’s face.

Fred and George exchanged a look, then quickly followed.

“This is gonna be fun,” Fred mumbled sarcastically.

“Aye,” George sighed. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t punch a wall this time.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, offering you an apologetic glance before trailing after them, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, surrounded by the aftermath.

The room buzzed with murmurs, but no one dared say anything too loud. The tension Oliver had left behind clung to the air like smoke.

And you?

You just stood there, Lavender hovering at your side, one hand lightly gripping your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked, softer than usual.

You nodded absently, eyes still on the portrait hole. But your mind was miles away—storming off down the corridor with Oliver.

Because that wasn’t nothing. That wasn’t casual jealousy. That was a boy who still had something burning deep inside him.

And Merlin help you, you felt the same fire.

[duskspring]

A Picnic and Magic - Ghouls&Human Children

Domestic December- Day 19

Summary: The Clergy hosts a picnic to teach its children about the ghouls

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): No dialogue, they/them AND chronically ill Zephyr

Word count: ~1.2k

The Ministry saw a lot of new faces each year. Yes, most new recruits came with the success of the Ghost Project, but there was also a portion of children being born into it by Siblings of Sin. And although some new parents chose to leave the abbey after birth, others wanted their kids to grow up there.

The grounds housed a second, smaller building for families, one where children wouldn’t be exposed to some of the more egregious sinning by accident and where they could attend various classes.

Raising those kids at the ministry did come with a few challenges, mainly their understanding of the ghouls. At first, most kids either didn’t understand or flat out feared them. Thus, the upper clergy had to come up with a solution.

The plan was simple, on one particular warm summer day there would be a picnic for all to attend, where the ghouls would get a chance to interact with the children and try to win them over with the use of their powers.

Although not everyone got to attend. More stoic, quick tempered or sensitive ghouls had been kindly asked to not show up. At least not on that day, but maybe next time. The kids had to be eased into it, you see. Most of them didn’t complain, not minding the lack of responsibility towards the most frail individuals.

Another hurdle came with their masks. A real discussion was raised of if the children would be more afraid of the masks or their glamoured forms. Eventually it was decided into a split, where if there was more than one ghoul representing an element, one of them would be wearing their mask.

Different parts of the grass field were dedicated to said elements. Children were encouraged to visit them all by means of offering a variety of foods and games at each section, as well as a showcase of the ghouls’ powers of course. For every ghoul there was a sign with some basic facts about them, to humanize them further in the eyes of the kids.

At the water section it was just Rain. Although six more (partially) water ghouls walked the ministry halls, all had been deemed either too scary or too… Dewdrop. Still, he was excited to show off a bit, and most of his fellow ghouls came to stand with him from time to time. Especially Ifrit who also stood alone.

He was mostly in charge of keeping everyone cool by, when given permission, summoning splashes of water to spray people with. He did so mostly by conjuring it from his index fingers while he held his hands in gun gestures.

As stated, Ifrit was the second lonesome ghoul. Once again, the other fire ghouls were either too scary or too… Dewdrop.

He was acting like a firebreather, but mostly summoned shapes and letters of fire in the air, spelling out kids’ names, much to their amazement. Although he was the most directly dangerous, he made sure everyone stayed at a safe distance.

Omega and Aether worked together to represent the quintessence element. Phantom had been considered as well, since he mostly came across as harmless, but his packmates knew he would probably get overwhelmed very fast.

Quintessence was a hard element to show off physically, so they mostly helped hurt kids feel better or read their emotions, in an attempt to impress.

Omega was already more well known, helping out families from time to time and having been there for the delivery of most of the children. Many asked to hug him as a familiar, which he never minded. He’d accidentally turned into the posterghoul for all of them; someone friendly and approachable, who would help you out in times of need.

Mountain and Pebble showed off plants and flowers they’d helped grow and even summoned some brand new ones on the spot to hand out. Most children, however, only focused on giggling about their height difference. The smaller of the two was not at all amused at first, but got less annoyed at it throughout the day, while the other kept awkwardly trying to laugh it off.

And finally there was air. Zephyr, Cirrus and Cumulus had been easy picks, since they were already known among adults as nice and calm individuals. As part of the older generation of ghouls, the only missing air ghoul had always been less concerned with being family friendly, although Secondo did drill into his mind that he should try his best not to scare anyone. Still, it was best for him to sit this day out.

The present three worked together very carefully to raise some of the children a little bit off the ground. Their small feet dangled maybe a few inches high at most, but every last one was ecstatic. Most of them ran to their friends afterwards, telling anyone who would listen that they had just flyed.

There was no representation for multi ghouls that day. Copia had tried to explain to Swiss as kindly as possible that his smile would probably scare the kids more than comfort them. And Aurora still hadn’t properly adjusted to interacting with adults, let alone children.

As the day progressed, even some of the more cautious kids had at least admired the ghouls from afar. All parents were very supportive of them, encouraging them to approach the ghouls and telling them they were all friendly.

Every last ghoul had been popular with someone throughout the day. Some kids had jokingly retaliated against Rain by getting their own water guns and it turned into a whole game of him versus the children, where they would oh and ah when he managed to stop a spray midair.

Some other kids had discovered Ifrit’s functionality as a jungle gym, and were climbing up to his shoulders and hanging from his outstretched arms. All the while he stayed very still, treating it as a work out to try and keep them all up.

Omega had already been liked, but when it got time for the kids to go home that sentiment had spread to Aether as well. He’d probably be able to help out in the family infirmary from that point on as well, something he felt immense pride for.

Pebble ended up getting his hair braided by two little girls, summoning flowers Mountain suggested for them to weave through it.

Zephyr had gotten quite a few questions about their wheelchair in the blunt, frankly rude way that children asked questions about those sorts of things. They’d answered them in as simple terms as possible, kindly correcting anyone who had accidentally said something distasteful.

Cirrus and Cumulus had started singing a few songs throughout the day, getting a small choir of children together and helping them sound their best. A few of them asked to receive vocal lessons more often, and although Cirrus was a bit nervous about interacting with such young kids so much, Cumulus was nothing but excited to make it a reality.

Eventually the time came for everyone to go have dinner. The ghouls all got a lot of goodbye hugs, and although the day was a fun success, they were all glad to finally get a break again.

Needless to say, the picnic worked wonders, with the Clergy already trying to plan the next one.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[itsjustdg]

First Sentence Game

Tagged by @dragonnan

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Houndsight Is 20/20 (Hudson & Rex) Charlie sighed as he sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, which were starting to ache after staring at a computer screen for so long, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Nearby, Rex whined. Charlie moved his left hand to see the German Shepherd watching him from where the dog was lounging on his favorite window bench. Rex's dark eyes watched Charlie in concern, his head tilted to the side as if to ask what was wrong.

Call Off the Dogs (Hudson & Rex) It was a beautiful day in St. John's. The sun was shining, the sky was punctuated by a few fluffy clouds, and there was that fresh feeling in the air the world gets after a good rain. But the three men who were carefully ascending a large hill near the coast were less interested in the scenery surrounding them and more intent on the murderer they were after. Charlie flexed his hand where it rested on the grip of his holstered gun and looked around carefully. The open field around him spanned a few dozen yards before it ended at a treeline, where there was a very real chance the dense foliage hid something sinister.

Note to Self: Don't Get Kidnapped (Hudson & Rex) "Note to self," Charlie thought wryly, "don't get kidnapped." Of course, that was easy in theory. It was a lot harder in practice, especially when he was actively in the back of a van headed to who-knew-where. And he was alone, which made things infinitely worse. He couldn't count on Rex leaping out on their captors the minute one of them opened the door.

At the End of His Rope (Hudson & Rex) The clatter of a door being thrown open echoed through the musty old warehouse. "Look who I found nosing around outside!" Charlie winced in pain as his arm was wrenched upward. The tall criminal who'd grabbed him had at least six inches on the detective, and the man was using every one of those to his advantage as he dragged Charlie into the dim warehouse.

Hair’s Breadth from Death (Hudson & Rex) Feet pounded the gravel as Charlie raced after the retreating figure of the fleeing murderer. Rex was nowhere to be seen, but Charlie knew the shepherd would join him before long. They'd set out to track down the man they suspected of killing the victim in their current case, and Rex had run off after something he'd heard in the underbrush. Shortly after, Charlie had spotted Dunn, who had fled the moment he realized he'd been seen. Moments later, Dunn made a split decision and veered off the trail, cutting through the long grass next to it.

Nowhere to Run (Hudson & Rex) The smirk on the criminal's face was downright sadistic as he waved the large knife in Charlie's direction. "Nowhere to run now, eh, Detective?" From the room next to them, Charlie could hear Rex's frantic barking. He let out a growl of frustration as he turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "You think you're going to get away with this, Thompson?" he demanded, not bothering to temper the anger brewing in his voice. "Seems to me I already have," Thompson grinned. "Now get your hands back up!"

A Little Out of the Ordinary (Hudson & Rex) Charlie had seemed fine while they wrapped up the case, so no one thought there might be something wrong. He'd waved off any concern for his well-being, focused on wrapping up the case and getting the criminals put behind bars after his friends had pulled him out of that pine box in the dirt. But now he was home after an incredibly long ordeal, finally winding down from the adrenaline of everything that had happened, and his system finally had time to acknowledge just how much it had been through. "And that's how…" Jesse trailed off. "Charlie, you wanna sit down?"

Not All Superheroes Wear Capes (Chicago Fire x The Incredibles) A dull, distant roaring mixed with the sound of muffled voices filled Gallo's ears as he struggled to regain his bearings. What happened? He felt like there was something important that he should be aware of, but he was having trouble getting his thoughts to catch up to everything else. The shouts echoing around him finally separated enough for him to understand what was being said.

Dance With the Devil (Magnum PI) It was another bright, sunny afternoon in Honolulu. A rainstorm had passed through earlier in the day, but now the clouds had cleared. The only evidence of the bad weather was the rainbow painted across the blue sky. Anyone driving on one particular residential street that afternoon with their windows down would have been treated to good-natured, arguing voices coming from the Ferrari cruising down the road with its top down. The man behind the wheel was engaged in a spirited conversation with the woman in the passenger seat. "I'm telling you," the dark-haired driver was saying as he braked for a stop sign, "it's just simple math."

Psychics Are People, Two (Psych) Hello, everyone! It's me! I know what you're thinking: this website looks a whole lot like my other one. I assure you, however, that it is completely different. All the pictures on here are legitimately taken; I didn't hide behind any bushes. I also deleted the fanfic section. You might be asking yourself, 'Didn't you get put in prison two years ago?' or 'Did you ever get Detective Lassiter's blood out of your favorite dress?' or, my personal favorite, 'How did your therapy go?'

Tagging with absolutely no pressure as always: @disappearinginq, @amandagaelic, @cajun-fangirl, @vix-has-arrived, and anyone else who wants to play!

[asweetprologue]

tension in a touch

Octoberfest 5: Hover

People were afraid of Geralt.

As Geralt’s half-official barker, Jaskier was deeply aware of this. His main obstacle in improving Geralt’s reputation was not hate, despite what Geralt thought. The witcher didn’t discuss it much, but when people shied away from him, when their heart rates skyrocketed, when they cast him sideways glances, Geralt assumed it was because they despised what he was. A mutant, a freak of nature, a monster. And he was right, in many ways, but Jaskier thought Geralt sometimes didn’t quite understand why human beings hated things. Almost always it was because of fear, and Geralt made people nervous. Jaskier was there to comfort them, and then to rally them. It was a process. 

Unfortunately, as they began traveling together Jaskier realized that he was afraid of the witcher too. It wasn’t something he was proud of, and he hoped Geralt never picked up on it. Jaskier was drawn to the man anyways, of course. He’d been able to smell the adventure on him from across the tavern in Posada, literally. Dirt from the road, old blood rust and an air of tragedy clung to the man like a thick cloak. It had been a moment of clear and crystalized genius, when his eyes settled on Geralt. Jaskier had known that he would follow the witcher across the Continent even before he’d heard the man speak. 

But all his enthusiasm didn’t mean that Geralt stopped being intimidating as shit. Jaskier, fresh faced and still not used to the rough and tumble way of the world, was a little scared of him. Geralt was careful, always projecting his movements and making himself obvious, but something in Jaskier’s hindbrain still raised its hackles and screamed at him to run anytime Geralt was near. It was pure instinct, an animal recognition of a predator nearby. 

But it just wouldn’t do. If he was going to convince the world that Geralt deserved to be praised for his deeds, great as they were, he couldn’t be afraid of his own muse. So Jaskier decided that he would just do the exact opposite of whatever his instincts told him to do, until they learned to behave. 

He forced himself to be close to the witcher, all the time. At night when they settled down to sleep, Jaskier desperately wanted to put his bedroll on the other side of the fire. Instead, he plopped right down next to Geralt, receiving a brief glare that made him sweat. When they ate at taverns, Jaskier sat in Geralt’s space, instead of allowing the table to act as a barrier between them. After hunts, he made himself help wash off the worst of the muck and blood and ichor, at least so that people wouldn’t truly bolt at the first sight of Geralt down the street. 

Over time, he found that his palms sweat less, his fingers were steadier, and his heart stayed calm in his chest even when he was pressed shoulder to shoulder with the witcher. Geralt was often snappy, peevish and foul tempered, but he never hurt Jaskier after the first punch to the gut. And that was really on Jaskier for bringing up Blaviken. Generally speaking, Geralt was perhaps even overly cautious. He never returned Jaskier’s friendly gestures, carefully keeping distance between them as if he expected Jaskier to startle at every brush of their fingers. And he had, in the beginning. But slowly he felt himself grow less jumpy, a part of him learning to recognize that Geralt wasn’t going to harm him. 

It was fine, the neutral ground Jaskier had been searching for. Things might have stayed that way, if not for the cockatrice hunt. 

Jaskier had insisted on going along, as they were exceptionally rare creatures. He might never get the chance to watch Geralt fight another, he reasoned, and had worn Geralt down though a slow process of argumentation supplemented by a few strategically placed ales. Geralt had reluctantly agreed, warning Jaskier that he had to stay well away from the fight. 

They had both underestimated the beast. Jaskier got too close, he could admit; Geralt wasn’t paying him any mind, focused on dodging the creature’s massive tail and razor honed beak. It was a fascinating fight. The cockatrice was like a strange mix between a rooster and a lizard, its beady eyes watching Geralt intently as it used the ends of its hooked wings to claw into the ground. The fight was fast, almost too fast for Jaskier to follow. Geralt was like water, here one moment and gone the next, baiting the creature into reckless attacks and popping up somewhere else to hack at its flank. Occasionally the cockatrice would attempt to take off, and a concussive burst of aard would echo across the small field that they fought in, knocking it back towards the ground. 

Everything would have been fine, truly, if Jaskier hadn’t seen Geralt get knocked over by the cocktrice’s tail. He shouted in alarm from his place on the hill, far enough away not to draw attention to himself, if he’d kept his silence. The cockatrice, circling Geralt, looked up sharply at the sound, interested in a potentially less threatening meal. Milky eyes focused on him, and Jaskier felt panic pulse through his chest, so strong he wondered how he ever could have called his nervousness around Geralt fear at all. As the cockatrice turned to advance on him, he knew this was what real fear was. 

In that moment, Jaskier didn’t think. He didn’t do the smart thing, which would probably have been to run back towards the village and try to take shelter amongst the smattering of houses there. He didn’t do the cowardly thing, ducking down to try and hide where he was. Instead, he did the incredibly stupid thing, and ran towards Geralt. The cockatrice, being directly in his path, was probably thrilled. 

Jaskier ran faster than he ever had in his life. The cockatrice was barrelling towards him, and Jaskier took off at an angle, rushing down the small incline towards Geralt, who was already up from where he’d been knocked prone. Jaskier could see the moment that the situation caught up with him, Geralt’s eyes going wide and panicked as he realized the danger. Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen Geralt move above a light jog before. The man usually let monsters come to him, rather than the other way around, but he was running now. He was amazingly fast, and Jaskier wondered who was faster. Geralt, or the monster. 

The cockatrice had flown up, gaining some distance. Probably to dive down and catch him with some momentum. It gave Jaskier a precious extra moment, but he could sense the bird-like creature getting ready to move. Geralt was only feet away now, sword held in reverse as he sprinted towards him, and Jaskier’s lungs were burning with exertion and fear. The cockatrice let out a shriek above them, and Jaskier heard a rush of air past its wings as it dove towards them. 

Jaskier ducked. 

Geralt slammed into him almost at the same instant that the cockatrice did, throwing Jaskier bodily to the ground as a shimmering golden field sprung up around them both. The cockatrice slammed into it full force, its huge body impacting with a horrible cracking sound and spinning off to the side. Geralt winced at the force of it, the quen shield shattering apart harmlessly. He was curled protectively around Jaskier’s fallen form, one hand - the one that had been holding his sword, now abandoned - clutching the back of Jaskier’s head. Protecting him from hitting the ground when he fell. 

For one brief moment the two of them were still, Jaskier fighting to get his bearings as Geralt hovered above him. Their faces were inches apart, Geralt’s panting breath ghosting over Jaskier’s cheek. His palm was warm against the back of his neck, and his strong thighs bracketed Jaskier’s hips in a grounding press of limbs. Though the danger had not yet passed, Jaskier felt a sense of pure, undiluted relief wash over him. Geralt was here, and nothing could hurt him. 

It lasted only a second before Geralt was back on his feet, stalking over to the fallen cockatrice. The creature’s wing had been greviously injured in the fall, and it was no hardship for Geralt to dispatch it once he retrieved his sword. Jaskier sat up slowly, wincing at his newfound bruises. Better than a cockatrice talon in the back of his skull, he thought, but he’d still be sore in the morning. 

Geralt stomped back over to him as soon as he’d finished the job. “I told you to stay back,” he growled. His face was stormy, but Jaskier had seen his expression just before the cocktrice dove. It had been just as panicked as Jaskier had felt, a naked fear and determination that Jaskier had never seen on Geralt’s face in battle before. He’d been worried. He was worried still. “I never should have let you come,” he grumbled, kneeling. Warm hands pressed over Jaskier’s shoulders, his chest, working their way through his hair to check for injuries. Where once it might have made Jaskier nervous, now he only felt warmth blossom under his breastbone. 

Placing a hand over Geralt’s where it rest just under his collarbone, he said, “I’m alright, Geralt. I’m not hurt.”

Geralt glared at him. “Not for lack of trying, bard. What possessed you to shout at it like that?”

Jaskier blushed. He was winded from the sprint, heart still pounding away in his chest at how close he’d come to serious harm, so hopefully Geralt would attribute the flush to exertion. “I, ah. Saw you fall. I was afraid you’d been hurt.”

A strong eye roll was directed his way. Whoever said witchers couldn’t feel apparently didn’t recognize annoyance as an emotion, because Geralt was clearly experiencing it. “I would have been fine, Jaskier. You could have died.” His hand was still on Jaskier’s chest, over his slowing heart. Jaskier was supremely comforted by the touch, in a way that perhaps should have been concerning. 

He gave Geralt a look he hoped was sufficiently chagrined. “It does seem I owe you my life, witcher. I hope to be able to repay you.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t go shouting at any more cockatrices in the near future.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaskier said, and then added, “but I know you’d be there to rescue me if I did.” He gave Geralt a grin, to take a bit of the edge off of the statement. It was too much, he knew, too much trust to put in the witcher’s hands. 

He was rewarded with an embarrassed huff of breath, and was allowed to watch as Geralt’s ears turned just faintly red. It was amusing, but Jaskier knew deep down that it wasn’t a joke. From then on, Geralt would always mean safety to him.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Six

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Six

It was nightfall by now, and Elham, Kaz and Inej were following the Conductor to his supposed way across the Fold. Jesper was nowhere to be found, and Elham could only imagine what kind of trouble he had gotten to by this point in the night. The moonlight casted over them as they walked, the Conductor leading.

“We're almost there. Just a little further.”

Kaz fell back a bit, causing Elham and Inej to slow, matching his stride. He kept his voice hushed. “Where the hell is Jesper?”

“I should’ve gone with him. Have I ever been wrong? No. Do you ever listen to me? No. And here we are.”

Elham knew she was bold for speaking to Kaz like that, they might have been close, but he was still technically her boss, and more than that, she needed him focused on this job. Making him angry was never a good idea, but she just couldn’t help herself. It was too fun teasing him. She was the only one who could get away with it.

Kaz pretended like he couldn’t hear her, rolling his eyes, walking a little faster. He knew she was right, but he would never admit it. The Conductor approached a sign, barely lit up by his torch. He continued walking past it, but Inej stopped, putting her arm out in front of Elham.

“Landmines.”

Elham stopped, huffing. There was no point in being surprised, she knew this job was going to be the hardest one she ever went on. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t have a slight temper tantrum in Kaz’s direction though, it was just her luck that this would go bad from the beginning.

She almost risked following the Conductor, deciding to not care about the imminent death in the field, when Kaz put his cane out to stop her, giving her a glare. “We’ll wait. Follow the path that you carve.”

“Oh, that sign, it was my idea to keep people away. Can’t be too careful. We’re fine. Come.”

Elham glanced at them, sighing. Might as well. She took off, following the footsteps the Conductor had set, Inej hot on her trail. Kaz stood behind, looking for another way, before realizing there wasn’t one. He sighed, trying to corral the goat closer to him, before slowly following them.

The Fold was a wall, a giant black mass, with eerie groans and high pitched screeches coming from the inside. It was bigger than anything Elham could have imagined, and the pit in her stomach only grew. If nightfall was dark, the only light coming from the moon, she couldn’t imagine how dark and empty the inside of the Fold must be, a void.

Inej was warily glancing around. “It’s one thing hearing about it, but this is--”

“Nothing, compared to what lies within.”

Elham scoffed. “Thank you, Arken, very inspiring.”

The Crows watched Arken slowly crank a handle, watching a dingy train emerge from the edge of the Fold. “There. So, goat, jurda, thank you. Now we’re just waiting on…”

Gunshots emerged on the other side of the field, and Elham turned to see Jesper sprinting in their direction, a crowd of men right on his heels. “Wait for me!”

“They can’t see the train!” The Conductor took the torch from Inej, putting it out in the sand.

Kaz was growing angrier by the second. “Jesper! Get here now!”

“Put out the lantern.”

Elham pulled the pistol off her hip, advancing forward just enough to be able to aim at the men after Jesper. She only had two bullets, and then her gun would be useless. Without her sword, all she would have left is the knife strapped to her thigh. Still, Jesper had to get there, preferably not full of bullet holes.

She began picking off the two closest to him, one bullet missing, hitting the sign next to him, the other lodging itself into another man's thigh. He crumpled to the floor with a cry. “Damn it, Jesper! Hurry the fuck up, I’m out of bullets!”

She dropped the gun, pulling out the knife, ready to use it if she had to. Jesper had stopped now, reading the landmines sign. He picked his pace back up when another gunshot flew over his head. “Oh, wait for me! Don’t you go without me! Wait!”

Elham turned, pulling herself up onto the train, grabbing Jesper’s arm and pulling him in when he got close enough, falling back into one of the seats. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

The men were still advancing, and Inej began pulling the door shut, checking to make sure everything was secure. Elham had stood now, grabbing the sack off Jesper’s shoulder handing it to Arken.

“Please tell me this is 20 pounds of alabaster coal.”

Jesper turned to them. “Slight snag in the plan. Turns out that the kid who was helping me buy the coal, didn’t exactly know how to, uh, buy coal.”

Kaz nodded, unamused. “We know you gambled it away.”

“I lost a little bit of the money...ok I lost all of the money, but I managed to steal twenty pounds of alabaster coal.”

The Conductor looked over the bag. “No, no, no, there’s sixteen pounds!”

Jesper corrected himself, smoothing down his jacket. “Sixteen pounds, of alabaster coal.”

Kaz looked like he was going to have a heart attack, and Elham was fighting herself to not say I told you so. “Can we do it on sixteen?”

“Never been done before?”

Gunshots hit the side of the train, and Arken moved Jesper, placing him into a seat. “Sit here. Never shift your weight.”

Inej slowly sank into a chair, and Kaz violently pulled off his jacket, before motioning to Elham to sit down. She took a seat next to him, and watched Arken pull up his sleeve, seeing cuts along his wrist, like tally marks. Saints, he had crossed that many times?

Inej, knife drawn, said a quick prayer. Elham took a deep breath, getting ready to think of some funny last words, when an explosion went off, followed by the sound of men screaming.

Kaz’s face grew cold. “I thought you said they weren’t real.”

“I said nothing of the sort. I just said I put the sign up myself.” The Conductor hit a few levers, and the train began moving. Kaz glared, leaning back in his seat, and Elham straightened up next to him, exasperatedly laughing. Could this be going any worse?

---

It had been a few minutes, and the train was barreling down, the Conductor checking his watch. The sound of metal clanging got everyone’s attention, and Jesper uneasily sat up. “What was that?”

“I’ve erected a system of timers along the line. Bits of metal hung on poles to keep me apprised of our pace.”

This piqued Kaz’s interest. “How did you know where to put the poles?”

“Physics and engineering account for most of my success. The rest is what we might call divine intervention, what others might call luck.”

Elham scoffed at that. “If there was any divine intervention, I’d be at the bottom of the harbour right now, Saint’s know I deserve it. But here I am, imminent death looming over me. Sounds like bad luck to me, eh Arken?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I do know that the Fold is thick with volcra, and the tracks are not complete. Coal, please?”

Jesper perked up at that, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, did you say the tracks weren't complete?”

“I said they aren’t complete. And stop moving.”

Elham turned to Kaz, for the first time in the night, feeling actual fear. If she was going to die back there, a gunshot wound, or landmine, then so be it. It would be kinder than anything Heleen had planned for her. But to be ripped apart by volcra, part of a mass grave in the Fold?

Kaz gave her a look, one that said to calm down, don’t lose it. Arken ignored it, telling him to put in more coal. They were running late.

Jesper fidgeted in his seat, panicking, “I'm sorry, can we get back to the bigger issue? We’re on tracks that don’t connect to other tracks?”

“Yes, there’s a gap, but--”

Kaz had lost all patience. “You said you could get us through.”

Jesper was still panicking, now exasperated. “How much of a gap?”

Arken fidgeted with the levers, pushing buttons, and the car lurched forward. “I built slats on the car. They roll into place under the wheels. The turbine generates enough wind to push us all the way to the eastern track. As long as we don’t shift our weight. Now, the noise may attract volcra, but it’s the only way across. There’s a nest nearby, but we’ll be fine. If they haven’t attacked us in--”

A volcra screech was heard in the distance.

“Well now we’ve got a problem.”

“Of fucking course. Because why would this go well? Why would anything be easy? Can’t have anything nice, can we?”

Kaz looked worried now, but he was probably the most calm of the group. “Elham, shut up, Jesper’s gonna go into cardiac arrest if you say things like that. Arken, how do you fight them off?”

“I outrun them, open the throttle and toss in all the coal, which works when there’s twenty pounds of it!”

Elham sucked in a breath. “Jesper, I love you, but if we make it out of this alive, I’m most definitely going to kill you. Sit still!”

The car was slammed into, and a horrifying screech was heard. A pool of blood began pouring in through one of the cracks in the ceiling. Arken looked out the window. “Damn it! The stupid thing impaled itself on the spike.”

Kaz spoke up. “We need to get it off, the others are going to stand on it!”

“More coal!”

“We’re down to fumes! We’ll never make it with this extra weight.” He tossed the bag into the flames, but it did little to the pace.

Jesper was sitting in his chair, staring off. “This is how we die?”

Arken didn’t even look up. “Jesper, grab the groat.”

“I’m not throwing out the goat!”

“Grab the damn goat! It’s not bait, it’s for you! I need you to calm down, hug the goat. Shut the hell up.”

Jesper picked up the goat and held it tight to his chest, Inej groaning and placing her head in her hands.

Another clang, signalling the pace, went off, and Arken paled. “We should have hit that twenty seconds ago. My timings are precise to get us outside. Even twenty seconds behind means the train stops inside the Fold, and that...that means we die. There’s more coming!”

More volcra stacked up on top of the train car, screeching, and Arken scurried back to his chair. “You may want to make your peace!”

Elham turned to Kaz, who was positively out of plans. Inej was praying, Jesper was clutching tightly to the goat.

This was it.

Kaz met her eyes, desperately trying to come up with something to say, something that would possibly be good enough for his last moments with his Crows, with his Valkyrie, when Jesper stood up, the goat still under his arm.

He had this sense of calm to him, face now determined. He stepped forward, heading to the front of the car, the Crows watching him. He suddenly pulled his pistols from their holsters, twirling them around in his hands, before firing up at the ceiling. Volcra screeched, blood spattered, Arken was cowering in the corner, but Jesper persisted, rotating pistols, firing away.

Their pace increased as more and more volcra fell away from the train car, and Jesper holstered his pistols.

Inej glanced around, who had been still in her seat the entire ride. “Are they all dead?”

There was a moment of silence, before a claw burst in through the ceiling, and a volcra’s head pushed its way in. Arken screamed, but Jesper just raised his pistol, chambering a round, and launched it into the volcra’s head. It screeched, before falling off the train as well.

The Crows sat in their seats, stunned faces, before another metal clang went off, signalling the timer again. Arken checked his watch, and suddenly, the inside of the train car was lit up.

They had made it out.

They skidded to a stop at the edge of the Fold. They slowly stood up, making their way out of the train car. Elham wiped at her face, hopping out, turning to Jesper. “I’ve reconsidered. I’m not going to kill you. But pull some shit like that again, and I swear I’ll--”

“Got it, got it. Won’t happen again, love.”

She scoffed at that, speeding up to catch up with Kaz, who was leading them into the city. She muttered to herself. “Yeah, Jesper, sure. And I’m the Queen of the Barrel.”

Kaz raised a brow, glancing at her next to him, before continuing on.

---

A/N - hi, here's another chapter. please check out the authors note chapter, i will be deleting it before i post the next chapter, but i wanted a little feedback. (if you're reading this on tumblr, i didn't post the authors note on here, i'm basically just asking for opinions, critiques, likes, dislikes, ideas, i just want to writ something you all would enjoy better.) feel free to contact me anytime, and thank you for the support!

[iliumheightnights]

The children are our future? | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Stark Reader

Summary:  (M/N) goes to surprise Peter and pick him up from school. While there a student tries to befriend him and (M/N) may or may not have lost his temper after realizing who it was.

A/N: I’ve been reading loads of fics about Peter and the field trip trope and like...maybe that’s coming… ;)

…

Peter tapped his pencil against the desktop repeatedly. It was obvious the school day was dragging on and he was ready to get out of there. He always wanted to get out of school early but even more so since he was supposed to be working with Tony in the lab today. Of course that would happen AFTER he saw his boyfriend, he always came first.

Peter was brought out of his boredom when he felt his spidey senses going off and no soon after something hit his head. It didn’t hurt and when he looked it was just a crumpled up piece of paper. He shouldn’t pick up that paper, everything in his body said to just ignore it. So he did, he ignored it. Then after a little bit another one hit him. Then another. Then another. He could tell it was Flash trying to mess with him and as much as he hated saying it, it was working. With one last paper ball Peter had enough.”WHAT!?” He glared at the boy who was only smirking at him. “MR.PARKER! What is going on?!” Peter felt his stomach drop. Oh he was in trouble. “I...I was-” “See me after class!” The whole class snickered and Flash smirked at him. Peter hated it here.

Peter stayed after class to get a talking to by the teacher. He was angry to say the least, Flash never got in trouble or anything. It should be him here not Peter. The teacher was going on about respect and not causing trouble, Peter really wasn’t listening if he was being honest.  After the rant Peter left the class to be greeted by Ned. “Hey, figured I’d wait for you. How’d it go in there?” Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing important. Just another person who won’t deal with Flash.” Ned nudged him. “At least you didn’t get like, detention or anything. We can deal with Flash another day.” Peter and Ned exited the front door of the school and heard whispers and talk. “Is that (M/N) Stark?” “What’s HE doing here?” Peter looked up and gulped. There he was, his boyfriend...looking absolutely annoyed with a starstruck Flash talking to him. “Or he’s gonna deal with him.”

…

(M/N) Stark leaned against the passenger side of the car. He was there on a mission, Peter had been acting strange for the past week and it was worrying him. He was so worried he got in contact with Ned, who after several minutes of questions, told him about Peter’s bully Flash. (M/N) would have dealt with it sooner had he any name other than a Fake name to go off of. He could have asked Ned but (M/N) had a better idea. 

Before Happy could even reach his car, the poor man was intercepted by (M/N). “Sup Happy. You out to get Peter? Well belay that order, I’m picking him up today. Go out and get yourself some lunch you deserve it.” Happy didn’t know what was happening but he watched as (M/N) got into one of Tony’s sports cars and drove out of the parking garage. That’s how he found himself outside of Midtown High.

(M/N) was scrolling on his phone waiting for his boyfriend to arrive. The school bell rang and students started walking out. He could hear people talking about him and it made him smirk. “Holy shit! You’re (M/N) Stark!”  (M/N) looked up to see a boy who looked like he was about to faint. “That’s me.” He didn’t say anything else as he returned to his phone. “What are you doing here? Never mind. You have a really cool car! I got a sick ride too! I can show it to ya if you want! Oh! Can I get a photo?” (M/N) let out a sigh. He didn’t want to be rude, but frankly this kid was getting on his nerves. “What’s your name kid?” “Eugene, Eugene Thompson. But you can call me-” He stopped as Peter and Ned came walking up. (M/N) smiled at his boyfriend who was smiling back at him. “Hey.” Peter said but was interrupted by Flash. “Hey Penis! Can’t you see the two of us are talking? Trying to make it seem like that Stark internship is a real thing?” Peter glanced to his boyfriend who was still smiling, but his eyes held the intent to murder. “I bet (M/N) here would just LOVE to hear about it. A loser like you wouldn’t even be able to go through the front doors!” Peter smirked at Flash. 

(M/N) started typing into his phone, still smiling. “You know what EUGENE. I would LOVE to hear about it. Why can’t Peter here walk through the front doors when he is one of the best interns my father has ever had?” Flash looked shocked while Peter was smirking, Ned looking somewhat lost and happy. (M/N) was still typing on his phone. “Also I should point out that the very boy you are insulting and calling penis is actually my boyfriend and if you know anything about me...I don’t take kindly to people who hurt the people that I love. And....done.” (M/N) looked back up from his phone to Flash. “You have now been blacklisted from every ivy league college on the eastern seaboard. You’re welcome. You’ll be lucky if even a community college accepts you here.”(M/N) held up his phone and took a photo of Flash’s red face. “What!? Y-You can’t do that!” (M/N) smirked. “I can. You know why? I’m (M/N) fucking Stark and you fucked with my boyfriend. You’re lucky that being blacklisted was all I did.” He stepped closer to the boy and tightly gripped his shoulder. “Because if I wasn’t so good about controlling my anger.” He let some of his powers slip through to let his eyes light up. “You wouldn’t live to see graduation. Now get out of here and don’t let me hear about you messing with Peter, his friends, or anyone else again.” Flash looked like he was on the verge of tears but nodded and ran away. Before he could get too far (M/N) stopped him. “Oh and Eugene! This isn’t over, I’ll be watching.”

With everything that went down it was no surprise that most of the students were staring at them. Some shocked still from the Stark boy being at their school, others for what he just did to Flash. They weren’t sure what he could really do to them so no one dared say anything or take videos. Turning to a blushing Peter, (M/N) smiled brightly at him. “Hey babe.” Peter smiled and looked embarrassingly at his feet. “Did you really have to do that?” (M/N) smirked at his boyfriend and held onto his shoulders. “Of course I did. He was a dick to you and annoying me. He made his bed now he gets to lay in it.” Peter was about to say something else but his boyfriend cut him off by pressing his lips to Peter’s. The sound of gasps and whispers could be heard, but neither of them cared. Pulling apart (M/N) opened the passenger door. “Shall we go? I’m sure dad’s already working in the lab.” He turned to Ned who was looking shocked beyond belief but also smiling broadly. “Thanks again for your help Ned. Much appreciated.” Ned nodded. “Anytime. See ya later Peter. Bye (M/N)!” 

Peter said his goodbye before sitting in the car. (M/N) got into the driver's seat and pulled away from the school. “Man...I really hate public school. You sure you don’t want dad to just...pull some strings and get you into M.I.T or something?” Peter chuckled at that and looked at him. “Yeah I’m sure, I’d miss Ned and MJ too much. Besides I have a feeling it’ll be alright now that you’ve dealt with Flash. Don’t think anyone else would want to get on your bad side.” (M/N) shook his head with a smile. “Good. They better not, otherwise I’ll come after them. I wonder if that twerps gonna go run to mommy and daddy. If he does...I’ll end them too.” Peter’s soft smile turned into a glare. “Don’t do anything that you’ll regret or that will be too...bad.” (M/N) huffed a laugh. “TOO BAD!? What are you five? Don’t worry it’s not like I’ll ruin their lives...just make it a little more difficult.” Peter put his face in his hands but smirked. “Sometimes I worry about you.”

“You love me.”

“Maybe TOO much.”

…

The rest of the drive had been pretty uneventful. Just small talk about what each other's day had been like. Peter had made sure to leave out the part about Flash getting him in trouble, if he told his boyfriend that he’d ruin his life even more than he already had. When they had arrived at the tower Peter wanted to do nothing more than to lay down with his boyfriend but Tony wanted his help in the lab.

“So I heard my son single handedly ruined a kid's life today.” Peter blushed at Tony’s words and focused on the project in front of him. “Ugh..k-kind of. I can try talking to him to undo it.” He heard Tony scoff. “Don’t you dare. That kid deserves it and plus...you honestly think we’d be able to get (M/N) to undo it?” Peter laughed along with Tony, at least he didn’t seem mad about it. “The question is kid...why didn’t you tell us? We would have done something a lot sooner and maybe less...intense.” Peter didn’t know what to say. He had wanted to tell them about everything but also didn’t want to at the same time. “Well, I DID want to tell you. I just...didn’t want to bother either of you. I just thought it was something I’d be able to deal with on my own. Figured it wasn’t that important.” Peter shrugged but felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder and he was soon facing his mentor/future father inlaw. “Peter. We both love you. Anything that deals with you is important to us. We want to make sure that you’re okay and living your best life. Asshats like that try and get off on pushing people around thinking they can get away with it. Now he won’t do it to you or anyone else again. Please, if something like this happens again tell us. We’re here for you.” Peter let out a sigh and felt tears building up in his eyes. “Thanks Mr.Stark.” Tony pulled him into a hug. “Anytime underoos. Now...Put away your tools and stuff. I’m sure my kid’s anxiously waiting for you upstairs.” Peter pulled back from the hug and began putting everything away. Tony going back to his own project. Peter was heading out of the lab when Tony called out again. “Also if you two get heated just make sure to wear protection!” Peter blushed. “Mr-Mr.Stark!” Tony waved him off. “Kidding! Kidding! Now go on!”

Peter walked to the common room where (M/N) was laying on the couch watching tv, when he saw Peter he smiled. “Hey. You’re done early.” Peter walked over and sat beside him. “Yeah. Your dad let me out.” Peter leaned his head on his boyfriends shoulder as the others arm pulled him closer. “Doesn’t sound like my dad. Maybe he’s an imposter.” Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. “Did you really black list him from every college?” (M/N) scoffed. “Peter I’m not that cruel. I believe people can have redemption. But I DID block him from the good ones on the eastern side of the us. He can still go to community colleges or to good schools on the other side of the country. It’s not like he’s out of options.” Seeing his boyfriend's face he sighed. “Ugh. If you feel that’s too harsh I’ll undo it. But I think it’s the push he needed to understand.” Peter smiled at him. “I love you.” (M/N)’s breath hitched. “What? I mean I love you too but...how did that come about?” Peter blushed and kissed his cheek. “Because even though he was incredibly rude to me you still were willing to undo it for me. Which I don’t want you to. He’s rich, or at least well off, I’m sure he’ll be able to go across the country. And you’re right, he needs to learn...plus maybe I’m a little salty about the years of bullying he’s done.”

(M/N) leaned in, smiling at Peter. He cupped his face in his hands. “Honey. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I gotta say you’ve pretty much ruined me.” The two boys laughed at each other. “I’ve been told I’ve had that effect on people.” Peter leaned in and brushed his lips against (M/N)’s, who leaned deeper into the kiss. After a while the two separated and laid down together. “So...what are we going to watch?” “Have you seen clone wars?”

“Duh.”

An hour later Tony would walk in to find the two boys passed out on top of each other. Quietly he pulled out his phone and took a photo. “Nerds. But they’re my nerds.”

[marjansmarwani]

It feels like an out of body experience

2k || ao3

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” --- Just a missing 2x12 scene of the moment after Owen realized TK and Carlos were in danger and what follows. Featuring an in-depth look at his guilt because why else do I ever write Owen Strand anymore?

This has been sitting mostly done on my google drive since May and I finally decided to finish it today, for some reason so I hope you’re all in the mood for some angsty Owen content. 

Beta’d by my loves @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon

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

“You thought he was talking to you?” Billy asked with a snort. “I thought he was talking to Reyes.” 

Judd let out a laugh beside him and Owen rolled his eyes, picking up his glass to take another sip of the whiskey. He rolled Billy’s words around in his head as he twirled the glass, watching as the whiskey sloshed around the sides. The thought came suddenly and hit him with all the force of a steam engine. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he said quietly, pulling Judd’s attention to him. He could see the other man frowning but he ignored him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner; he couldn’t believe it hadn’t been his first thought. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated louder, now pulling the eyes of all the others to him as well. Tommy sat up straighter as she clocked the fear in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” she asked evenly, using her steady, tempered captain’s voice that he had heard so often on patients in the field. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” 

His words hung in the air for a moment as they all processed and began to connect the dots. Owen set down his glass as they did, his hands were shaking too much to hold it. He was already reaching into his pocket for his phone when Judd’s expression cleared and he let out a curse as he figured out what Owen was implying, but he didn’t have the focus to see anything but the phone in his hands. 

Billy still hadn’t figured it out though so Owen spelled it out for him as the phone now clutched to his ear rang: “Our sons. He meant our sons, who live together. He meant TK and Carlos. He rigged their house to burn too.” 

There were horrified looks all around now but Owen couldn’t focus on them. The fear coursing through his veins was too all-consuming; there wasn’t room for anything else. 

The ringing stopped and for a split second, Owen thought that maybe, just maybe he was in luck, that TK had finally answered. But his voicemail answered instead at the tail end of the moment and Owen could feel some of the hope he had managed to cling to slip away. 

The others were watching him intently and he knew that the fear was written all over his face. Grace was the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. 

“You all need to go.” 

They all turned to her and Judd opened his mouth but she shook her head, “Those boys need you. With the 126 closed, there isn’t a house close enough to get to them in time. But you’re close here. I’ll call it in to dispatch, and pray a whole lot.” 

Owen nodded, already standing with Judd on his heels. The younger man paused for all of a moment, turning back to his wife who only shook her head. 

“TK and Carlos need you right now Judd, I’ll be fine. Just be careful, and call me when you’re done.”

Judd nodded and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss, “I love you, Gracie.” 

“I love you too, now go!” 

Owen didn’t need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door before Grace even finished speaking. He jumped into his truck and was momentarily surprised when the passenger door swung open beside him. He turned, hand frozen over the ignition to see Billy climbing in beside him. The other man took a look at him and scoffed. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, New York? We’ve gotta go.” 

So Owen started the truck and sped away from the curb because Billy was right. TK was in danger and nothing else mattered. 

He pressed the speed limit the entire way from the Ryder’s house to the condo. It wasn’t far and Owen was making excellent time as it was, but that fact did nothing to quell the racing of his heart. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. What kind of father was he that when he was told that someone was going to take what was most important to him and he didn’t immediately think of his son? 

If they were too late and the worst did happen, how did he live with himself?

Billy had the scanner app running beside him, and the sound of his son’s address being relayed by dispatch sent an entirely different chill through him. It made it real, hearing the words outside of his own head. All the while his phone rang between them until TK’s voicemail picked up again and Owen swore. He took a breath and tried to let logic in. Maybe Raymond was just trying to scare them; rigging two places to burn might have taken more time than he had. Maybe they weren’t home, maybe they had decided to go out after everything that had happened today. Maybe they had been able to get out at the first signs — TK had been a firefighter, after all. He would have noticed, he would have known how to safely get them both out. He...

His conjecture broke off sharply as they finally reached their destination and Owen suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. 

There were flames already eating through the first story, their ominous glow cutting through the night. Owen knew in his gut he had been right but seeing it stoked an entirely new fear within him. TK was in there. Carlos was in there. He needed to get them out. 

He moved towards the structure but suddenly there were hands on him, pulling him back. He rounded on the hands holding him, ready to fight back only to be met with Judd’s unimpressed gaze. 

“Running in there half-cocked and getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help them,” he told him, pressing an AFD t-shirt into his hands. “Cover up your face and let me grab the extinguishers, then we’ll go in.”

Owen followed his instructions without much thought, his shaking hands moving on autopilot to fasten the shirt around his face. His gaze never left the flaming structure before him, his chest aching with the knowledge that his son was trapped in there. It wasn’t long before a fire extinguisher was pressed into his hand by Judd, but it felt like an eternity as he watched the flames grow ever higher. He felt as if he were in those flames himself, the fear and guilt eating away inside of him with every passing breath that he got to take that his son might not.  

And then they were moving, bursting through the front door and attacking the flames with their extinguishers. Owen barely took a moment to survey the downstairs — to see the familiar living space charred and destroyed — before he led the way up the stairs to the bedroom, Billy on his heels. The sound of breaking glass had him running faster and he burst through the door to feel his heart jump into his throat at the sight of Carlos preparing himself to jump out of a second-floor window, TK a step behind him.

He shouted at them to follow him as Billy did his best to quell the flames that threatened to stop them. But Owen knew they wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be deterred. Now that he had the boys in his sight, he wasn’t about to leave here without them; no matter what. 

They both turned and looked at him in shock and he can only imagine how little sense this all must make. But then TK was pulling Carlos towards them and then they were out of the room and down the stairs 

He noted the hand that TK kept on Carlos as he stepped in front of them and wondered how much of it was his training and how much of it was the need to know that he was still with him. It was an instinct he understood, as he led the way and did his best to clear their path with the one fire extinguisher he had. He could hear them behind him but he was almost afraid to turn around, as if somehow if he looked back they would be gone; a modern-day Orpheus giving into his doubt and losing it all. So he focused instead on the flames, on finding the next step. On the way forward. 

His mind had almost started to wander again — pondering the terrors and what-ifs even now — but a piece of the ceiling falling to the ground before him interrupted that spiral, wrenching him back to reality. Being surrounded by fire on all sides without a stitch of gear was unlike anything else and he bit back a cry as some of the smoldering debris landed on his arm. But he pushed on because TK and Carlos were behind him and that was all that mattered. He could weather any amount of pain as long as the boys were safe. 

Finally, they burst through what remained of the front door, and before he even paused to take a breath he turned on his heel to make sure that they were behind him, that he hadn’t failed even more than he already had. 

But there they were, hunched over on their front lawn; taking heaving breaths of fresh air and coughing out the remnants of smoke still trapped in their lungs. 

Distantly Owen heard the sound of footsteps behind him and Tommy ran to join them and of shouts as Judd and Billy spilled out of the front door. Tommy gave him a quick look before making a beeline for the boys, reaching out for TK who shook his head and nodded towards Carlos. Her expression softened ever so slightly as she reached out a hand for Carlos, guiding him (and therefore TK too) further away from the flames still eating through the darkness of the night sky. 

Owen watched them go as Judd appeared at his side, following his gaze before glancing down at Owen’s sleeve. 

“Those could be some nasty burns, Cap,” he observed. “You should get those checked out.”

Even as he said the words the 129 was piling out of their truck and the captain was calling out orders. Owen watched them go but knew with a sinking heart that the damage had already been done in so many ways. He shook his head at Judd a moment later, “They’ll keep.” 

Judd opened his mouth to argue but trailed off when he followed Owen’s gaze back to where TK and Carlos were now getting checked out by the paramedics, Tommy hovering at the edge. His expression turned sad at the sight of Carlos hunched over and TK wrapped around him, running a soothing hand up and down his arm even as his mouth moved in what were likely soft reassurances. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me Judd?” he heard himself ask, and he wasn’t surprised when the other man looked at him sharply. 

“Who?” he asked, “TK?” He started to speak but then stopped as he glanced back over his shoulder at the home that was crumbling to soggy ashes behind them. His eyes turned back to the couple currently seeking solace in each other in the back of an ambulance before he sighed: “Yeah, he will. He’s good like that. It’s just gonna take some time.” 

Owen nodded his agreement but kept his mouth shut so what he was really thinking didn’t slip through. Maybe, he thought, forgiveness isn’t even what he is looking for. Forgiving could be easy and TK had perfected the art over the course of his life. He knew his son loved him, but love didn’t always mean the same as trust. Trust was something else entirely and Owen couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before his son ever put his trust in him again. 

[thosewickedlovelies]

we could be Dreamers - Prologue

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Summary: How this world came to be

Word count: 1,671

A/N: Hiii friends 🤗 soo there’s not really a lot of plot or Marcus Moreno :( here, but consider this a prologue/worldbuilding for a Marcus Moreno x reader fic I may eventually write lol. I’m really interested in how this universe got from The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl to We Can Be Heroes, because like. Sharkboy and Lavagirl were literally just some kid’s imaginary friends that somehow magically became real, so what does that mean for the other Heroics? Where did they come from?? So I kinda wanted to write something that would make you Think :) and explore the ramifications of such a transformed universe.

Consider my previous Marcus Moreno fic a prelude to this prologue 💗

--

It was a little unnerving sometimes, being in a room with so much power. No matter that this particular training arena at Heroics Headquarters was at least the size of an American football field- when all of the Heroics are gathered in the same confined space, focused on a single purpose, you can feel it. Like their power prances tauntingly in the corner of your eye, slipping away when you try to look directly at it. Like it winds through the air, worming its way into your veins, so your very blood breathes at you to run, run, run.

Not all of the individual Heroics gave off such uncanny vibes; some were simply ordinary people with extraordinary abilities. Techo-No, for instance, and his gift for creating fantastical gadgets. The implications of his works relevant to the world at large could be worrying, but he had limits. He was just a man. Determined, and creative (even more so with his son throwing ideas at him), but ultimately human.

Not like those with powers who’d been Dreamed.

Take Sharkboy. The temper for which he’d been infamous in his youth had cooled, but when he snapped, he did so literally- blade-sharp teeth an audible clash when he bared them in a ringing snarl. Any water in the room would roil and froth- but the most hair-raising sight was his eyes, tinged with the unreadable, abyssal blackness of his namesake. Focused with a predator’s calculation on the object of his fury. (It made you think that, ironically, his temper had cooled too much- concentrated into something as icy and merciless as the depths of the sea. Just as well his wife was a lava goddess).

It was well-documented that Sharkboy could influence his oceanic kin, seeing as he was half-shark himself. Some marine biologists postulated- in low voices- that fluctuation in his emotions could unknowingly influence shark activity no matter how far from the sea he was. But nobody at Heroics Headquarters had ever dared suggest attempting a study.

That you knew of, anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a classified government branch somewhere which dealt solely with more insidious studies of the Heroics. Their weaknesses. Ways to defeat them.

Just in case.

Sharkboy and his emotions had stabilized as his Dreamer matured, but not all Dreamers were so invested in the well-being of their creations, or of the world they inhabited and could inadvertently affect. It was suspected that not all Dreamers knew that they had Dreamed at all, that they unintentionally brought Dreams into being far from where they were located and simply never became aware. This resulted in some Dreamed individuals being...unstable. Incomplete, really. Brought forth from a child’s mind, a young person who didn’t yet fully grasp the complexities of existing in this world, or indeed, the intricacies of what made one human at all.

Dreamers were children, more often than not. Their imaginative abilities generally far outstripped those of adults, worn down as they were with the grind of building a real life. The younger the person, the more time and creativity they maintained. The fewer methods they possessed to process their struggles which were grounded in reality, and not their imaginations.

--

Despite the years that have passed, nobody quite knows what happened to lead up to the Incident. How a single young boy had imagined so powerfully that it had warped reality; how his imaginings had given him the ability to design the universe at will.

The Daydreamer.

Max, as he later insisted on being called. An almost disturbingly innocuous name for a boy who had changed the world. Who had all but envisioned himself into having terrific powers- and enabled others to do the same.

In the years following the Incident, Sharkboy and Lavagirl continued to visit him in secret (Later, scientists realized that this why they recorded occasional, inexplicable disturbances in seismic and marine activity). But it wasn’t long before a larger threat to the entire Earth appeared- and so did they. To defend the place which they declared to be their new home. Though they had been willed into existence to protect Planet Drool, as Max determined to relinquish his daydreaming abilities and by extension, his dreamworld, so did the planet and its life diminish. Their presence there was no longer required, they’d explained. But earth could still benefit from their protection- especially after the reality of the threat came to light.

Someone else had Dreamed.

It wasn’t clear who, or how, or what their intentions had been. But once it had been said, everyone was forced to acknowledge the truth of it- or at least, admit that there was no other explanation. The villain’s origins were not terrestrial in any previously established sense.

Anyone who had ever met a child could have a predicted it. Too many young people ended up feeling outcast, overlooked, by both their peers and adults in their lives. It should have been obvious from the way they whispered his name. Not Max- a moniker far too average and relatable- but what they reverently regarded as his true title. The Daydreamer. A near-holy figure who had changed the game for youths everywhere. Now they had a way to combat those who plagued them. A way to create or become the superheroes who previously only existed in comic books and TV shows.

Or some did, anyway. Individuals with the strength of will and heart to Dream weren’t rare, but they weren’t quite common, either.

The only truly neutral positive of the Dreamer evolution was that governments everywhere suddenly accepted the need for increased mental health resources. Designed to increase healthy socialization for all ages and give young people ways to process and communicate their emotional needs, such programs were approved seemingly overnight in schools from elementary to university aged. “Small town life” flourished, and many city quarters and apartment buildings took to implementing “community builders” or, less charmingly, “social facilitators”- positions designed to create cohesive areas of living and minimize the kind of isolation and negative feelings that could leave someone to Dream of improving their life.

--

Nowadays, not all super-powered individuals were Dreamed. The second generation of Heroics was a testament to that. As if the universe itself had reckoned with the self-inception of the Dreamers, and seen fit to provide reality-warping countermeasures of its own.

Less than a year after the Incident, babies with...unique qualities began to be born. Few and far between, it seemed at first. Whispered reports swept from far corners of the globe, a phone tree branching from frantic parents to anyone who could provide even the slightest bit of reassurance. It seemed like doctors everywhere were swapping glances, no one willing to admit what was happening- until a second Villain appeared.

Every incident report said the same thing: a baby started crying, and then the hostages were saved by a power outage. A wash of sparks that darkened half the city.

Webbed with red lightning.

You sneak a look at the fully grown Heroic now, the long braids of her ponytail slipping over the shoulder of her characteristic red training outfit. Red Lightning Fury flexes her fingers as she listens to the head trainer explain today’s exercise- the usual sort of ‘heroes versus villains’ battles, with you and your fellow specialists assisting as villains- but judging by the lack of the smell of ozone, she isn’t yet using her powers. Blinding Fast, on the other hand, appears to fritz in place every few seconds, and you guess he’s running invisible laps to pass the time. It’s hard to tell if that’s what’s causing Lavagirl’s hair to tendril like neon pink smoke even though she’s standing still; usually the hypnotic heat shimmer of her lava flow causes the effect naturally.

You stretch in place while team arrangements are announced. As the majority of the Heroics filter into the stands to wait for their match, the buzzing, writhing presence of their power fades, and you can breathe more easily.

A figure flickers into being beside you, and you jump. “Jeez, Visi! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Having anticipated your reaction from the countless previous times she’s snuck up on you anyway, Invisigirl laughs. “You think you’d be used to it by now.” Your closest Heroic friend grins at you, all pearly teeth against smooth brown skin.

And she’s right, which is why you were so disgruntled. Having been caught unawares too many times by the invisible hero’s silent movements, you had once asked her to give you lessons. Her instruction had improved your own stealth immensely, and now that you knew what kind of signs to listen for, her attempts at startling you didn’t work nearly as often as they had. But- “It’s hard to focus on anything with all of your powers clogging up the air,” you grumble. The birthed heroes understood what you meant- they felt it too, the nagging hiss of something other in the Dreamed heroes’ energy.

Across the arena, it looks like Miracle Guy and Marcus Moreno are waiting to be your opponents. Interesting. Miracle Guy, with his Dreamed up Superman-like abilities, was the only one who had a way of seeing Invisigirl. What it was precisely, you couldn’t recall. You make a mental note to ask Visi later.

Marcus, however, telekinesis aside, is clearly meant to be the counter to your strengths. The two men are discussing intently, but as if feeling your assessing stare, Marcus glances over. He lifts his eyebrows at you in playful challenge, a hint of a smile quirking his shapely lips before he’s pursing them at his duel-mate again.

Suppressing the pleased flutter down your spine, you turn your attention to the task ahead as Invisigirl dips her head toward you. Planning something clever, you realize, intrigued by the glint in her eye. “Let’s talk strategy.”

When the starting bell rings, your partner vanishes, and your smile curves as sharp and gleaming as the blade in your hand.

[glbertblyth]

AN: It’s been a long time shirbert fans... anybody still up for some fake-dating shenanigans? 

It was raining by the time Diana arrived—the sort of rainfall Anne might have basked in and even written a poem or two about if she’d had a mind for it. Instead, with Gilbert’s short visit still fresh in her mind, it only exacerbated her horrible mood.

Once out the door (slammed behind her, much to Marilla’s great woe), Anne threw her denim jacket overhead to avoid the inevitable ruination of the pretty outfit she’d decided on that day. The walk to the back door of her friend’s car was all it took to dampen her hair and muddy up her beloved white hightops. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what the state of her hair might be once dry again. The half hour she’d spent on taming the wild red lockes surely going down the drain with every squelching step she took. She shuddered to picture the disobedient strands frizzing and curling annoyingly around her shoulders.

“Anne!” was the first thing she heard when she opened the car door, her hands cold and clammy from grasping the freezing handle.  

It was Diana who had exclaimed it, smiling brightly from her spot in the driver’s seat. At its most brilliant sight, Anne’s sour mood nearly melted away - she did so love Diana’s smiles. So for a fleeting moment it was as if it were summer again and they were having one of their lovely days of sloth, with the sun vibrant on their skin as they lay in the fields behind Diana’s house watching the clouds slowly drift across the sky. No school to worry about or boys to try and decipher.

Then thunder rumbled and she was brought back to the present. Sitting wetly in the backseat of Diana’s car next to Jane and catching the very last few syllables of words mumbled from the front.

The brunette beside Anne reached across the gap in the seats to pinch Ruby, who squeaked indignantly.

“We brought coffee,” Diana went on, pulling out onto the road. The higher octave of her voice gave way to the obvious—she was being purposely breezy. Acting as if Anne hadn’t just opened the door and interrupted a conversation in which they had most definitely been talking about her. “I had them put an extra shot in yours because I know that’s the way you like it. Ruby? The coffee?”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she passed the drink to Anne. But she didn’t turn back around when it was in the red-head’s grasp, instead hovering there with an oddly expectant look on her face. A look, Anne realized, that was present on the other girl’s faces as well. Even Diana, big brown eyes wide like a doe’s in the rearview mirror.

“What?” she asked, pausing with her mouth halfway to the straw of her coffee and glancing around awkwardly.

When the only response was the low and torrid voice of Harry Styles drifting through the stereo and a raise of Jane’s eyebrows, Anne’s lips thinned in realization. The very word she had interrupted when she’d opened the door hadn’t been a word at all. It had been a name. Gilbert’s name.

Anne flopped her head back onto the cushioned seat, “Oh god,” she bemoaned. Could she not escape it for five minutes? Not even amongst her most beloved kindred spirits?

But there was nowhere to hide. Not with the three sets of eyes watching her so curiously. Waiting for her to give an explanation that she surely did not have. She was beginning to grow tired of Avonlea’s uncanny ability to spread gossip like wildfire.

“Watch the road,” Anne snapped at her best friend,  “or you’ll kill us all.”

Diana gasped and averted her gaze, focusing instead on navigating the road through the pelting rain.

“You can’t deny it happened,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all over everything.” Then she whipped out her phone, pulling up twitter as a way to prove her point.

“Don’t believe everything you read.” Anne snapped at her.

“So you’re saying it’s just a made up rumor?” asked Ruby, almost hopefully—because while Anne had despised Gilbert since the time she’d first laid eyes on him, Ruby had simply adored him. While Anne would spend every single valuable and precious minute of her English classes poking holes in Gilbert’s foolish arguments, Ruby was sitting not two seats away, mooning. It was exasperating.

“I’m just saying,” Anne folded her arms defensively across her chest, “there was a lot more to it than that.”

“So it happened?!” Ruby exclaimed, with such force she knocked her binder into Diana’s lap and almost spilled both of their drinks.

“Ruby!”

“Well I’m sorry but—this is—you can’t just act like this isn’t a big deal, Anne! He’s Gilbert! ”

“I’m well aware of who he is.”

“You hate him!”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she hated him. Of course. But it’s not as if she could tell the truth: that she had used Gilbert as a mere line of defense against dearest Diana’s cousin—her very own flesh and blood. Though how that was possible was beyond Anne considering he was so insufferably annoying, whereas Diana was so sweet and kind and considerate. She never would have pushed anyone the way that Roy had Anne. She never would have refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, never would have imposed so thoroughly on Anne’s personal space that she felt as if suddenly all of the oxygen in the world had run out except what was left in her lungs.

Hell, even Gilbert had taken Anne’s ‘no’ at face value. He had nodded and left, much to her great relief. And how terrible a concept to consider: Marilla inviting him to stay for breakfast! What would she have done then?

“Anne,” Jane poked her cheek. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Like hell she did. Maybe the decision to kiss Gilbert had been rash, but she wouldn’t have done it had she not felt as though she’d been forced into a corner. And while she did hate Gilbert’s guts, the mere aspect of her kissing him shouldn’t have been ground breaking news. He’d been there. She’d used him as a shield. That was it.

Even if the memory of his lips moving fervently against her own had haunted her dreams all night, it was nobody else's business. After all, he’d technically been her first real kiss. And even if she did think him an insufferable pompous ass, she wasn’t entirely incapable of admitting that he was a rather good-looking boy. She wasn’t blind for chrissake.

But even so, she had absolutely no intention of that little tidbit of information ever leaving the confines of her own mind. Nobody needed to know that she found Gilbert Blythe attractive. Or that she may have very mildly delighted in the fact that he’d been so quick to kiss her back. Or—or that she’d felt a bit of a thrill when she’d seen him again that very morning; a thrill that may or may not have caused her to even entertain the plan that he’d so eloquently presented to her.

The severity of the realization jolted her. Rose her blood levels to an alarming height. Had she just admitted to anticipating Gilbert’s presence?

“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you!” Anne exploded. Though she couldn’t tell if her anger was directed at her friends, at herself, or at the mere prospect of having anything but ill feelings toward her long time rival.  “What I do with my life is nobody’s business but my own! I don’t intrude on your private lives like this.”

Ruby shrunk back, but Jane wasn’t deterred. Everyone knew Anne had a terrible temper sometimes. When she yelled it was usually because she felt like she’d been backed into a corner and couldn’t see an escape besides pushing everyone else away.

“Sorry, Anne, but I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff. They don’t keep secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.” Anne grumbled. But she knew it was a weak argument. That her friend was right and that she had absolutely no excuse as to why she should keep the truth from them.

Because you’re actually considering Gilbert’s offer, a vexing voice said in her head,  And telling them you only did it as a way to escape Royal would ruin it. The voice only annoyed her more despite its truth.

Anne took a sip of her coffee with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any excuse to avoid talking on the subject further. Avoid meeting the tense stares of her friends.

“I don’t see why it would be such a big deal that you kissed him anyway. Half of our grade has been expecting you two to jump each other’s bones for years.” Jane shrugged nonchalantly.

Anne felt the large gulp lodge in her throat as she choked out a cough, “What?”  

Ruby craned her neck around to face her, baby blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Diana released a quiet titter of laughter but didn’t take her eyes off the road.

Traitor.

Jane rolled her eyes exasperatedly, briefly meeting the hurt look of their sensitive friend,  “Oh give up, Ruby. He’s known you his whole life and hasn’t made an attempt at you,” When Ruby faced the front again, lower lip jutted out in a pout, her dark gaze swiveled back to Anne’s, “ You , however, caught his attention from the moment you arrived.”

Anne flared her nostrils indignantly, “Not true.”

The girl next to her threw her hands up in frustration, “It is too!”

“Is not.”

“What are we, five?” Jane quipped. And then her face turned smug, “Besides, you guys did end up kissing, didn’t you?”

Jesus, it was a good thing they’d barely missed seeing Gilbert at green gables. Anne hated to think how insufferable her friends might have been had they known he’d stopped by that morning.

She let out a dramatic huff, placing her coffee in the cupholder between them and then crossing her arms to her chest. “Do you just believe everything that Josie Pye posts?”

Jane opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Ruby turned around in her seat again, “We don’t have to. You’ve been evasive enough to answer the question on if you kissed him or not for us.” She said with an adorable scrunch to her eyebrows. It was obvious she was stung but didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside of the car, mirroring Anne’s emotions perfectly. Oh, how she wished she were a storm cloud sometimes. Floating above it all, no care in the world. No expectations except for that of releasing their torrential rage on unsuspecting passers-by. Perhaps if that were her, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in such a messy situation.

She watched as the windshield wipers slapped at the front window, avoiding looking her friends in their eyes. “How far are we from the school?” she grumbled. Though it was certainly going to be a tough task in it’s own, it would be better than sitting under the excruciating scrutiny of the three girls she was trapped in the small car with.

Diana cleared her throat. “Just another block,” she said.

“If you want me to make sure Josie stays off your back today, I need to have the details.” Jane stated simply.

Anne ground her teeth at the annoying tenacity of her friend.  “There aren’t any.”

“There aren’t any? ”

“That’s what I said.”

“How could there possibly not be—“

“Jane!” Anne snapped, teeth gnashing out like that of a caged dog’s, “Just drop it!”

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Jane snapped her mouth shut. No other sound but the constant pattering of the rain against the windows and the quiet hum of the radio. In the rearview mirror, Diana exchanged a sympathetic look with Anne.

“Fine,” Jane said finally, a cool resolve in her brown eyes, “But just because you hate Gilbert doesn’t mean everyone else does. If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll just ask him.”

Anne stiffened—every muscle in her body pulling taut as she fought the urge to strike out with her constant weapon of choice: words.

Gilbert wouldn’t sell her out… would he? Not when he himself was riding on the possibility of a public relationship saving face.

God, would pretending to date him actually work? Could they even do it? Could she do it? Certainly he’d do something to piss her off. Something that would cause her to lash out and make it obvious that they were not, and would never actually be, in a relationship.

The thoughts tormented her as Diana pulled the car into the student parking lot. As she parked in her normal spot near the entrance. As she turned off the engine and they were swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. How fitting to see that Mother Nature bore such a pitiful mood—gray clouds swirling in the sky the very same way Anne’s feelings were swirling in her head.

As her friends giggled amongst themselves—already having moved on to the next subject of interest and opening their car doors—she took a shaking deep breath. Steeling herself against whatever the day might throw at her and clambering out of the car into sheets of cold rain.  

+++

When the lunch bell rang, releasing students from their third period classes, Anne’s relief was as palpable as a cool wave crashing against a hot sandy shore. She gathered her things hastily—stuffing them into her bag and barely zipping it back up before hurrying from her calculus class and out into the crowded hallway.

She had very little want of being left in the classroom with a certain tall, dark, and tousled boy. And since that was how things normally went—since Anne and Gilbert were usually the last two left in the classroom, quickly scrawling the last of their work out on the worksheets before them—her rush to leave the confines of the classroom wasn’t without warrant.

Not for the first time since being acquainted with Gilbert Blythe, Anne cursed the fact that they shared a fair amount of classes. (Or unfair if you’d asked her.) But this day… This day had taken her dislike to an entirely different level.

Or maybe dislike wasn’t the correct word for the churning she felt in her stomach every time she’d caught a glimpse of his disheveled dark curls across the room. Maybe awkwardness was the proper noun with which to describe the tension she felt pulled taut between them. If she could even assume it was a reciprocated tension in the first place, that is. She certainly felt it—choking the air around her like a thick and unwanted layer of dust. But… Gilbert hadn’t necessarily shown any discomfort at the sight of her. He’d backed off on making his usual snide comments or witty remarks, yes, but she wasn’t positive that it was because he was playing an angle or if he genuinely thought it better to leave her alone.  

Nevertheless, it made Anne’s gut twist uncomfortably. And because the whole school seemed to already know what had transpired the previous afternoon, she loathed to even look in his direction let alone exchange their usual haughty comments. She had, in not so many words, been avoiding him for the entirety of the school day—ducking out of shared classes with all the speed of a bulleting train and keeping her line of vision pinned straight ahead even when she felt his warm honey gaze settle on the side of her face.

This, of course, did not escape the notice of her ever so nosy classmates. In fact, the fervent silence between the two known rivals after such an unexpected public display of affection had only caused an even deeper upset among her peers. Anne liked to think she had learned to never underestimate the might of a small town’s grape vine, but she certainly hadn’t expected such… such backlash from one simple spontaneous moment in time.

To walk through the hallways of her familiar high school and notice the boisterous noise of groups dwindle around her felt much like her early days in Avonlea—except this time, instead of having smacked the town’s golden boy with a heavy textbook, she’d kissed him. And apparently that warranted an even more uproarious reaction.

Anne pushed through the crowd of students and scrambled to her locker—head down in an attempt to ignore the whispers around her. She’d thought that, after three and a half years, she had moved past the days of being an outcast; past the days of being a subject of interest on nearly every one of her classmate’s tongues.

Apparently she’d been wrong. All this time they’d only been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the precise moment she did anything out of the ordinary, so that they could pounce.

As she exchanged binders and textbooks with what had been stacked neatly in her locker, she was so thoroughly enveloped in her own vortex of thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the tall and skinny figure approach her.

“Anne,” the figure said. And despite the familiar trill of the voice, she startled, nearly slamming her fingers in the locker as she’d closed it.

“Dammit, Cole,” she hissed, but there was a smile beneath it.

She turned to her friend, a feeling of ease settling on her shoulders as it always had around Cole Mackenzie. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands wrung loosely around the straps of his backpack and his familiar blue eyes were warm with affection. After a moment, Anne realized there was a dark smudge just under his right eye—more than likely a result of wiping at his face after working with charcoal or graphite. A quick glance at his smeared hands confirmed just as much.

“You’ve got art on your face,” she said, gesturing at her own as a way to show him.

He released a breathy laugh before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it off. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner, I got caught up in class.”

Anne snorted despite herself. “Sure you did,” she said. “Keep acting like you weren’t flirting with that new exchange student.” She twisted her mouth into a feigned look of utter despair, “You left me to the wolves.”

Cole laughed as she schooled her features back to their normal, friendly state and swung her bag around her shoulder. She entwined her hand with his as they made their way in the direction of the cafeteria.

He fixed her with a faux imperious look. “I was only showing Gabriel the precise way of shading. Charcoal is a difficult medium to work with.”

“Don’t tell me,” Anne lowered her voice, acting as though what she was about to say was an absolute scandal, “You stood behind him and guided his hand with your own, heart pounding against his back as he leaned into you.” She caught at her chest with her free hand, “Oh, how romantic! ” she squealed, much louder than she’d meant to. A few students looked in their direction.

An exasperated laugh burst from her friend’s lips and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Not so loud, Anne.”

She shrugged. “People are gay, Cole. They can get over it.”

Cole wasn’t necessarily closeted. It was a pretty well-known fact within their friend group that he was very much homosexual—you have one conversation with him and he just couldn’t hold back his flamboyancy— but the world was still filled with small-minded bigots. And in a small town like the one they lived in, it was easier just to keep the knowledge of his sexual preference to a minimum.

“I suppose this means our vow to marry one another is broken,” she continued forlornly. It was a joking promise they’d made to one another when they were fifteen and certain they’d be deemed outcasts forever—no one but each other to lean on.

Of course, she’d had Diana. Beautiful Diana. But there were many things Anne experienced that her beloved best friend just couldn’t understand. Diana was popular, beautiful, a glittering star among the backdrop of the night sky—something with which Anne found little to no relatability being the scrawny ostracized girl that she was. But Cole’s friendship allowed a quiet solace; a person who knew what it was like to feel unwanted and unpopular.

Cole snorted. “You broke it first,” he said, “What do Gilbert Blythe’s lips feel like?”

Anne nearly tripped over her own two feet, having briefly forgotten the mess she’d gotten herself into. She snapped her head to look at the tall boy beside her and fixed him with a desperate glare. The look on his face was nonchalant, but she knew he was dying with curiosity.

“Why’d you have to bring that up?” she said, unable to help the whiny tone that had weaved itself into her words.

Cole clucked his tongue. “You left me on read last night. You deserve it.”

“I think I’ve gotten punishment enough,” she replied, a frown twisting at her lips. “It’s all anybody can talk about when they see me.”

He looked at her. “Anne. You kissed Gilbert Blythe . ”

“Yes, I know what I did.”

“Gilbert. Blythe.”

Anne unlatched her hand from Cole’s and threw her arms up exasperatedly. “Can people stop saying his name as if I don’t know who he is!?”

They turned down a slightly less crowded hallway, taking a shortcut they’d found halfway through their freshman year. “Can you stop brushing it off like it’s no big deal?”

“It isn’t a big deal.” Anne grumbled.

He ignored her. “How’d it happen anyway?”

There was a tearing feeling in her stomach—indecision on if she should tell him the truth of the matter or not. The small part of her brain that was hung on Gilbert’s earlier suggestion rioted at her to choose not.

It won. “It just—happened. Okay?”

Cole screwed his nose up. “What does that even mean? ” he said. “What, did you just randomly see him and say ‘fuck it, I’mma give into the three years of overwhelming sexual tension’ and decide to eat his face off?”

Anne blanched at him, stopping dead walk in the middle of the hallway. “Sexual tension?” she sputtered. “Have you been talking to Jane?”

Cole released a light laugh at the expression on her face. “No, but I’m not surprised she feels the same way. Everybody does.”

“I hate it here.” Anne said sadly, mouth turning down at one corner. What a piteous thing to confuse hatred with sexual desire. Because certainly— certainly —Cole and Jane were wrong. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Gilbert Blythe. None whatsoever. And she was positive in the fact that there never would be.

“Drama queen.”

“How observant of you,” Anne replied, beginning to make her way down the hallway again. “It’s as if we’re friends. Almost like you know me.”

Her blonde companion snorted, but followed after her.

“Apparently not,” he continued vexingly. “Not if you’re sucking face with Gilbert frickin’ Blythe.”

“Cole, I love you, I really do. But if you don’t shut up right this very moment, I will not hesitate to murder you.”

“Anne—“

“I’m serious,” she said, “I live on a farm—lots of sharp tools at my disposal, Mackenzie. Don’t push me.”

He laughed—a short and exasperated release of breath. “Has anybody ever told you you’re kinda scary when you want to be?”

She glanced over to where he was matching her stride beside her, smiling crookedly and impishly.

Cole’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Please don’t flash me your murder eyes. It gives me the creeps.”

Reaching across the space between them with her arm, she patted his shoulder lightly. “Good.”

They lapsed into casual conversation then, walking quickly the rest of the way to the cafeteria and occasionally bumping each other’s shoulders teasingly. She really did appreciate Cole, she decided. Well, she’d always appreciated him—but unlike the rest of her companions, he never pushed her to talk about the things he knew she was most uncomfortable with. Teased her relentlessly maybe—okay, certainly —but he always, always, knew when enough was enough.

As they passed through the metal-doored threshold of Avonlea High’s sorry excuse for a cafeteria, (even their library was larger than the sparsely decorated area—hardly even eight long tables adorning the length of the walls and smaller rounded ones few and far between) Anne startled at the absolute terror she was faced with.

Being such a small school, the majority of the senior class was pushed into the same lunch schedule. Meaning all the kids she’d grown with for the past few years—all the classmates that knew most definitely about Anne’s adamant hatred towards one Gilbert Blythe—paused fractionally when they noticed her fiery mane out of the corners of their eyes.

Anne’s heart rate kicked up, stomach twisting painfully as the cafeteria quieted ever so slightly and heads swiveled to gawk at her.

She felt Cole’s hand squeeze hers. “Christ,” he mumbled beside her. “They really don’t have any lives do they.”

She snorted, eased slightly by his encouraging and easy-going presence. “Our school doesn’t even have a total of five-hundred students. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened since you showed sophomore year and Billie Andrews made it his mission to torment you.”

Her friend winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Shit, sorr—“

“Anne!”

The breath that had frozen in Anne’s chest upon realizing the upset she’d caused when first entering the cafeteria thawed the rest of the way at the familiar cadence of Diana’s voice. She could see her friend’s veil of dark hair, her infectious smile big and bright as she stood from their usual table tucked in the far corner of the room. The rest of her friends, still sitting, waved to her gregariously.

Friends, Anne reminded herself. Those are your friends and not even the disastrous evening before and whatever trouble Gilbert Blythe insights next can take them away from you.

She felt a warm smile tug at her lips as she moved toward the familiar corner, pulling Cole behind her as she went. But as she got closer, doubt crept into her mind. She saw the nervous glances Tillie, Jane and Ruby exchanged with one another—however miniscule they might have tried to make them seem. The scrunch of Diana’s nose, bringing her hand down from her enthusiastic wave and rubbing at a non-existent itch. Anne recognized it immediately as her bosom friend’s nervous tick.

Her steps slowed as she approached the table, nearly causing Cole to stumble into her from where he’d been following behind. Josie Pye—she was sitting straight backed, arms folded across her chest and an accusing glare flashing in her blue eyes.

Oh no.

Now this— this was the part she’d forgotten all about. Josephine Pye and her ridiculous aversion to amiable conversation. Her insufferable adamance on making Anne’s existence appear as a show for all the school to see. Josie fancied herself a puppet master, tugging at the strings on Anne’s back from the very first moment they’d met. And though a tedious friendship had developed between the two over the last few years, some things just never changed.

“Hey,” Anne squeaked out, instantly noticing how guilty she already sounded. She winced, sat stiffly on the stool across from her friends.

Cole rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, shoved his bookbag towards the end of the table and folded his artist hands in front of him as he leveled Josie with a shockingly protective gaze.

“There will be absolutely no mentions of a certain happening with a certain someone taking place at a certain time yesterday afternoon, got it?” His voice left no room for discussion.

Diana nodded eagerly, reaching across the table and giving Anne a sympathetic squeeze of the hand. Jane pursed her lips, obviously wanting to say something, anything, about the unfinished conversation the girls had all had in the car that morning—but seemed to think better of it. Tillie and Ruby, always the more soft spoken of the group, simply sat quietly, glancing between Cole and Josie, the latter of which had narrowed her eyes in an obvious challenge.

The blonde grenade snapped her eyes to Anne instead. “I think that—“

“No.” Anne said icily, surprising herself. She’d never been one to overtly challenge Josie. But after dealing with Royal Gardner and Gilbert Blythe and every single pair of eyes that had followed and judged and questioned her all morning, she’d had enough.

She cleared her throat, “No,” she tried again, less hostile this time. “We will not be discussing the kiss because it’s my business and I owe absolutely nobody an explanation.”

“Periodt,” chimed Cole, snapping his fingers. Diana giggled, attempting to smother it with her hand but failing rather obviously.

Tillie’s eyes had turned wide as saucers. “So it’s true? You and Gilbert kissed?”

“Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Josie snapped, “And obviously—“

“Josie, Anne literally just said we weren’t discussing it.” Diana huffed. It was the most annoyed Anne had ever seen her act with Josie—it made her want to tackle her best friend in a hug. “Please just drop the subject, okay? If she wants to explain herself then she will.”

“Must I repeat myself?” Cole raised an eyebrow at the blonde dragon across from him who was just barely containing the angry smoke Anne was sure to pore from her nostrils.

“Please,” replied Jane, amused.

“Periodt!” And he gave another flamboyant snap of his fingers.

Josie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You guys are dumb,” she said to the snickering gaggle of girls beside her, then she faced Anne again. “Look, I’m not one to really care all that much about your romantic life—“

Cole opened his mouth to protest but without even glancing his way, Josie cut herself off and snapped, “Shut it, Mackenzie.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of defeat.

“But as your friend,” loosely Anne had to bite back from commenting as Josie continued, “I worry about what this means for your… reputation.”

“Oh, for the love of god, Josephine Pye. We’re in high school, not running for the frickin’ electoral college. I promise you, me kissing somebody is not that deep.”

Did any of them have lives?

A throat cleared beside her—Cole’s. “I mean,” he said quietly, “it kind of is when you’ve vowed to hate said kissee for the rest of your days. ‘So long as you bring air into your lungs’ I believe were your exact words.”

Anne snapped her head over to her traitorous friend, one who’d not moments ago was just defending her.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The gays,” he said solemnly. And then, upon seeing Anne’s unamused look, “Joking, joking—I mean, not joking obviously, but… Look, Anne. As overdramatic as Josie is being—“ said girl harrumphed impertinently, “—Everybody and their mother knows how much you hate Gilbert. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you, girl, but this whole situation is questionable in the least.”

“I just want you to know,” began Anne, “How much I hate all of you right now, nevermind Gilbert.”

“Hey!” Tillie protested, “I haven’t done a single thing besides ask if the rumor was true in the first place.”

“Tillie Boulter with-holding.”

Jane opened her mouth, “I—“

“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Jane Andrews.”

Anne was so incredibly and entirely tired of this entire situation. So much for not talking about it… God, she should just out and admit the reasoning already. Clear the air, make sure that everybody knew it was a farce. A ploy to get Roy Gardner to finally leave her alone.

Who was she kidding anyway? Even entertaining the idea that Gilbert had planted in her head earlier that morning was absolute insanity. Them? Dating? Imagine the uproar then. If her classmates were so nosy as to be absolutely entranced by the fact that they simply kissed, imagine if they announced they were dating .

Oh dearest Snow Queen, she asked of her longest comfort, What would you do?

She set her jaw then, determining it was time to come clean. “Listen, guys. Gilbert and I didn’t actually—“

“Anne?”

She froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take a single breath for what felt like a solid thirty seconds. Her friends all startled to look behind her, Cole craning his neck to meet the gaze of probably the absolute last person Anne wanted to see right then.

“Roy!” Diana chirped with false cheer. Her eyes flit between Anne and the monstrous cad that stood behind her, betraying the panic she felt on behalf of her best friend. “I thought you had B lunch?”

Anne refused to turn around, still frozen as she watched, horrified, as all her friends looked at each other confused and curious.

“Well, I did. But the adviser decided to switch some of my classes around. She thought it would be best if I stayed with the rest of the senior class even if British academia didn’t quite meet up with American—Anne, are you trying to hide?”

She was, she totally, full-heartedly was. She’d sunk into herself, almost as if she were trying to allow the lunch table to swallow her whole.

“Anne, sit up ,” Josie hissed at her. Was she—god, was she batting her eyelashes at the boy behind her? The boy in which Anne could very clearly feel inching closer to her with every second she didn’t acknowledge him?

She took a deep breath, turned around in her seat finally for fear that he might reach out and touch her, place his disgustingly delicate and nimble hand on her shoulder. “Roy,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hullo.” Roy replied, probably smiling in a way he thought was enormously charming. “Your dress is quite beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the one wearing it, I might say. Almost .”

Oh, for the love of all that is good and— He was insufferable. Anger, white hot and immediate bubbled in her blood.

“What do you want?” She said, rather bluntly. Cole elbowed her in the arm, shot her a confused look. I’ll explain later, she hoped her face portrayed to him.

Diana, ever the mediator, cleared her throat. “Royal. These are my friends. Tillie, Ruby, Jane, Josie, and Cole.” Cole watched him hesitantly, the girls all exchanged giddy glances. “Of course, you already know Anne.”

“How could I ever forget.”

Anne had to resist the urge to feign a gag.

“Anyways. Guys, this is my cousin Royal.”

“Roy. Call me Roy,” he said. But he didn’t even glance at them, his eyes were trained solely on Anne’s. And Anne rather wanted to punch him in his obnoxiously pert nose.

“It’s nice to meet you, Roy—“ Ruby had begun, but the miscreant cut her off, paying sweet Ruby no attention.

“Anne, I was hoping we might talk?”

Anne clenched her jaw, fought to keep from squeezing her eyes closed in exasperation at the sheer audacity Roy had to even ask that of her.

Right. This was why she’d entertained Gilbert’s plan. This was why she had desperately kissed him. Because Royal Gardner had no boundaries and despite being related to her best and closest friend, every moment spent in his presence was a moment she knew she’d never get back.

“Talk,” she said stiffly. She stood up, grabbed a confused Cole’s hand and yanked him up beside her. “But make it fast because Cole and I still haven’t had a chance to get in the lunch line.”

“I am… so confused.” Anne heard one of the girls say behind her. Diana shushed her.

“Privately? Perhaps?”

She was seriously going to punch this boy in the face. Like, actually. Right there in front of everybody.

“Privately?” Anne snapped coldly, her fury like fire in her veins. She stepped around him, cornered him to the table, making sure her back was to the rest of the cafeteria. Too many rumors were already circulating around her. If she caused a scene, lord knew she’d never come back from it. “Are you joking?”

She saw Cole step back from the corner of her eye, scuttle to the other side of the cafeteria table with the girls. All their eyes were wide and unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Anne, there’s no need for such hostility. I was just trying to—“

“Deliberately make her uncomfortable?” a new voice chimed in from behind her. There was an unrecognizable hardness to it, incongruous to all of the other times she had heard it before. Across from her, her friends' eyes widened impossibly, gazes landing on the new addition to the already intolerable conversation.

Anne could feel as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned toward them, a sure spectacle to behold.

She watched as Roy’s jaw hardened, eyes trained behind her with a new intensity as he tracked the movements of Gilbert Blythe lazily sidling up beside Anne.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting,” Gilbert said as he threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders. She had to fight to keep from stiffening up, knew what he was doing, knew exactly what game he was playing at as he pulled her closer to his side and tucked her neatly beneath his arm. And while her blood boiled at his intrusion, at the audacity he had to come running in like he thought he was  some god-awful knight-in-shining-armor, at the way her friends’ expressions all changed immediately—all smirking and knowing and not nearly as surprised as she thought they’d be—the smallest part of her was relieved.

Relieved.

Like she’d still been gunning for that stupid, ludicrous plan that Gilbert had blabbered on about that very morning to actually work. Which in itself was most positively and unmitigatedly not going to happen in a million—

“Right. Is this him then?” The accusation in Roy’s voice broke Anne from her spiraling thoughts, solidifying the situation she was in. There, in front of all of her friends and essentially the entire senior class, she was facing off with one of the most impudent males she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And, lord above, Gilbert Blythe of all people was the only person with the ability to make Roy leave her alone.

“Just a few months.” His words pinged around in her mind, “We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again .”

She scowled, resisting the urge to fidget beneath Gilbert’s arm. The heat radiating from his body where their sides were pressed flush together was rather difficult to ignore. She felt as though she could feel it fuse with her blood, travel through her veins and warm her cheeks, her toes, clog up her lungs.

“Is this who?” Anne replied, her scowl deepening.

“The boyfriend. The reason I can’t pursue you… or so you say.”

A choking sound came from her group of friends, though she absolutely refused to look in their direction. She was positive that the fire she felt across her cheeks no longer had anything to do with Gilbert’s body heat.

Roy raised a single brow when she opened her mouth, snapped it back shut immediately—a fish floundering on dry land. Gilbert’s arm tightened around her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it only made her want to elbow him in the side. The mortification leaching any and all relief she’d previously felt by his presence.

“I—uh,” she stuttered. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?

“My god, he broke her,” she heard Cole whisper.

“Anne? You did tell me you had one, right?” Roy’s eyebrow was still raised, the brazen confidence leaking from every pore. She hated him, she decided. Hated him more than the curly haired boy whose arm was wrapped around her and whose current silence felt like a ticking time bomb.

“I did,” she replied, and to her utmost horror it came out weakly.

“As much as I love being talked about as if I’m not standing right here,” Gilbert interjected, and Anne wasn’t sure if he’d noticed it but his thumb had started rubbing tiny comforting circles where it rested on her upper arm, “Anne doesn’t owe you an explanation. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing. So whether she has a boyfriend or not—whether I’m that boyfriend or not—is none of your business.”

Woah.

Wait a minute, not woah , what the hell? Had he really said that? Had it really made her heart rate kick up in her chest at the way he’d not only defended her but her right to make her own choices without explanation?

Royal blinked, opened his mouth, closed it. But Gilbert ignored him, turned his head to face Anne. The expression on his face said It’s up to you , the small curve at the corner of his mouth added, Carrots.

She closed her eyes, counted one, two, before opening them back up and meeting Roy’s gaze.

God help her.

“Yeah, Roy,” she said, swallowed thickly, “Gilbert is my boyfriend."

[procrastinatorimagines]

Help

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago / Chicago Med

Character/s: Halstead!Reader, Will, Jay, Stella

Warning/s: abuse tw!!!!!!!!! I cannot stress this enough!!

Word Count: 2,486

Request:  Hello! Could you write an imagine where the reader is Halsteads' little sister and she is in abusive relationship but she hides it from them and then they eventually find out about everything? Love your writing ❤️

Summary: Y/N’s ran out of excuses, enough is enough, she knows she needs to leave, but she can’t do it alone, she needs her brothers by her side.

You usually did a better job at hiding the bruises, but working long shifts at a firehouse meant you were often reapplying make up every few hours, or making up any number of excuses as to why you were a little stiff or sore during the day.

You never knew how to reconcile your feelings, you knew you should leave him, that when ever he told you it would never happen again it wasn’t true... but you always found yourself making excuses, blaming yourself, you’d set him off, he’d hurt himself if you left, he loved you... 

It had been different this time though. Your brother, Jay, had come over to ask you about a collision you’d worked on shift and then he’d had to go straight to a call. In all the rush he’d left his jacket at your place and your boyfriend had snapped, accusing you of cheating on him and having another man in his house while he was at work. No matter how many times you’d told him it was Jay’s, he was just too angry to listen, throwing and smashing things as he yelled at you. Every step he took towards you, you’d taken backwards, trying to reason with him even though a part of you knew it wasn’t possible.

Then he’d grabbed your arms, nearly yanking them out your sockets and on instinct you pulled back, accidentally striking him as you pulled free from him. One second you were stood there, too shocked to say anything, and the next you were being pushed, and then you were falling, down and down until you slammed into the cold wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs. 

He’d left you there to pick yourself up, telling you you shouldn’t have provoked him and that you knew what his temper did, and that he only got angry because he loved you so much that the thought of you being with someone else was too much to bare. You hadn’t really heard the rest of it, the pain in your side like a fire as you’d pulled yourself up. Nothing was broken thankfully, but your ribs were bruised and your shoulder was next to numb, you knew once that wore off you’d really feel it.

He’d left you to clean up too, locking himself in your room to cool off, but it was your mess anyway right? You went the rest of the day in autopilot, knowing you had to get everything done before your shift in the morning, god that was going to be hell. Your boyfriend came down for dinner as you were finishing tidying up, promising that he’d do better if only you promised not to leave him, he needed you too much... 

Even though you’d heard every word before, accepted every word before even, mananged to rationalise it to yourself... something in you wasn’t what it had been before, your words felt hollow, empty, without real meaning behind them as you replied your usual reply. 

That night you lay in better, eyes so heavy that you couldn’t open them if you tried, but mind so awake you didn’t know how to shut it off. Every way you lay sent a shock of pain through your body, every little movement reminding you what he’d done. 

He was going to kill you. That’s what it was, what’d changed, you’d realised what was going to happen to you if you stayed. Part of your rationalising had always been that he never did anything worse than he usually did, as hard to understand as that was, but today...

What were you going to do?

You lay awake thinking about that question until you finally drifted off, barely registering your alarm when it went off in the morning.

Everything hurt as you dragged yourself out of bed, each step like your feet had been replaced with weights as you entered to bathroom to get ready for work. The water in the shower was as hot as you could make it as you let it scold your skin, brain still in autopilot of your usual morning routine until you saw yourself in the mirror. 

There was barely an inch that wasn’t at least a little black and blue, your ribs almost a canvas of colour as you struggled to put your clothes on. When you’d finally made it down the stairs you heard your boyfriend in the kitchen and it took everything you had to walk in there to grab your coffee before you left for shift. He had the audacity to act... normal as you made your drink, asking you if you’d had a good night sleep and what time you thought you were going to be home. When he kissed you on your way out you resisted the urge to hurl, your stomach twisting itself into painful knots and you hurried to your car. 

You only managed to get to the end of the road before you pulled over, your eyes too blurry with tears to see the road. The tears that came were hard and long over due, your ribs aching with every sob that you couldn’t stop as you tried and failed to pull yourself together, the thought that he was going to kill you echoing in your skull, even after the tears had dried and you realised you were going to be late to work.

But you got lucky, Boden was in a meeting so briefing had been delayed, meaning you had time to go fix your make up in the toilets before many people got a good look at you. 

That’s exactly what you were doing when Stella walked in as you were putting on your uniform, all but stopping in her tracks as she regarded you carefully. You knew they all suspected what was going on at home, you were smart enough to realise your excuses couldn’t fool everybody forever, you next to never made a single mistake out in the field but suddenly you were the clumsiest person ever at home?

“Hey...” Stella said slowly and you swallowed hard, pulling your shirt down quickly and trying not to wince at the pain in your shoulder, “Y/N what happened?” Her voice was full of alarm as she approached but you put your hands out to stop her.

“It’s nothing, looks worse than it is, I tripped is all,” you fumbled, tucking your shirt in quickly.

“Tripped? What, down the stairs?” Well, actually yes, you thought, but in reality your tongue got tied as you tried to make up some more of an explanation.

Mercifully, however, you were saved by the bell and with one more look of concern, Stella exited the room, you in tow, and out towards the truck. 

It was a car crash, a lorry had flipped over and caused a bit of a pile up, but you perservered through the call, despite just how badly your body was screaming at you to rest. With Stella keeping one eye on you at all times you didn’t want to miss any step as you focused on your work, trying to forget the look of horror and concern in Stella’s eyes when she’d seen you, she was genuinely scared for you. And you couldn’t blame her.

You avoided her the rest of the day, making up any excuse to avoid that look of sympathy on her face that was leaving a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. She only wanted to help, you knew they all would, but you didn’t know what to say. You were screaming for help in your head but the words just didn’t seem to want to come out.

The rest of shift was pretty much the same, and by the time it was over you could barely move to start the car, hoping you’d have time to unwind with a bath before your boyfriend came home.

You’d just finished running it when you heard a knock at the door. Your boyfriend often forgot his keys so with a high you made your way down the stairs slowly, images of your fall flashing through your mind as your throat began to close up just thinking about seeing him right now. You just needed a minute to catch your breath, just some time to yourself before you suffocated.

But your boyfriend wasn’t at the door. Your brother’s were.

“Hey Y/N,” Will said carefully, there was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Hey guys,” you put on a smile, “did I forget some plans we had?” The three of you used to have dinner weekly, or catch up at Molly’s, but your boyfriend got so defensive whenever you went out without him that it was rare that you ever saw them both at the same time.

“No, er...” Will stumbled, looking to Jay to carry on. Oh, you realised, noting the same look in their eyes that Stella had.

“We just wanted to talk to you, make sure you’re alright,” Jay explained and you shook your head.

“I’m fine, I don’t-” Jay cut you off quickly.

“Stella talked to us, and Y/N... we’ve given you some space, pushing you would only have made you close us off more, but Christ-” Jay swore, anger coating his words.

“Jay,” Will put a hand on his brother’s shoulder before focusing back on you, “we just want to help you, it’s all we’ve ever wanted, just let us in, please. Y/N, please.” The was his voice cracked on the please nearly broke your heart, so you nodded numbly, and stepped back so they could enter. 

The first thing Jay noticed was the dents in the walls, the missing spaces on the shelves, and the crack in the floor at the foot of the stairs. You thought he was going to explode. “We’re getting you out of here, you’re leaving with us, now.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I can’t-” You started but he didn’t let you finish as he surveyed the damage to the house.

“Yes, you can, you either leave with us now or-” He fumed.

“Or what?” You asked.

“Or you’ll be leaving in a body bag Y/N!” He yelled, causing you to flinch and jump back automotically. Will noticed and stepped up, putting his hand on Jay’s chest and pulling him back a little as your heart sped up.

“Jay, calm down,” Will said carefully as you took steady breaths, willing that flight instinct to settle.

“No, don’t tell me to calm down, I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Jay snapped back, turning away and letting out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“Jay please I can’t just-” You didn’t know how to finish, how to make him understand something even you didn’t fully understand.

“Y/N, you know it isn’t safe for you here, the way Stella described those bruises...” Will explained, desperation creeping into his voice.

“He loves me, and I love him,” you told him, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“This isn’t love, not this, love doesn’t do this to a person, not real love,” Jay replied, facing you both again as he tried to calm himself down.

“If I go- I don’t know what he’ll do to himself,” you admitted, remembering all the threats he’d made if you ever tried to leave him. He loved you so much, he always told you, that he couldn’t live with out you, literally.

“So?” Jay exclaimed, earning a warning glance from Will as you put your head in your hands, groaning as you tried to sort out the thoughts and emotions swirling around in your head.

“Jay- just, please. Y/N, think about what he’ll do to you if you stay,” Will pleaded, and you knew, somewhere inside of you, you knew he was right, you’d always know, deep down, but after yesterday...

“I’m scared,” you said finally, tears rolling down your cheek and your heart felt like it was cracking open, “I’m just- I’m scared, scared to go, scared to stay, I- I- I don’t know what to do, he promised- he always promises- oh god-” You sobbed.

“Y/N...” Jay said quietly, at a loss for how to possibly comfort you.

“Help me... please just help me...” You felt like your knees were about to give out, the pressure, the stress, the strain... it was all too much. 

“Come on, Y/N, please just come with us, I’m begging you to leave with us,” you never heard Will sound so vulnerable, so scared, he sounded so much younger now, so unlike the confident and sure doctor he usually was. 

“I can’t- he’s all I have, without him- I- I can’t do it alone- I’m not strong enough-” You stammered, the weight of the decision threatening to knock you off your feet.

“You have us Y/N, you’re not alone, you’re never alone, you have 51, and Intelligence, and Med...” Jay reminded you, putting his hand on your shoulder gently as you forced yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“I promise you it’ll be better than this,” he told you, looking to Will.

“We love you Y/N, we’re your big brothers, let us do our job, let us protect you.” Will continued, taking your hand, their love and warmth filling the breaks forming in your heart as you tried to strengthen your resolve, tried to find any last shred of confidence your boyfriend hadn’t taken from you.

With a shaky breath you nodded, your head heavy, but you kept it up as high as you could. “Okay,” you said weakly, swalling hard as you tried to steady your voice. 

“Okay?” Both brother’s looked to each other hopefully.

“Okay.” You said, the word felt like freedom, it felt like hope, that maybe there was a light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel somewhere, you couldn’t get there alone, but with the family you had behind you... maybe, just maybe, you could make it out of this abyss.

You didn’t grab many things, you didn’t want to stay in the house any longer in case you changed your mind, or incase your boyfriend came home. Will took the bag off your hands and grabbed your hand, Jay taking your other one as they both led you outside, and headed to their car. They were taking you to the hospital, and then to the 21st.

You felt heavy, but with each step out of that house, every breath of fresh air, you felt like it was step closer to getting your life back, each breath like you were breathing again for the first time. 

Enough was enough, you were scared, scared of entering the unknown, but you knew now that you weren’t alone, you were never going to be alone, it was going to be okay.

[mhafiction]

Req from @annonymousbread:

Here is an actual request if you’re okay with it ☺️

Maybe a story where katsu’s crush from class 1-A gets kidnapped and they don’t find her for over a year. Which by then class 1-A has graduated and all become pro hero’s.

Then Katsuki finally finds her on one of his missions?

Note: This is really becoming a Bakugo fanfic blog huh? I’m not complaining, he’s a very fun boy. -K.

“Bakugo!”

He remembered it. Your sobbing, the fear in your voice, your cries of pain. He saw the rubble, the overcast sky, every little thing rendered with terrifying accuracy. He looked down at his hands. Why was he back here? An uneasy feeling reveled in the pit of his stomach. You cry out again, your shouts solitary and panicked. Lighting courses through his veins, and without an ounce of hesitation, he takes off running. He had to find you.

His lungs burn as he navigates the field, his heart pounding in his head, eyes darting back and forth with frenzied panic as he scans the ruins. Y/N, where are you? The rubble morphs into a terrifying maze, and he feels a cold sweat drip down his back. Bakugo hears you call out his name again and again, and fears the worst, turning around-

There you were, standing in front of him with that faraway look in your eyes. Your eyes... those goddamn eyes haunted him ever since. He reached out to you, tried to call you name-

But you slipped right through his fingers. His throat was tight; nothing came out. And you just stared at him, unblinking, lips ever so slightly parted.

“Why Katsuki? Why couldn’t you have saved me?”

Your voice is accusatory, bitter, and so unlike everything that he knew about you... yet it felt so real.

Bakugo feels a dryness in his mouth as he shouts to you, his voice cracking. It was if a dam burst, and he sobs, sinking to his knees. “I tried!” He curses, watching you turn your back to him, and as he reaches out his hand to catch your wrist, he jolts awake.

Katsuki pants, heaving up and down. Sweat rolls down his forehead. It had felt way too real. He sighs, checking the clock. 4 am. Great. Should he even be surprised? He rises, pulling open his curtains and preparing for the day ahead, your face still fresh in his mind

Bakugo hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since your disappearance, almost two years ago. Hell, he wondered how anyone from 1-A did. They had been there, too- that fateful day of the school festival, everyone riled up to celebrate the fact that it was their last one before graduation. And of course, something had to go wrong.

Your quirk was invaluable and insanely powerful: controlling probability. If you stockpiled enough energy, you could exert it to tip the scales to someone’s advantage, which could range from boosting the probability of rolling a six on a die...or boosting the probability of someone winning a fight. It worked better when more specific and focused, however.

You had gained a lot of attention from having such an interesting quirk, but some of it turned out to be pretty...bad. Including a plucky group of villains who had been able to capture you during the school festival. The brawl had moved to the city, after Bakugo sent one of the dudes careening into the side of a building with a skillful explosion. Pros urged him to evacuate, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t have, not when you had been among the ones to save him when he had been kidnapped.

But you weren’t as lucky.

They got away with you. Bakugo remembered the look on your face as you were whisked away into thin air. Gone without a trace, slipped through his fingers.

The search was an ordeal that was significantly harder than his own. The group that had kidnapped you was pretty underground. This, in fact, was their first major crime.

So that left police with no leads, no identification, and no evidence whatsoever. The case went cold. Not a day went by when Bakugo didn’t think of you. His graduation had been somber, Class 1-A collectively on edge together for the rest of the year. Y/N, the promising rising star, so obviously on track to becoming a powerful hero— snuffed out just like that. There was rage, there were tears, there was silence. But now, they had to move on. They were adults, pro-heroes who needed to focus on bigger things. He growled. Yeah, right.

It was no secret among his peers that he liked you. After that incident, many pitied him and the way he kept his head down and his jaw clenched. They didn’t speak up when he lost his temper, they didn’t point out that he was easier to piss off than usual, and they didn’t try to stop him when he’d curse a disproportionate amount at some inanimate object that had wasn’t working right. They knew his pain. Despite him never opening up to anyone, they knew. Bakugo immersed himself in his ambition; training and fighting being the only “healthy” outlet he had. By the time he left UA, he was already in the top ten and slowly forming an agency. He kept an old bulletin board dedicated to your case, spending months trying to track you. Everyone considered him crazy for refusing to let go. But that never stopped him.

His phone rings, and he groans, seeing the contact. Nevertheless, he answers, forcefully brushing the phone against his ear.

“Deku?!”

“Ah! Kacchan, I need to ask for your help on a case.”

Bakugo rubs his temples, annoyed just at the sound of his childhood friend’s voice.

“Heh? Like I would help you, nerd!”

Deku’s voice takes on a graver tone, somewhat faltering. “I think you’d want to after you hear this guy’s MO.”

“Yeah right.”

“No, listen. You remember-“ Deku pauses a moment, hesitating as he chokes back his words. His voice is strained over the phone, betraying some sort of feeling that leaves Bakugo on edge. “You remember Y/N?” Deku continues.

Bakugo bites his lip, brow furrowed with anguish. Internally, he thanks whatever higher power there is that his old friend can’t see his face.

“How could I forget?” He mumbles.

“Well,” Deku breathes, his tone still solemn. “This guy- eyewitness reports say he vanishes into thin air. Literally. He’s been spotted all over the prefecture, mostly dealing in theft, but the most recent case they’ve linked him to is the kidnapping of a Shiketsu boy. Promising kid. The cases also match up with your research, too. I know it’s a stretch-“

Bakugo looks at the old bulletin board placed above his bed, bitter recollection filling his head. “I’m in.”

“Eh? You are?”

“Yes, you shitty nerd! Just brief me on the course of attack. Bastard won’t know what hit him.” He prays that Deku won’t catch on to the trembling intensity of his words. He didn’t need anyone else’s pity, much less Deku’s. What he needed was to find you.

“...You know it might not be him, right? And even if it is, there’s no guarantee...?”

Bakugo tenses, and the line is silent for a moment. His palms are suddenly heavy, weary with exhaustion. He sighs, frustration in a single breath.

“Goddamn it, I know that. But I have to try, Deku.” His voice cracks, shaky but firm. “I owe it to her.”

Deku is quiet. The air is thick—almost suffocating. And finally, he responds.

“Then, drop by my agency this evening. There’s a lot to cover.”

———————————————————————

“Peh. So this is the place.”

Bakugo looks up at the building. It was modest, but classy. Respectable,especially with its prime location. Not that he’d let Deku know.

He’s escorted into a conference room, eyeing the place up and down. His face contorts into dramatic anger when he locks eyes with none other than Todoroki Shouto.

“WHAT’S ICY-HOT DOING HERE?!”

Bakugo grabs Midoriya by the collar, his eye twitching and his fist poised. Deku starts sputtering like a dying fish, waving his hands around.

“Kacchan- he was interested in the mission, too! And it’s not like we can’t use his help-“

“YES WE CAN! WE DON’T NEED HIM!”

“But he might be useful! He’s a top ranking hero too, you know-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’LL BE USEFUL!”

Bakugo reels back his arm, ready to blast Deku’s ass into the stratosphere. Todoroki appears behind him, cool as ever.

“Bakugo,” Shouto begins, gently setting a hand on his shoulder. “She was my friend, too.”

Bakugo pauses, his violent persona sufficiently diffused. He loosens his grip on Midoriya, casting Todoroki a wayward glare. Shouto returns it with his own determined eyes. “Tch. Whatever. Let’s get on with this.”

They settle into seats, Midoriya wheeling in a large whiteboard with meticulous notes dotted all over it.

“First and foremost, I guess I should start with the fact that we’ll also be joined by Uravity, Red Riot, and Froppy,” Midoriya begins, adjusting a projector.

“Do we really need that many people?”

“In all likelihood, no. But there’s a tip that this guy is linked to some bigger crime ring.” A map charting several misdemeanors flicks onto the board. “So, with backup, we’re better safe than sorry.”

Bakugo slumps in his chair. “What is this, a high school reunion?” He jeers.

Midoriya gives him a wry smile. “I guess you can look at it like that. Thanks to your intel, Kacchan, we were able to track down his ID. I went through some records down at the station, and the guy we’re going after apparently has some sort of molecular rearrangement quirk.”

Todoroki cocks his head. “Sort of like that Yakuza guy? Back with Eri?”

“Sort of. But the point is, it allows him to disappear covertly. Really covertly. He just needs to break down his body and his target to their smallest forms and he can manipulate and transport them without a trace. Disappearing into thin air.”

“That sounds awfully familiar,” Todoroki notes, giving Bakugo a quick glance. Bakugo snorts in response, recalling your disappearance. Thin air, huh?

Midoriya nods. “I have a hunch that...it’s the same guy. But, since there’s no guarantee, let’s not get our hopes up. Let’s just focus on prioritizing the rescue.” He turns his board over, revealing an even more intricate chart on the back. “Let’s go over a plan.”

———————————————————————

The fateful day arrived. Police encircled the building- some dingy joint on the bad side of town that looked like any other dive bar. Bakugo would lead the calvary alongside Kirishima and Todoroki, while Asui and Deku rounded off any potential exits. Uraraka watched from above, surveying the entire scene with bated breath.

Bakugo kicks down the door, poised to attack, and meets the faces of at least twenty other folks. One shouts above the ramble and suddenly all hell breaks loose. People are throwing bottles, attacking at Bakugo and each other- and he catches a glimpse of someone fleeing down a flight of stairs behind the bar.

He pursues, carving through the dense crowd with ease. He flies down the stairwell, greeting darkness almost immediately. Bakugo’s explosions flicker in his hands, casting orange shadows over his face in the dim hall. It’s narrow, and there’s only one way to go. There’s only one thing to do. He takes off running, panting heavily, gritting his teeth. This bastard- the nerve he had. To steal the futures of some promising kids.

The hall opens to a cavernous room, and Bakugo edges along the wall, silently inching forward. He catches a glimpse of a long shadow limping back and forth, pacing with nervous energy. Bakugo grins to himself, prepared to strike, and as the silhouette passes the opening of the hallway, he tackles them, restraints in hand. “DIE!” He sends an explosion to their backside. The villain lets out a sturdy cry of pain and immediately yields. Not that it mattered, the restraints wouldn’t permit the use of his quirk whatsoever.

Bakugo looks the guy up and down, hate filling his chest. He growls, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

The man is silent, not even meeting Bakugo’s fiery eyes. Bakugo forces his head towards him, watching fear dance in his gaze. He sneers. “You’re just a coward,” he spits.

Kirishima’s footsteps patter through the hall, and the red-haired boy bursts into the room, stumbling upon the scene.

“Bakugo! That’s the guy!” Bakugo tosses the criminal to him, surveying the area. “Take care of it,” he mumbles in his raspy tone. “I’m looking for the victim.”

He approaches a nearby door- old and decrepit, like everything else in the place. With calculated force, he blasts it down, dread forming in the pit of his stomach. The room is dirty and neglected, like some kind of dungeon.

His eyes widen when he sees your face, hollow cheeks and empty eyes chained against the wall alongside a sobbing boy. Shock fills your sunken form, and you utter out his name, a wistful, raspy murmur.

“Katsuki...?”

Bakugo freezes, once again feeling a terrible weight in his chest. He wants to scream, he wants to go to you- but he’s rooted to the spot, disgusted at your treatment...and at himself. Police flood the little room, Midoriya shouting commands and comforting the boy, and everything’s in a haze. But throughout it all, he never tears his eyes from you, despite the clenching he feels in his heart.

You wake up in an unfamiliar hospital bed. The world seems different. Fresh, and new. A small smile forms on your face, and you giggle quietly to yourself, blinking in the gentle light. You examine the room. A clean, white place with a monitor beeping softly in the background. The hum of machines drone on, and to your right-

You gasp, surprised to see the sleeping face of none other than Bakugo Katsuki, slumped down in a chair. Your childhood crush, handsome as ever. Halos bounced off of the spikes of his hair where the light hit him, leaving him looking like some otherworldly beauty. You laugh to yourself, starting as a small chuckle at this moment- then dissolving into a deep, boisterous and emotional expression of mirth, one that caused tears to form at the corner of your eyes and made you choke over your own joy. It inadvertently woke your spiky-haired hero, who looked down at you, eyes wide and tired.

“Y/N.”

You lift your hand up to him, cupping his face. “Katsuki.”

His jaw clenches, and his eyes go glassy. As he speaks, you feel a sadness, deep and broken, in his heart, and his voice cracks.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry I couldn’t be faster. That I couldn’t save you-“ he chokes.

“I never lost hope in you.” Bakugo looks into your eyes, and your heart skips a beat with how vulnerable he looks. “I stockpiled energy with the hope that you’d rescue me,” you whisper, brushing away a tear from his face. “I trusted you’d be the one. Out of all of them at UA-“ you smile softly, recalling your high school years. “You were the one I thought of the most. And thinking of you...it gave me hope.” How far away it all seemed. Those days with your friends, training on the field, hoping to be a hero.

“I thought of you, too.” Bakugo grips your hand, as if afraid you’ll disappear again. You pull him into a hug, stroking his trembling form. It felt so good to be in his arms, almost dream like. “Katsuki, I have something to tell you, though,” you murmur. “I had quite the crush on you, back at UA,” you chuckle. He pulls back, still holding you. He brings a calloused hand to your face, drinking in your features. “I did, too,” he admits. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach, and suddenly it’s as if you’re sixteen again.

“Do you think it’s still there?” You breathe.

He never takes his eyes from yours, and slowly moves in to press his forehead to yours.

“If you do.” You close the distance, placing a kiss on his lips. You drown in his familiar scent, sighing with contentment. Now, this felt like home. Bakugo moves back cautiously, his gentle demeanor and tone never shifting. He brushes a hair away from your face, ever so softly.

“God, you think we can make it work?” He mutters. “You deserve someone who could have saved you on the first try.”

Your brow creases watching Katsuki avert his gaze. You force him to turn his head to you, looking at you straight on. “We have the rest of our lives, Katsuki,” you tell him. “And don’t you dare think that you’ve failed me. You’re the one who tried the hardest. You’re the one who saved me.” Bakugo shrugs.

“I didn’t do it alone.”

You shake your head, beaming. “That’s not what I mean. Holding on to the idea that you’d come— that’s what saved me. I would have died, ages ago if I didn’t carry that hope with me. If I didn’t have that goal to save up my energy to help you find me.”

Bakugo softens beneath your touch, melting as you give him a couple of pecks. He grips your tiny hand in his, swearing that he’ll never let you go ever again.

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows - CH. 1

Fred Weasley x OC

3,495 k

Ch. 1 / 10

Warnings: None for this chapter. Eventual smut 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

_______________________________

How someone in the wizarding world hadn't come up with a spell to mimic the brief high of a cigarette puff, Fern Longbottom had no clue. Being a witch would finally feel worth it if she could blast herself at least once every ten minutes to feel momentary relief instead of having to climb the god-awful moving staircase to smoke one cigarette in the Astronomy tower before she was missed by the other Prefect on rounds.

Not that they even needed her. Prefect duties had become much easier ever since Umbridge had taken over as the unofficial authority at Hogwarts. These days, nary a soul, besides the dead ones wandered the halls after hours, for fear of peeving off the menace in pink. She didn't much mind the strict witch's presence, but then again, she wasn't exactly in the line of fire, nor was anyone else in Ravenclaw. The only thing that did make her roll her eyes was that almost all of her duties and responsibilities had been bequeathed to undeserving Slytherins on the Inquisitional Squad. They were a pack of eager dogs, desperate to bring their master the best corpse. At least when she gave someone detention, it was rather painless and they actually deserved it.

Thankfully, she hadn't run into anyone who deserved it tonight. Not that she'd mind the company. Every hall she had passed on the way up the dizzying stairs, was empty. That was one thing she did miss from the time before Umbridge. Usually, there would be absolute chaos in every corner of the dark seventh-floor hallway but tonight, it was silent.

She skirted through the hall, ignoring the hairs on the back of her neck, reminding her of how dark and empty the hallway was. Without light pollution from civilizations nearby, nighttime at Hogwarts was deep and unrelenting until morning. Even in the castle, candles and fireplaces couldn't illuminate the stone rooms enough to fully ward off the hours of shadow. To make matters worse, she'd noticed in her tenure as Prefect that in the evenings, without company or companion, the cobble architecture swallowed sound. Footsteps, words, laughter, and voices dissipated upon utterance without a crowd to overpower the course sandstone abyss. She didn't normally like the quiet, in any capacity, but especially in the castle that could easily swallow her whole with various secret halls, doors, and chambers.

Even at home, quiet was no good. If Neville wasn't rambling on about Herbology or Gran wasn't lecturing her brother about speaking too fast or walking too slow, the air felt thick. It clung to her limbs, and filled her lungs, and brought her thoughts to a standstill. The emptiness that followed, before sound rushed back in, froze her. She'd read a quote once, walking out of St. Mungo's after a particularly somber visit to her parents that said, 'for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.' Whatever abyss Nietzsche was referring to, she doubted that he knew what real emptiness felt like.

You didn't look at it, and it didn't look at you. It was an extension of consciousness; unrelenting and irremovable. Emptiness was a hospital room with people who couldn't recognize you. Emptiness was seeing the same careless bravery that had gotten them there in her brother who seemed too eager for war. Emptiness was being powerless to change any of it. After a while, she'd didn't feel so empty anymore, realizing that she'd simply become the abyss.

Now, it took up a corner of her mind, whispering evil things and infuriating questions with no answer. Every action had an equal reaction, and she was powerless to control every single one, not for lack of trying, as it liked to remind her. Every glance in the mirror, conversation in her head, and silent moment was tainted by this ache with no relief, other than the few times a week she got to smoke a cigarette.

She briefly closed her eyes as she walked, quelling the downward mental spiral by focusing on the crisp scent of fall turning into winter as it drifted in from the tower at the end of the hall. She imagined herself amongst the trees somewhere warm and beautiful, like Italy. The heat from the lone fireplace to her right acted as the artificial seaside sun. The crackling log was a babbling brook and she couldn't hear her own footsteps because she was barefoot in the grass. Her lips pulled into a soft smile. She was content until she heard footsteps.

She jumped and opened her eyes frantically as a very familiar figure appeared ten feet in front of her.

"Nev?" She half shouted.

"Oh hi," he squeaked out, looking behind his right shoulder, around a corner she couldn't see.

She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain why he was out of his dorm so late but he just stood, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Hi… uh what are you doing up here?"

She watched as he jumped a little at her question, clearly uncomfortable with her suspicious tone. In recent years, her younger brother had become more akin to rule-breaking but sneaking around after dark wasn't usually his style.

He glanced over his shoulder again and took a few frantic footsteps towards her as if he was trying to herd her back down the hall.

"Erm…nothing," he worried. "I was in the uh tower."

His words slurred with the speed and she took sweeping steps to meet him before he got too far away from whatever it was that he seemed to be hiding.

"Nev," she said slowly. "In the tower…doing what?"

He didn't seem to register her question so she snapped her fingers in front of his face, bringing his consciousness back down to earth.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you keep looking around like that?"

"Um…I'm just uh waiting —"

"For…?"

As if on cue, more voices appeared, loud and bouncing, out of thin air.

"Who is that?"

He looked down at his shoes, content to have her discover his counterparts on her own. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to actually hand out a detention, she breezed past him and towards the sound.

She made it three steps before Fred and George Weasley stepped around the corner and looked down at her, in shock, as if she was the one who had appeared out of nowhere. The evening was already a headache, but it was well on its way to turning into a migraine.

Before they could speak, she pounced.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was cruel and seeping with blame, directed at two of her least favorite people.

From as far back as she could remember, nearly seven years now, the three of them hadn't gotten along. The twins were intolerable, annoying, and self-centered. There was no joke, prank, or quip that could ever really be enough to fuel their egos so they always went too far, too fast, making the entirety of the study body accomplices and victims to their antics. Although, it hadn't been until her brother's unfortunate friendship with the twins that she'd started to harbor a real hatred for them.

"Hey," Fred called down the hall behind her towards Neville, pointing wildly, avoiding her accusatory stare. "Look Longbottom, it's Longbottom!"

"A family reunion," George added, clapping his hands together. "How touching."

Fred's eyes twinkled at her sour look. "Out for an evening stroll?"

She rolled her eyes. "I asked you a question."

"Oh c'mon Longbottom, no need to be so hostile, I'm only making small talk," Fred cooed. "Y'know like, how's your evening? How was your day? Are you —"

"Enough, you fucking half-whit. Why are you up here?"

George smiled big at her instantaneous anger but it was Fred who stepped closer and spoke again with a more threatening tone.

"Not quite, but you've almost got the hang of it. You're supposed to answer someone's question before you ask one of your own, it's polite."

"So answer it," she retorted, closing the last few inches between them.

"You first," he said with a scowl, relishing in her contempt. "How is your evening?"

"Abysmal, thanks to you."

"It always seems to be that way when we're together, Longbottom. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're the problem?"

"Funny," she hissed. "I would beg to differ"

"You? Beg? Now that would make for a lovely evening. Go on then," Fred taunted, looming over her with his usual pretentious sneer.

She glared at him, fuming, and ignored Neville's plea behind her to just leave it alone.

"Alright, we should really be off now," George yawned, stretching his arms over his head for dramatic effect. "Longbottom family, it's been lovely."

Fred bared his teeth as if to gloat and brushed her shoulder with force as he followed his brother towards the stairs. She glanced at Neville for backup but he gave her a miserable shrug. Discontent with the outcome, she spun around and grabbed Fred by the arm.

"For fucks sake, just tell me what you're doing up here or I'll give you a detention!"

He whipped around with a fire in his eyes and clamped a hand down on her wrist.

"Ask. Your. Brother," he hissed through clenched teeth, blazingly serious as he yanked her arm up close to her face.

Neville let out a little gasp at the outburst but she just hardened her glare.

She yanked her hand from his. "Charming."

Fred didn't let her finish the word before he stalked away in a huff, tapping Neville on the shoulder as if to say good luck. The less volatile twin shot her an apologetic look before disappearing down the stairs after his brother.

Despite having gotten used to Fred Weasley's short fuse and erratic temper, her heart nearly beat out of her chest. She'd been the reason for many an outburst, from detention slips to thwarted pranks over the years, none having been quite this tame. If they'd been alone, she liked to think that she might have accosted him back. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Neville came up behind her, radiating with nerves.

"Really, Fern," he stuttered. "It's fine…I just had astronomy homework."

"Don't lie to me, Nev," she accused, probably louder than she needed to.

"Honest, we were just studying!"

"Oh give it a rest, those two have never studied a day in their lives! They're nothing but trouble. What are you thinking, letting them drag you into something sure to get you on Umbridge's bad side?"

"I'm already on her bad side," he mumbled. "So it doesn't really matter if —"

"Well then you can't really afford to make it any worse, can you? I mean hanging out with the Weasley twins after hours is one of the stupidest things I can think of. You're smarter than this!"

"They're my friends, it's nothing —"

"Some friends they are, Neville. Honestly, what could you possibly expect from hanging out with them, besides trouble? You're lucky that it was me that you ran into tonight, and not another Prefect, or worse. How could you be so —"

"You aren't my mum, Fern… I can look out for myself," he squeaked in a small, but stern voice.

She stopped talking immediately, struck by his sudden gumption. The twins had definitely gotten to him. Normally, he would've at least given her the benefit of the doubt and listened to her advice. She furrowed her brow when he glanced up, still looking nervously at the hallway behind her.

"You should get back to your common room," she sighed finally, unwilling to fight and elongate the portion of the evening without any nicotine in her system. "It's late."

"Alright," he said, nodding a little more energetically now that she'd stalled her lecture. "See you later?"

"Yeah….see you later."

He sped off down the hall, probably keen to catch up with his so-called friends. She cursed Fred to high heaven as she scaled the astronomy tower stairs, stopping briefly to retrieve a cigarette from the school stash, underneath a floorboard below the telescope. She tucked it between her teeth, used a non-verbal fire spell, and stepped over to the balcony.

The grounds were fuzzy and dark green beneath the muted moonlight. She stared confused for a moment at the darker than usual, blurred Hogwarts lawn, and then tipped her head upwards. A deep fog blurred the view, making the constellations completely invisible. The moon tried to blaze through the haze but it barely reached the earth's surface.

There was no way they got any astrology homework done, she thought, glancing around the room for clues.

Other than a few cigarette butts, there was nothing.

She took a drag and watched the smoke commingle with the haze. Nicotine rushed through her head providing momentary dizzying peace and oblivion. This buzz, although brief, was preferable to anything else. Drugs were unobtainable and inconsistent, alcohol lasted too long to be truly relaxing and she could never get the various potion options right. Tobacco gave her the two things that she craved, a tiny ounce of rebellion, and an unoccupied mind.

She flicked her finished cigarette onto the floor, one final testament to her moment of disobedience for the night, and flitted back down the stairs, eager to be finished with her rounds.

The hallway was still and dark again as she flew through it. The incident with her brother and his fellow Gryffindors had nearly been forgotten when other voices drifted from the hallway behind her.

Stunned by their apparition, she turned slowly, trying not to look terrified.

"Hey Fern," Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst said in unison, arm in arm, coming around the corner where she'd been a few footsteps ago.

"Hey…guys," she responded, looking for an explanation.

"Prefect rounds?" Padma said, nodding to her house robes after hours.

"Yeah," she stammered.

"That sucks. Almost done though?"

She nodded and watched the girls try and contain their giggles about something she couldn't see. She glanced down the hall and found it devoid of doors or entrances despite the astronomy tower, where they most certainly were not.

"Astronomy homework?" She asked them, surrendering to her urges of suspicion. Where had they come from?

"Yep," Padma replied energetically.

"Lovely evening to see the stars," she goaded.

"They were brill," Mandy chimed in, turning to get her friend to nod in agreement. "Oh, by the way, I think a few people are going to be hanging out in the boy's dorm later tonight if you wanna come."

"Wicked," she responded, faking interest. "Corner and Boot's room?"

"Yep!"

"Ok, I'll try and swing by," she assured them. "You guys better get back though, I don't know who else has rounds tonight but if it's Abbott, you're screwed."

"Shit," Mandy said. "Is the Inquisitional Squad out tonight too?"

"Haven't seen them yet but I think they come round at 9."

"Thanks, Fern, you're a lifesaver!" Padma whispered, turning to run with her friend, hand in hand. "See you later!"

She watched them run back down towards the moving staircase and then turned to inspect the hall in a daze. She squeezed her eyes tight, imagining a door at the end of the hall but when she opened them, the stone wall remained the same; tall, grey, and empty.

There was no door anywhere.

Where were all these kids coming from?

The Weasley's having some secret entrance into the hallway made sense but her housemates and brother didn't. The mystery motivated her enough to make quick work of the walk back to her common room where she ignored a wave of 'hello's from her peers and rushed to her dorm room.

"Daisy!"

Her roommate jumped two inches off the bed and nearly toppled onto the floor as she rushed in and slammed the door. The tall strawberry blonde stared at her with wide, absent eyes for a moment before relaxing back onto the bed and setting her book on the nightstand.

"You might be content dying from a stress-induced heart attack at a young age, my love," she cooed, returning to her easy-going state. "But I, am not. Please exclude me from any further loud and anxious announcements in the —"

"Daisy," she repeated, ignoring her best friend's usual long-winded, abstract ramblings. "I think I may have stumbled upon a mystery."

Daisy gasped and threw a hand over her mouth, smiling wickedly as for one moment Fern thought that she was equally intrigued.

"I'm serious," Fern said flatly.

"I can't say I'm surprised," she said wistfully. "There is no way that we could know all the goings-on in a castle this old or this large. The mysteries it holds….the mysteries it has been witness to…well that must span centuries. Fern, what do you think was happening in this very room, a century ago?"

"Daisy, this room is not the one that I am concerned about. Will you please listen to me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," her roommate rambled, staring at the door as if she could actually see the ghosts of Ravenclaws past.

"On my Prefect rounds, I went up the astronomy tower—"

"So that you could look up at the night sky and not smoke a cigarette because you promised me that it was simply a fleeting phase of insubordination and not a serious habit?"

She squinted at the suddenly alert girl. "Yes."

"Lovely, please continue."

"Well on my way to the tower, Neville appeared out of nowhere with Fred and George Weasley in tow."

She paused for dramatic effect but continued quickly as Daisy didn't seem intrigued in the slightest.

"When I asked what they were doing, the twins wouldn't say, and Nev gave me some excuse about astronomy homework but when I went up to the tower, the fog made seeing the stars impossible!"

Daisy gave her an exasperated look. "So they were in the tower smoking pot?"

"Ah very clever, my love, but no. See, I would have smelled it either on them or in the tower if that had been the case but there was nothing."

"Okay…so what were they doing up there?"

"Now that is the mystery. I don't think they were up there at all."

Daisy stared at her silently, raising her brow in a combination of confusion and doubt.

"And here's why…when I came back down, Padma and Mandy appeared in the hall behind me, looking like they were leaving something, just like Nev and the twins had but they weren't up in the tower with me."

"Okay…"

"Daisy, are you hearing me? They said they were doing Astronomy homework, just like Nev. On a cloudy night! Don't you think that's a little suspicious that five people appeared out of thin air in a seventh-floor hallway this evening?"

"Well it's definitely odd but I don't know if I'd call it suspicious…actually maybe it's a little abnormal….no….bizarre perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, yes, all of the above," she said quickly. "What I'm trying to say is that I think they're up to something."

"Your brother, the twins, and two Ravenclaws?"

"Yes."

"Orgy?"

"Oh Daisy, for fucks sake, don't put that image in my head."

"Well, it's the obvious choice of usage for a secret room in a distant hallway with people who might otherwise consider each other acquaintances."

"They didn't look nearly flustered enough for that to be the case and besides, Padma and Mandy couldn't ever like any of them."

Daisy nodded like she was pondering.

"And you're sure they couldn't just be a study group?"

"Well I mean sure, they could be but what room were they using?"

"Fern, what time is it?"

"What?"

"The time," Daisy repeated.

"8:45, why?"

"So it's nighttime?"

"Yes…"

"Meaning that it was dark…up there."

"There are lanterns and fireplaces and moonlight, Daisy, I know what I saw. Dim light cannot hide an entire door. Or room!"

"No need to shout, I'm only trying to guide you to an air-tight hypothesis. Are you sure your mystery isn't just because of a lack of light or perhaps a result of your lack of sleep?"

She thought back to the hall and all the times she'd been there. It wasn't often, but it was enough to know what was there.

Nothing.

"No, I'm sure there is something else going on."

"Alright…I'll entertain it," Daisy said, propping her head upon her hand. "Do you think it's something sinister?"

"No," she mused, sorting through all the possibilities in her head. "Perhaps more of a nuisance in progress but I still don't like it."

"Fern, it's probably harmless."

"I can't shake the feeling that it's not. I don't want Neville involved with those fucking Weasley twins, no matter what they're doing."

"You're going to smother that poor boy. They're his friends, let him have his fun!"

Fern glared at her level-headed friend and then laid back onto her bed in a huff.

"We'll see."

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Wonder Woman 1984

The first 3/4 of 2017’s Wonder Woman was my favorite film of that year. The last 1/4 was my least favorite film of that year. What can I say, I have a complicated relationship with the DCEU, and the part I keep getting disappointed by is the big smash-em-up, explosions everywhere, muddy mess of orange/blue filter in the “climactic showdown” between hero and villain. I just don’t have the patience for it anymore, and I was so hoping that the Jazzercise vibes of Wonder Woman 1984 would do something different. 

As it turns out, this movie was trying to warn me like so many stories that have come before - be careful what you wish for. Just how badly did my wish go bad? Well...

I’d already heard some questionable things about the movie before I tuned in, so my expectations were tempered but I guess it was on me. I should have known better than to wish for a story with reasonable pacing, some kind of consistent tone, villains with discernable motivation, or a Wonder Woman movie that was actually about fucking Wonder Woman. I’m not even mad as much as I am puzzled. That and tormented by Pedro Pascal’s manic televangelist energy in my dreams. 

Some thoughts:

I have never wanted to go anywhere as much as I want to in 2020, and the place I want to go more than any other is Themyscira. Love this first sequence. Why is the whole movie not about Themyscira??

If the Olympics were like this whole long Amazonian warrior triathlon, I would be WAY more into track and field. 

Also I legit don’t understand the problem with her taking the short path? Like, it’s there for a reason? She just caught up to her horse? Someone explain this to me.

So this mall...basically the hub of American commerce in the 80s that was practically printing money, it made it so fast...is secretly a front for antiquities trading on the black market? And these unorganized-ass dipshit criminals who seemingly just walked in off the street and decided to engage in some light robbery today are after antiquities? Sure, Jan.

Ohh I miss Waldenbooks so much!

This thwarting of crime sequence in the mall feels so...cheesy. Schlocky, almost. Like a 50s comic book come to life. I dunno, it just doesn’t feel like the tone I was expecting. In the context of the whole film, we really blew our action load in these first 2 sequences, and also this is the last point in the movie in which Diana actually resembles her character from the first film.

I would also be stammery and blushy when talking to Diana Prince for the first (and second) time, but I’m kinda getting a gay vibe from Barbara. This meet-cute + date is definitely playing up romantic vibes. Kristen Wiig is so good at characters like these - in less than 2 scenes, I have such a clear picture of who Barbara is, what she wants, what she fears, and that’s all down to Wiig’s choices. [ETA: This makes it all the more infuriating when Barbara suddenly is like “I want to be an apex predator” when nothing about her character’s reaction to getting positive attention indicates she would want to start shitting all over everyone else.]

Pedro Pascal is skeeving me out as our villain Max Lord, which really just shows his range, because normally I love him and find him wildly charming in everything. But he’s playing this oil baron creep to the max, as they would say in the parlance of the 80s, and it makes my skin crawl. 

The mechanics of how Steve Trevor returns are wildly confusing. Why is this other guy involved at all? Are we supposed to be ok with the idea of Diana fucking *some other dude’s body* without his consent just because Steve’s spirit/consciousness/whatever is inside the guy? Also that guy DEFINITELY got fired from his job after going AWOL for a whole week, right? 

I am thrilled with Steve’s clothes montage. One of my favorite things in any 80s film, and his enthusiasm really sells it.

I do really like Diana and Steve playing detective, following clues, crafting theories. In spite of the absolute dumbassery of how Steve came back, Chris Pine and Gal Gadot have incredible chemistry and I do find their scenes together delightful. 

I think that’s why it’s so frustrating to me the way their entire relationship was handled. If the whole point of the wish going bad is that it has a cost, wouldn’t it have been better, instead of making Diana weak, to have Steve slowly start to be more and more of an asshole - aka not the Steve Diana remembered and loved? Make her realize that the Steve she knew and loved is really gone and she has to stop letting his memory hold her hostage. Maybe his last moment of self-awareness would be realizing that this wasn’t who he really was, and she was better off just remembering who he was and moving on rather than trying to hold on to this thing that isn’t good for her? 

The sequence with the fireworks made me emotional. The only time I’ve ever been on a plane on the 4th of July was when I was coming back from a visit with my uncle in Dallas. He had flown me, my mom, and my grandma down for a whirlwind trip, and we flew back the night of the 4th. I got to see fireworks from above for the first time, and it felt so magical. My uncle passed away 2 months ago, and feeling that magic again (via Diana and Steve) made me miss him and all the adventure he brought into my life something fierce.

Am I supposed to be like...anti- the idea of Barbara absolutely kicking the shit out of this drunk catcaller who attempted to assault her earlier in the movie? It feels like the film wants us to be like “oh no that’s bad” but my empathy goes on vacation for attempted rapists. 

Like...did anyone do ANY kind of fact-checking on this script? The Maya haven’t been “wiped from the face of the earth” there are still 6 million of them living in Central and South America. Escalators were invented in the 1890s for fucks’ sake. PLANES IN THE 80S DONT WORK LIKE PLANES IN 1918. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT ALL THOSE SWITCHES DO STEVE. Also...just because the plane is invisible doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist anymore. Isn’t the whole point of radar to detect things that you can’t, y’know, SEE? Seriously, how many people fiddled with this script until it turned into an incomprehensible mess?

Did I Cry? OK yeah, I did when Diana and Steve had their conversation after they escaped the White House. But I feel like I should have cried more then, as well as earlier when Diana tells Steve that she only wants this one thing. I love Gal Gadot in this role, but I do wish her acting expressed a little more emotional depth and honesty for the moments like this that should really tug on the heartstrings.

I know Wonder Woman is bulletproof, but are we saying she’s also...immune to electricity? 

If there’s one thing that living through a global pandemic has taught me, it’s that we can’t rely on the inherent responsibility of every individual person to do the right thing in order to save their community (or the world). So the climax of this film really feels like a big ol’ fictional FUCK YOU to every person who has been quarantining since March as the US government twiddles their thumbs and relies on personal choice to lower infection rates. I know they made this film during 2019 and had no idea what would be coming, but this entire sequence was the most horrifying, short-sighted, offensive way to have good overcome evil I could imagine for a 2020 movie. “Just count on people to do the right thing and everything will be fine!” We’re WELL FUCKING PAST THAT, Diana. 

And maybe this is my debbie downer pessimistic ass, but the message “the world is a beautiful place the way it was” feels like some real bullshit. Do you mean the world is a flawed, complicated place where beautiful things exist DESPITE all the violence, inequality, and poverty? Ok, that I’ll buy, for sure. But “Everything was fine the way it was!” is uhh not what I would have gone with. That’s a first draft edit if ever I heard one. Seriously, how did this make it through MULTIPLE studio drafts and no one thought to point this out?  

I literally had to go back after the credits were over and rewind to figure out what happened to Pedro Pascal at the end. If I not only don’t care, but also can’t remember what happened to the villain at the end of the movie, that’s a big motherfucking problem.

I was giddily delighted by that first post-credits scene though! Probably the biggest moment of joy I felt during the film.

For being a Wonder Woman movie, it feels like there’s so little actual Wonder Woman IN the movie. The first film is rooted firmly in Diana finding her place in the world, understanding and coming into her power. This feels like she’s a bystander in her own life, and her most significant moments are always in the context of someone else’s narrative arc. And there’s nothing that comes even close to the breathless wonder of that No-Man’s-Land scene, aka one of the best superhero movie moments of all time. 

This doesn’t have the knowing wink of Aquaman or the nuanced character arcs of Birds of Prey. It doesn’t have the childish glee of Shazam! or any of the nonsensical grimdark bullshit of Zack Snyder’s entire ouvre. It feels like Wonder Woman 1984 suffers the same fate as its protagonist - a profound lack of presence or drive. Sure there are some fun sequences, and the actors are doing the best they can with a weak script, but it’s just not enough to save it. In a year where I saw so few contemporary films (focusing more on catching up on past films I’d missed), I can’t think of one that disappointed me more. 

[odysseywritings]

The Right Leader

A woman with dark brown hair and brown skin looked out the window in a white dome of a building overlooking the sunset-glazed green hills. Her name was Mary Rauda-Gold of the Union HQ for Earth. An ambitious, careful public servant, she earned trust from even initial naysayers. Her experience in community, business, and political spheres turned her to a qualified, eager role as the leader of the Earth Front.

She researched former presidents carefully before First Contact and after. Rauda-Gold had no special interest to bribe her, or a family in the public sphere to fear blackmail for. A rare human who achieved a bucket list full of chances early on in life. A ravenous student for history, she came into the presidency asking a question. Can one be a good leader and a good person to so many people? The books detailing the “greats” with their disconnect to the very people who elected them bombarded her with numbing dilemmas on human and alien issues alike.

Early on, she made a promise to avoid mistakes of President Grayson, whose committed attempts to be openly aggressive while privately appeasing aliens set course for turbulent relations between human and alien. This led to the first aliens invading Earth, the jellyfish-like Rizen, to learn important resources for acquiring and populated areas for destruction and enslavement.

For three decades, Earth had been the sole territory of one race. But the vastness of riches made it appealing to more. Thus, the scramble for Earth intensified as more uprooted flora and drained water. Not only the Rizen, but the cycloptic Corax, the cyborg Teknos, the coral-like Brantius, and others plundered Earth with the doctrine being that all aliens mustn't attack each other in the name of peace.

Fearing for the future of the planet, the fragmented states communicated as much as possible. This unity was a temporary yet urgent coalition of democratic leaders, autocrats, religious leaders, and researchers banded together to come up with ways to gain independence. No single leader engineered a clear path for victory, and the struggle for a constant idea made people weary and frustrated. In the midst of voices, the loudest prevailed.  

The urgent Long’s voice resonated with the crowd. Tiptoeing the wire that could lead to falling down the side of warmongering populism or tepid reforms, she raised enough fervor to unify people into tangible goals. Spy networks to spread fabricated war plans of one alien race against another. Technology taken from the slain aliens, initially unobtainable from their aerial superiority, could be learned and used against the original wielders. Within a short duration, covert attempts at fighting the invaders soon gave way to a snowball effect of more procured technology that included spacecraft. It was still lopsided, and the humans’ wit and knowledge of their home took years for momentum to fully hit the aliens’ mother planets.

A string of news carried across the stars as sympathetic aliens protested the wars and demanded Earth remain free. Opinions from the politicians carried the stench of condescension, saying humans could not rule themselves and needed assistance. But time soured that notion, with using mother planets’ money and lives to continue a hated invasion. Not long until then were other aliens combating each other for more dominance over Earth regions.

As extraterrestrial grips loosened and more technology scattered, Long and others could now engage in more significant guerrilla warfare. The snowball caused an avalanche of further embarrassment to the aliens. More were pulling out, focusing on the more dangerous alien adversaries. A galactic war broke out that involved weaponry that saw nuclear missiles being used as often as bullets. The destruction caused an alien race to force humanity to serve on their side. Long refused.

The Old World of space untangled as civilizations older than Earth’s fell in shambles. In the interim, rebellious aliens appeared on the surface to assist humans in recreating their technology. They were pessimistic of humanity, but its resolve in defying total subjugation gave them hope in toppling their imperialistic leaders.

Long succumbed to disease, but her legacy emboldened many despite her ruthlessness toward humans she thought were collaborating with invaders, real or imagined. The next successor in that region, was the soft and meticulous Slavik. Far from charismatic like Long, his calmness and stability sent a plan of continued technological learning and creation that was difficult to argue against aside from the most hawkish people or collaborators. Willing to be more trusting of alien rebels allowed him to gain more info on how they think and act, making it easier to predict further combat incursions.

This acceleration to a new space race was often narrow minded, and Slavik took other matters with apathy and relegated it to staff advisors. Still, he was honest about his goals and was wary of becoming aggressors on earth or in space. He was concerned about protection and elf-reliance, and that boosted their capabilities as aliens continued slaughtering each over for so long that Earth was forgotten about.

As a the tech boom led to force fields, anti-craft weaponry, spacecraft, and peacetime aids such as machines and medicines to repair tissues, the relative security of Earth led to various social concerns rising for people who had time to breathe and think. The foreigners who stayed and aided humans were treated with growing disdain as their efforts were taken for granted in post-war highs. Tensions bubbled as accusations of aliens taking up resources, not working hard enough to earn their stay, or dismantling the societies grew.

Various leaders like President Dickson used these tensions to distract from other matters as he benefited from rising power. Others like the dovish Jacobs made amends and wanted to pursue good relations with the now war-torn alien civilizations, yet his efforts did not go far enough to make lasting benefits due to making sure the remaining alien superpower would not see him as weak or naive.

What followed were a series of leaders who drifted further away from goodwill policies and proper rebuilding of Earth to focus on more weaponry  and acquisition of other worlds for resources, whether or not they were inhabited. Now the conquerors, humans were split between two futures. Security out of supremacy? Freedom out of trust?

At the height of Earth’s dominance, the Union’s people elected Rauda-Gold. She promised to  be firm in national and human interests, standing strong against numerous foes internally and externally. Born in a generation used to surplus, relative galactic safety, and harboring no knowledge of alien oppression, she listened to reasonable qualms without strong bias. Her values were for humanity and earth, with the rest being flexible.

Rauda-Gold steadily relinquished control of planets with native inhabitants to the detriment of the national interests of the already rich. The goodwill took years to fully settle, but it was a start toward a transparent galaxy. A rusting minority segment of the planet Teknos were given medical supplies and aid during a brutal civil war, but she denied arming them to avoid a full fledged involvement. As the Teknos government continued its atrocities, Rauda-Gold cut off trade with a grain that was only mass produced in Earth. With the civil war dwindling resources, the government called for a ceasefire and to discuss with the minority in earnest.

The most perilous occasion was when the Rizen, that old enemy of humanity, invaded planet after planet. Medicine, technology, and weaponry spread to Rizen opposition. Frozen assets and embargoes were mere dents in the war machine oiled by the lie of a former glory. She would not risk human or alien lives unless she herself would fight, yet her age and symbolic importance would make her role limited lest she be captured as a hostage. She communicated as much as possible to troops through camera drones, but it never felt close enough to being there and getting a sense of the trouble. As more atrocities continued, including the gaseous bombs that filled cities afar and at home, people clamored for war each day. She waited and talked to advisors, no matter how much time she spent grieving in private.

She would not create a draft and only allowed a strictly volunteer service to fight. With the utmost protection, the soldiers helped beat back the tide of the Rizen until they were beaten down and succumbed to treaty settling. Still, lives were lost. A fact that would haunt her even if the galaxy was spared further bloodshed. Rauda-Gold did all she could to pay for veterans and their families the same way she did with victims of natural calamities.

Earth’s respect soared, and the withdrawal of colonies led to the planet being self-reliant with a boost in trade from allied planets. The federation of planets were motivated, or goaded for some weaker tyrannical leaders, to endorse a stronger policy of life-form rights. She wanted to be inspiring like Long, prosperous like Slavik, and focused on honest peace like Jacobs. Aware of their shortcomings and their environments, Rauda-Gold knew she would be compared and dissected in the future by historians of all species.

But the issue of war always stabbed at her. At what point does a war become just? The idea of a pacifist president split by an idea of a savior president. The bloodless leader replaced by the hero leader. She planned to resign after her term ended, yet she had more time to make peace with such a choice and image. She contributed to diplomacy more than before, and made sure to rebuild bombed houses with her own hands. Rauda-Gold felt the charred substance of steel and wood and alien materials. All reminders of what a perfect leadership could have avoided. But such desires must be tempered by the environments they dwell in. New generations of alien and human children can breathe and enjoy life in a galaxy more principled against war. Yet she fears her action may inspire future leaders to ignore all that and lionize her war efforts as something to be achieved wholesale without nuance or care. An ongoing fear she must mete out as the twilight of her shining dream dims.