#she told the principal that i cut their library time short because i didn’t want to do story time?? when that isn’t what happened at all

[pinkfey]

i don’t think i’m built to work with teachers in the school district 😔

[marvelslut16]

Prank gone wrong

Prompt number: 19 “I can’t do this anymore”

Fandom: It

Paring: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6k (this was supposed to be short!)

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Mentions of domestic abuse/domestic violence- nothing graphic. asshole Richie. Angst but ends fluffy

A/N: Oof I’ve been gone for ages, I’m sorry guys. But here’s day one of fictober, so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up and this will motivate me to write regularly again. I’m not sure if I love this one or not. I liked the idea when I started and then it took some turns and this is what I ended up with while writing between zoom classes, so sorry if it sucks. I added the second gif cause it’s closer to the age in the story. 

It all started as a stupid prank, a way to get back at Greta for years and years of torture, you never thought it would end in you losing a friend. Just over three months ago Richie agreed to Bev’s plan, take Greta out on a few dates and then publicly humiliate her- give her a taste of her own medicine. But to everyone's surprise, it lasted way longer than a few dates and there was no end in sight. Worst of all it seemed that Richie was actually falling for her- he would defend her any chance he got and even started ditching the losers to spend time with her and her friends. 

It was no surprise to you that Greta fell for Richie, he’s funny, sweet, and he’s aged well. His head has grown into his coke bottle glasses, he still wears hawian shirts but now he has a leather jacket over them constantly- a leather jacket that the two of you picked out together. There is no better than one Richie Tozier, and your feelings are getting harder and harder to deny. Your crush on the trashmouth developed back in middle school- the summer Pennywise reigned terror, but through the years your crush turned into something stronger- by senior year you knew you loved him. Halfway into said school year every loser, besides Richie of course, knew of your feelings for him. The pitied glances they would send your way were almost suffocating. 

Richie is late to lunch yet again, probably making out with Greta in the hallway, so each of you are using this time to talk about the personal hell her and her friends have created for each of you today. You go last, quickly giving them a rundown of your encounter with her in the bathroom, where she threatened you to stay away from ‘her Richie’ and that you would live to regret it if you didn’t. She even ripped one of your textbooks out of your hands, dropping it into the disgusting toilet water- calling you a worthless slut on her way out. 

“Greta is such a bitch!” you complain to your friends, mindlessly pushing around the mush they call lunch at Derry high with the cheap plastic spork they provide. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend that way,” Richie’s voice is calm and even- lacking the normal excitement and joking lilt to it. Your eyes widen in horror at him having heard you, then they narrow at how genuine his defense of her is. 

“Richie, c’mon, let it go,” Eddie pleads, glancing between your shocked and hurt face and Richie’s angry one. 

“No Eddie, I’m so sick of (Y/N) talking shit about my girlfriend!” you whip around in your seat and look at him in shock. 

“Richie what the hell?” you rise out of your seat so he won’t look down on you literally and figuratively anymore. He cocks his eyebrow, head dropping to the side as he crosses his arms and lets out a huff of annoyance. “Ya know what? I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what anymore?” Richie doesn’t drop the cocky attitude, making the next words out of your mouth slightly less painful. 

“Be your friend,” there’s a collective gasp from your friends. Richie’s face morphs into shock and sadness for a split second before hardening and sending you another glare. “Not when you’re dating her. She’s changing you Richie!” 

“Greta was right about you, you are a bitch,” your breath catches in your throat and you fight the tears that well up in your eyes. Richie’s glare is unflinching as you stare him in the eye, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t regret a single word that he said. The murmuring from the table behind you stops the moment the words leave his mouth, they all stare at their friend in shock. 

“Fine, then you’ll never have to deal with this bitch again,” you spin around and grab your backpack and lunch tray. “Fuck you Richard Tozier!” you dump your tray of mush into the trach on your way out of the cafeteria nad away from that stupid boy you somehow fell for. 

“What did you just do?” Stan is the first one to regain the use of his voice, he’s glaring at Richie as the boy takes your recently vacated seat. 

“I’m sick of her attitude towards Greta,” he tries to defend, shocked when all of his friends level him with matching glares. 

“W-wh-what h-ha-ha-happen-ned to th-he pr-pr-prank-k?” Bill’s recently improved stuttering growing worse as he grows anxious at the turn of events between his friends. 

“Greta isn’t the bad one here, we’ve been rude to her all of these years!” Richie once again tries to effectively defend his girlfriend.

“She wrote loser on my cast!” Eddie practically screeches before he goes into an anxiety attack, beleving it’s an asthma attack he takes two puffs from his inhaler.

“Her and her friends dumped wet garbage on me,” Bev adds, quieter than Eddie. 

“That was in middle school,” Richie rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. 

“I thought you were in love with (Y/N) before the whole prank, that you did it to get over her,” Eddie says slowly this time, having calmed down from moments prior. 

“Greta helped me realize I never loved (Y/N), I was doing what was expected after years of friendship,” the losers stare at him- open mouthed and gaping at Richie’s stupidity. 

“She attacked (Y/N) in the bathroom this morning,” Mike tries to reason with his brainwashed friend. 

“No, (Y/N) was lying to you guys. She attacked Greta earlier, not the other way around. She screamed at Greta to break up with me or she’d regret it, and then dumped her books in the toilet and called her slut.”

“Greta did that to (Y/N), you dumbass!” Bev grows increasingly angry, at Richie and herself for coming up with the stupid prank. “I was in there with her, Greta’s convinced (Y/N)’s in love with you so she wants to rip you apart. Do you honestly believe (Y/N) would do something like that?”

“Shit!” Richie slams his fists on the table, causing most of the cafeteria to turn and looking at him briefly before going back to their individual tasks. Everything Greta had blamed on you in the past three months comes rushing back and he realizes that they’re all out of character but in character for Greta. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that Greta was telling the truth so he had a reason to stop being in love with his best friend- he was too scared to tell you because you’re the only person that could actually hurt him. 

“(Y/N) (L/N) to the principal's office immediately,” the voiceover the intercom cracks showing the age of the ancient system. 

“Richie?” Stan isn’t sure he wants to know the truth as he asks the question. 

“I told Greta to tell the principal,” his voice is oddly quiet and broken, definitely out of character for the jokester trashmouth. 

“You fucking idiot!” Bev seethes, staring Richie down. They’re the only two that know the truth about your father. 

--

You quickly get up from your place in the library and walk down the empty halls to get to the principal's office. Once you arrive the secretary gives you a dirty look, causing you to sink back and the pit of anxiety in your gut to grow. Greta sends you a triumphant smirk before going back to fake sobbing as she walks out of the principal's office and past you. 

You feel like you're going to vomit as you walk into the principal's office behind him, the look on his face says you’ll get after school detention for at least a week! Whatever lies Greta told about you are clearly being believed by him and the secretary. 

“You’re a good student Miss. (L/N), so why have you been harassing Miss. Keene?” he crosses his arms over his chest, they rest lightly on top of his bulging gut. 

“I haven’t-” you try to defend, but he puts up a hand to stop you. 

“She alleges it’s because you have feelings for her boyfriend Mr. Tozier and you’re upset that she chose her over you.”

“That’s not true-” his glare cuts you off this time. 

“Today alone you threw her books in the toilet, threatened her for being with Richie, and called her a slut,” the words today alone stand out to you, how many lies did she tell? 

“She did that to me! Not the other way around!” you try desperately for him to believe you. 

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” he raises a brow much like Richie did in the  cafeteria, Greta has both of them wrapped around her finger and against you. 

“Because no ones ever done anything! She’s been torturing me since we were in grade school and she’s never got in trouble! A freshman came to you last week saying Greta was bullying her and you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to suspend you for the rest of the week.” he says firmly, no room for negotiation or pleading. 

“That’s four days!” you cry out incredulously.

“Do you want to make it longer?” when you don’t respond he continues talking. “Your father is on his way, go get your books from your locker and leave school property.” 

You hear someone call your name from down the hall as you grab all of your textbooks from your locker, trying to shove all five thick books into your bag. You ignore the voice up until it’s right next to you and you realize it’s Richie trying to plead for forgiveness. 

“Lose my number, and while you’re at it forget my name. Stay the fuck away from me Tozier!” Your outburst grabs the attention of the other students walking to their next class, everyone shocked by the inseparable duo of Tozier and (L/N) fighting. You slam your locker shut with a loud bang, heading for the door and away from him calling your name.

--

Monday comes agonizingly slowly, but when it does you're sitting with Bev in the bathroom during third period, both of you telling your teachers you don’t feel good. 

“How bad was it?” she flicks her lighter and lights her cigarette, standing next to the window so she can blow the smoke outside. 

“Worse than it's ever been,” you feel ghost pains on your back from where your dad's leather belt met your flesh for the past six days. “Since Richie didn’t sneak in to help clean them this time I think I may have an infection.”

“He broke up with Greta,” Bev changes the subject, she knows you only trust Richie enough to see the damage your father inflicts, so she doesn’t bother to ask to check on it.” 

“Good for him,” you stare down at the gross linoleum tile under your beat up Chuck Taylor’s. Richie had promised to take you away from your father the moment you two graduated, he’d been promising it for years, even while he was with Greta, but now you aren’t holding out hope for the promise. 

“He’s been miserable without you,” the bell signaling the end of the period saves you from formulating an answer. Bev quickly flushes her cigarette butt and the two of you head to the cafeteria, you’re a little worried about sitting with the losers after your fight with Richie. Bev grabs your hand and gently pulls you to the table when she notices your hesitance. You catch up with the rest of the losers, minus Richie who isn’t in the lunchroom which you’re oddly sad about, finding out about tests and break ups you missed while you were suspended. The loud ear splitting sound of feedback causes the entire cafeteria to cover their ears and look to the microphone stand in the front of the room. Richie is standing in the front holding the microphone, cringing slightly at the loud sound. No lunch ladies run to grab the microphone from him, meaning he got permission to do whatever it is he’s about to do. His wild curls bounce as he nervously shifts from foot to foot as he looks around the cafeteria until he locks eyes with you. You can’t look away from him so you miss the smiles the losers give each other and the high five Bev and Ben share. 

“(Y/N) I don’t know what I could ever say to you to get you to forgive me, I can never forgive myself for hurting you,” he talks into the microphone, everyone looking between the two of you, but neither of you seem to notice anyone but each other. “I know I embarrassed you, so maybe if I embarrass myself in front of everyone you’ll forgive me a little bit. (Y/N), I never meant to hurt you, I only agreed to the prank because I wanted to forget you. No- fuck that doesn’t sound right.

“I’ve been in love with you since middle school and I knew you could never love me too, even when Ed’s told me you did I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to forget my feelings for you because I never wanted to hurt you, so I agreed to the prank. But I hurt you anyway because I let Greta get in my head, so I even failed the damn prank. But I love you so fucking much (Y/N) and I’m sick of running from these damn feelings. All I want to do is take you away from this hellhole after we graduate, and go to NYU together like we’ve planned since Freshman year. I love you (Y/N) (L/N), and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing to you about how shitty I was if you give me a second chance.” 

Your body stands up on autopilot, and you don’t realize you’re walking towards him until your face to face. Lifting your hand you gently push a curl that fell in front of his eye away and tuck it behind his ear, he leans his head into your hand as a lunch lady comes and takes the microphone out his hand grinning largely at teen love. You struggle to find words, so you wrap both your hands around the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him into a kiss. It isn’t your first kiss, Bill had dared you two to kiss sophomore year in a game of truth or dare in the barrens, but this kiss is different. These aren't two kids afraid of the adult feelings that were overcoming them, these are two almost adults finally giving into the most powerful and amazing feeling in existence. Richie makes sure to keep his hands away from your back, he’ll clean out your cuts later, instead he tangles his fingers into your hair pulling you in deeper. Before the kiss can go too far you pull back giggling as Richie follows your face trying to kiss you again. 

“I love you too,” you rest your forehead on his, turning your giggling face into a mock serious one. “But you’re on thin ice mister.” 

“I love you more,” he caresses your cheek and you grin happily, laughing at his antics when he starts speaking again. “Than I love Eddie’s mom.” the entire cafeteria is whooping and hollering at your kiss, but non louder than your losers. Well, everyone except Greta, who lets out a high pitched huff and storms out of the cafeteria. 

“I think the prank ended up working out,” you giggle, lightly nipping at Richie’s thumb as it grazes over your lower lip.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[hutchhitched]

The Marrow of the Story

Written by: @hutchhitched​ 

Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic and the world slowly ground to a halt. This is the eighth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. I wrote most of this a few months ago before getting stuck on some transitions. Since then, the teenage daughter of one of my closest friends has been diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and must undergo a bone marrow transplant this spring. As such, this story became much more personal than a prompt. I’m sure I’ve taken some liberties with the medical aspects and ethics of this story. They are intended for story-telling purposes only. K, I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt.

  “Ms. Everdeen, I need your signature,” my administrative assistant says briskly as she enters my office.

 “What’s this for?” I ask as I scribble my signature on the form.

 She takes the manila folder and hands me another, indicating that I need to sign it, too. “Maintenance orders. The library and those lockers in the freshman wing that don’t lock properly.”

 “Got it. Thanks.”

 “Oh, and you have a call waiting on line three. I told him you were busy, but…” She shrugs as she walks out of the room, and I sigh and drop down in my desk chair. It’s been a really long day.

 “Ms. Everdeen, Panem North. How can I help you?”

 A rumbly, entirely masculine voice reverberates through the line, and I wrap the phone cord around my left index finger. Even before he’s spoken three words, I’m already impatient for the call to end.

 “Ms. Everdeen. It’s Peeta Mellark. How are you today?”

 I narrow my eyes and resist the urge to slam the phone down in the receiver. Mr. Mellark is not my favorite person. He’s the principal at Panem South, my high school’s cross-town rival, and he and I have always clashed. It might be his smug arrogance when he explains his educational philosophy, or it could be the way he surveys me and then turns away in dismissal every time I see him. Whatever it is, I’ve never been able to stand him, and it’s obvious he feels the same if our interactions at every systemwide meeting and educational conference is any indication. My greatest fantasy consists of him being fired in disgrace. A close second is his forced transfer to another school—any school, so long as it’s out of state and I never have to see him again.

 “What do you want, Mellark?” I snap. I have so little patience today I’m afraid I might actually use profanity if he doesn’t hang up within ten seconds.

 “Doing that well, huh? Always good to hear a friendly voice when I have to contact you.”

 “I thought you were on medical leave,” I say with little compassion. It’s not my finest moment, I know that, but I really loathe this man.

 “I am,” he admits. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. I know we’re not exactly friends, but—”

 “Friends?” I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I don’t even like you. There’s no way I’d be your friend. Not even if you were dying, and I had the cure.”

 Silence stretches across the line, and I cover my face at what I’ve said. The words are rather unforgivable, and I open my mouth to apologize when he says something I don’t expect to hear.

 “Well, I guess that answers my question. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 “What question? You didn’t ask me anything,” I say, exasperated.

 He sighs heavily, and I almost throw the phone across the room. “Katniss—sorry, Ms. Everdeen—I don’t really know how to tell you this, so I’ll just ask you to check your email. I think you’ll find something there from me. It’s from my personal account, so you might have to look in your spam folder. It’ll explain everything. Have a good day.”

 And then he hangs up without even bothering to say goodbye. That complete and utter bastard hung up on me. I mean, I wanted him to leave me alone, but he could have at least had the courtesy to say goodbye before cutting off the conversation.

 I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t have time to deal with it at the moment. The last bell of the day is about to ring, and I hurry from my office to oversee students loading onto buses and wandering the parking lot as cars zip in and out of traffic. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking parts of my days, and I’ve almost forgotten Mr. Mellark’s phone call by the time I make it back to my office. If I’m lucky, I can finish within the hour and get home before dark. I hate it when the sunlight hours are so short the day quits before I do.

 I’m just about to shut down my computer when I remember the aggravating phone call. I consider forgetting about it and walking away, but something tells me to open my junk folder and see what that twit’s request is. And then I see it, and I want to throw up.

 Dear Ms. Everdeen,

I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I’ve always admired your ferocity and willingness to give everything you have for your students. Compassion in education isn’t hard to find, but the way you fight for your school, faculty, staff, and students has been inspiring to watch over the past few years.

I mean that. It’s not a ploy to win you over, even though I have a gigantic favor to ask of you.

You might remember that I’ve been on medical leave several times over the past few years. It’s difficult doing my job when I’m ill, so I’ve tried to hide the significance of my condition. The truth is I have a rare bone marrow disease that, without a transplant, is terminal.

Since this is not official business, I’m writing from my personal email, but the favor I’m asking does require your professional approval. With the upcoming blood drive in our district, health clinics have volunteered to be on hand to administer tests for the bone marrow registry. That would streamline the process and allow potentially myself and countless others in need of a transplant a match from someone who might not otherwise volunteer to be tested.

Please consider allowing your school to be part of this. It might save a life.

With admiration, Peeta Mellark

 ****

 Of course I end up giving approval. I’m not a monster, no matter what Mr. Mellark thinks. In good faith, I’m tested as well, and two weeks later, I get a phone call telling me I’m a match for someone in need. By a dramatic, ironic twist of fate, it’s Peeta Mellark who needs my marrow. Thankfully, I’m able to take some time to process, and it’s torture as I weigh the pros and cons.

 A few days pass before I work up the courage to call him. I haven’t heard from him since the phone call letting me know about the email. I’m sure his health takes up much of his energy, but I’m oddly saddened by his absence. I’m also angry with him, but that’s not fair. It’s not his fault that the favor he asked of me will result in me giving up a part of my body and DNA.

 “Hello?”

 “So, what is it you have exactly?” I ask and wince at how detached and unfeeling I sound. I’m anything but that. My squeezing heart is more than enough evidence to prove otherwise. Still, I’m barely holding it together. I can’t let go of the control or I might collapse, and then what?

 “Ms. Everdeen?”

 “Katniss. If you can ask me to consider donating bone marrow, then you can call me by my first name.”

 “Okay, Katniss.” There’s a long pause before he continues. He’s tentative when he finally says, “So, you decided to participate on top of allowing the clinic access to your school?”

 “I did, and I’ll repeat. What is it you have exactly?”

 The words sound just as cold the second time, and I hold my breath until he finally answers.

“I have something called aplastic anemia. I’ve had it since college. Been treating it with blood transfusions for the past decade or so,” he explains with no trace of self-pity or false bravado. His tone is pragmatic, which is almost heart-breaking considering what he’s facing. “There aren’t too many of us with AB- blood in the world, so, I don’t know. When I saw the option of getting more involvement, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask for help. Directly, I mean. Instead of waiting for the system to work. The worst you could say was no, right?”

 “I’ve already said no to you several times,” I remind him, and he chuckles in response.

 “Yeah. You’ve fought me on every philosophical disagreement we’ve ever had.”

 “That’s because you have really stupid ideas about what works sometimes.”

 His chuckle morphs into a full-fledged laugh, and it makes my lips twitch. “You reject me with aplomb, too. Thanks for not holding back.”

 A grin quirks at the corner of my mouth. He’s funny, I realize. I guess I probably could have figured that out earlier if I’d ever bothered to listen to his words instead of merely hating him.

 “Well, you know. I’m not very good at making friends.”

 The words catch in my throat as I say them. It’s a true statement, but I hadn’t comprehended how much it bothered me until I heard them out loud. I don’t sound matter-of-fact like he does. Loneliness and sadness echo in my voice. I could take some lessons on self-pity from Peeta Mellark, apparently.

 “I’d like to be your friend,” he says softly.

 I blink away tears because my insides have melted into a very unprofessional puddle of goo. It’s a good thing we’re not interacting about anything regarding our jobs.

 “You just want my bone marrow,” I mumble, and my heart jumps at his soft chuckle.

 “Your bone marrow?”

 I inhale shakily and bite my lip. Finally, when I’ve regained a semblance of control, I answer in a quiet admission, “I’m a match.”

 “You’re my match?” His disbelief echoes across the line, and it breaks my heart to hear the trepidatious undercurrent in his tone.

 “I am.”

 “Oh…”

 “So, you want my bone marrow.”

 Silence stretches between us, and I hear rustling before he responds carefully. “I’ll start with that. We can talk about what else I’d like to have later.”

 His voice is warm and soothing, and I feel myself softening. I’ve known that I’m going to be his donor since I knew he needed me, but it feels more personal now. More like he’s my responsibility, my ally, and not my enemy.

 “Okay.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks tentatively, “Okay?”

 “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

 There’s almost no sound from his end of the line, just his breath in my ear. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling. It must be a massive amount of relief mixed with a hundred other emotions. Like me, I’m sure he hates asking for help, and to have to request it from me must have been terrible for him. I don’t want him to feel beholden. He doesn’t deserve to have to be grateful for the rest of his life just because he needs something I can willingly give.

 “Thank you,” he finally says, and the simplicity of it takes my breath away.

 I wonder exactly what it is he’s thanking me for—his life? For being willing to grant him a favor? For not being a complete bitch to him like I have been for the past three years? It’s the least I can do for someone who’s dying. I can’t be responsible for hitting him when he’s down.

 “Sure. Yeah, let me know the specifics. Or the hospital can or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

 I end the call before he can answer, or maybe he does and I just don’t hear it. I can’t bear to listen to his voice anymore. I don’t know how much I’m going to have to actually see him to complete this process, but I’m suddenly nervous. He’s melted me with just an email and a few phone conversations. If I’m in the same room with him, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up the façade of hating him, and I need to. I can’t afford to care about him.

 The next few weeks pass in a flurry of meetings with medical professionals and preparing for the surgery. I don’t see Peeta, and he doesn’t contact me. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, or maybe he doesn’t have any interest in actually being my friend, after all. I don’t allow myself to think about why that disappoints me. Instead, I tell myself that he’s likely dealing with his own illness and concentrating on getting as healthy as possible so he can recover quicker following the procedure. Maybe I’m just making excuses for him, but I remind myself that making a friend isn’t why I’m doing this. He doesn’t owe me anything.

 Suddenly, it’s the day of the surgery, and I’m terrified. I haven’t ever been on anesthesia before, barely been sick, and never had an IV. Now, I’m about to go under the knife for my mortal enemy. Okay, that’s overdramatic and hyperbolic, but I’m allowed that on the morning of a procedure that will result in me being cut open and part of my hip scraped away. I comfort myself by imagining the simple pleasures I’ll indulge in afterward—an overly sugared hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, some of those cheese buns I never allow myself to buy, highlights from a hairdresser instead of a box. Surely, I deserve those after opening myself up to…

 I shut down that mode of thinking and concentrate on getting to the hospital. As nervous as I am, I manage to stop thinking and let the medical professionals do their jobs. Before I can worry about anything else, I’m on a bed and being wheeled to surgery. When I count backwards, all I see are Peeta Mellark’s deep blue eyes shining at me.

 ****

 I blink awake to a concerned gaze. My sister’s next to my bed when I wake up and greets me with a smile.

 “Hello, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the world.”

 “Little Duck,” I slur with a lazy smile. “Hiiiii!”

 “How do you feel?”

 “Very fuzzy,” I admit after a sporadic inventory of myself. “And my ass hurts.”

 “I hear that happens when somebody cuts you open. I could be wrong.”

 My bubble of laughter is almost giddy, clearly an aftereffect of the anesthesia, but I still manage to ask the really important question. “When can I go home?”

 “A few hours, I think. Outpatient surgery, for the win!”

 “I’m already thinking about how long I have to sponge bathe instead of showering. An incision on my rear end is a new one for me.”

 “I bet the guy you’re giving your marrow to would be happy to help you. He must be pretty grateful,” Prim said slyly, and I roll my eyes.

 “I’m guessing he’s more concerned about not dying, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

 “I looked him up, you know. He’s very pretty.”

 “He’s also an arrogant ass.”

 “Speaking of arrogant asses…”

 “Hey! I thought I’d gotten past being maligned by the Everdeen girls.” Gale Hawthorne’s deep bass booms from the hospital room door. “Hey, Catnip.”

 “Gale! ’S so good to see you.”

 “Well, Prim called. I thought maybe I should cut my business trip short and pay you a visit.”

 I reach for him, and he crosses to me quickly. His hand wraps around mine, and the warmth grounds me. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my childhood best friend, and his familiarity makes me feel like I might be able to handle anything. They both keep me occupied until I’m released and then help me get settled at home. Gale and I sit on the couch and catch up while Prim makes a run for takeout.

 “I couldn’t believe it when Prim called to tell me you were doing this,” he says. “Especially not for the guy you’ve been bitching to me about for the past few years.”

 “I haven’t been—”

 “I’m going to stop you right there. You have, and we both know nobody takes up that much space in your brain unless there’s something there.”

 “There’s nothing between us,” I insist and grunt when he nudges my shoulder.

 “Then maybe you should figure out if there could be. I mean, you have a vested interest in the man. You have a lot in common professionally. He’s going to live a long life because of you. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were part of it.”

 “He’s in a bubble for a few months. Recovery. No germs. All that.” I’m making excuses, and he knows it. He looks at me with pity, and I want to smack him.

 “Katniss, give the guy a chance. From what you’ve told me, he’s into you. On top of the fact that he made arrangements for that massive bouquet of lilies and wildflowers over there.” He motions to the vase we brought home from the hospital. The note provides thanks for saving his life and an apology for flowers being inadequate as repayment.

 “He’s not—”

 “Give him a chance.”

 Gale’s words wash over me, and it’s like all the painful moments and deep bouts of loneliness resurface at once. No matter what’s happened between Peeta and me, I have a connection to him now that’s deeper than our usual snipping and snark. Being forced to think about him as someone with real hopes and dreams and challenges has softened me to him, but I barely know him. Why does everyone assume he wants anything more than he’s already received?

 Prim returns with food, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I promise Gale I’ll think about what he’s said as I recover, but that’s only to get him off my back. Yet, as the days pass, I can’t get Peeta Mellark out of my head. Now that I’ve saved his life, he’s got a hold on me.

 ****

 I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I expect anything from him. I’m just stopping by to see how he is, and that’s it. No expectations, no nothing. Just an attempt to make sure he’s feeling better after the transplant. I shouldn’t even be able to see him, but I called the hospital, explained the situation, and found out I’ve been approved for visiting for the past couple of weeks. Peeta must have added me to his approved list, which makes me remarkably happy. It’s been a month since the bone marrow transplant, and Peeta’s body seems to be accepting it with no problem.

 Besides, no one can fault me for checking in on a sick colleague. It’s practically expected as part of my job. Except, that’s a lie. I’m not checking on anyone else who calls into work sick, but, then again, no one else called in because they had a disease that resulted in some of my own body inserted into them.

 Which sounds dirty and definitely not what I should be thinking as I knock on his hospital door and peer into the room.

 “Katniss!” he says as his beautiful blue eyes light up. “Please, come in.”

 “I, uh… I just thought I’d check on you. Make sure my bone marrow is behaving. Not giving you any trouble.”

 Oh, hell. I sound like an idiot.

 “Doing beautifully. It’s almost like it knows it’ll be in trouble if it acts up. Must be the principal coming out in us.”

 “Behavior issues are the least favorite part of my job.”

 “Same,” he chuckles and waves me to the chair. “Sit, if you have a minute. I’d like to thank you—”

 “No,” I insist. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

 “Katniss, you saved my life,” he sighs. “The least you can do is let me thank you properly. Let me take you dinner sometime or something. In fact, yes. I need to do that. No expectations, no nothing. Just dinner.”

 I feel an uncomfortable pang in my stomach as I hear my own thoughts repeated back to me. It’s almost like he can see inside my brain, and that’s terrifying.

 “Fine,” I concede. “Dinner, but not until you’re completely recovered. I don’t want to be cause for a setback.”

 “I can handle that,” he agrees and then gives me a soft, beautiful smile so incredibly shy that it feels like he’s only ever shown it to me.

 I don’t even want to think about why I’m floating as I leave the hospital.

 ****

 It’s another few months before Peeta finally insists he’s well enough and calls and invites me to the dinner I agreed to when he was in the hospital. His recovery has been rapid, and I hear through the grapevine he’s back at work and seemingly cured. I don’t know enough about his disease to know if he’s healing faster than normal or not, but I breathe easier when I hear the news. That is, until the phone rings.

 “Katniss Everdeen. My savior,” he says when I answer.

 “Oh, please don’t,” I gulp. “I’m no savior.”

 He chuckles at my discomfort but it’s clear it’s not with any sort of malice. “Sorry. That might have been hyperbole.”

 “You think?”

 “Maybe. Maybe not. I would like to see when you’re free for dinner. You’ve put me off long enough. I demand satisfaction. I mean, my belly does. In other words, I need food, and now that I feel well enough to consume copious amounts of it, I’d really love some company as I do that. Who better than the woman who made it happen?”

 He’s so charming it makes my toes curl, which is not at all what I want. Because how am I supposed to resist that adorable smirk I know is plastered across his face when he’s sitting across the table from me and plying me with delicious food? He’s supposed to be my nemesis, and I’m not strong enough to deny him when he’s not only good and kind but also a survivor of a rare disease. I mean, that’s not even playing fair.

 “You don’t have to buy me dinner,” I start, but he interrupts before I can get any farther.

 “If I remember correctly, you agreed to this back in the hospital, and I know you always keep your word. I wore you down, and you said you’d go with me. Don’t go backing out on me now,” he chides. His tone remains light-hearted as he speaks, but I detect a hint of hurt below the surface. My willingness to concur seems important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the last thing I want to do is break the fragile truce that had somehow emerged between us.

 “I’ve got some back to school things coming up, so my nights are pretty full,” I protest feebly, but he just waits patiently until I relent. “Fine. Next Thursday. Does that work?”

 “Of course.”

 “Don’t you have meetings, too? You haven’t resigned, and I haven’t heard about it, have you?”

 “No, nothing like that,” he laughs. “I’ve just been given stringent orders from Superintendent Crane to take it easy. My assistant principal is covering anything at night until October.”

 “Lucky you.”

 “I have a good staff,” he deflects. “Next Thursday. I’ll pick you up.”

 “No! I can meet—”

 But he’s already disconnected the call. I don’t even bother to wonder how he’ll figure out my address. I don’t put anything past him anymore. Other than the life-threatening illness, he seems to have beaten, Peeta Mellark has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known.

 ****

 “And then I lowered my hand and answered him in the most serious tone possible. I could hardly keep a straight face because I had fake buck teeth in. The poor kid looked at me like I was insane, but he didn’t ever wear the vampire teeth in class again.”

 I can’t help myself as I giggle at Peeta’s story. I never giggle. It isn’t like me at all, but Peeta’s so funny and disarming over dinner, regaling me with story after story of strange behavior modifications he’d tried when he was an assistant principal and mostly in charge of discipline issues.

 “I’ve gotta admit,” he says ruefully, “I don’t really miss that part of the job now that I’m head principal.”

 “No, I can imagine you wouldn’t,” I agree with a smile.

 Lifting my wine glass, I look at him over the rim and take a sip of the pinot. I dreaded this dinner all week, but it’s been the highlight of a pretty rough few days. I certainly wasn’t expecting to enjoy his company so much, not even after getting to know him a little bit better during his recovery. I thought his charm might wear off at some point, but he just gets more and more disarming the longer we talk. If I didn’t know better, I might think I actually like him, but that’s ridiculous. I’m just glad to have company over dinner. That’s all this is.

 My cheeks flush when Peeta grins at me and sits back in his chair. He’s kept up a steady stream of witty repartee throughout the evening, but now he merely surveys me as the soft sounds of the dining room echo around us. It’s almost intimate.

 “I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying this,” he finally says. “And how grateful I am for what you did for me. I know it wasn’t an easy choice, but you… You’re an amazing woman, Katniss Everdeen. I’m in your debt forever.”

 I don’t know how to answer him because I can tell he’s completely sincere. He’s not gushing or trying to butter me up. He’s genuine in his words and actions, and I’m stuck feeling guilty for treating him so poorly before his illness threw us together.

 “You really don’t have to thank me anymore,” I insist. “It’s not necessary at all. I mean, what kind of an asshole would I be if I hadn’t agreed to help you? Besides, you’re a fellow principal. Administrators unite and all that.”

 “Stop deflecting,” he said. “You did something really great, and it’s okay for you to take credit for it.”

 Flustered, I fiddle with my napkin because I don’t want to say something stupid. He has a way of making me tongue-tied that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. “Thanks,” I manage to mumble.

 “Thank you.”

 I hesitate but finally manage to choke, “You’re welcome.”

 “I’d like to do this again. If you’re willing.”

 His voice feels like a caress, and I lift my eyes to look at him. He’s studying me, unsmiling but not frowning, and I’m struck by how handsome he is in the dimmed light. He reaches across the table and holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I’m willing to reach out and accept it. He gives it a squeeze.

 “How about next week? Is that too soon?”

 “I— I need to check my calendar.”

 “I already did. No school activities.”

 “Are you—”

 “I’m sure,” he insists. “Please.”

 I don’t have a good excuse for saying no, so I agree. I’m still in a daze when he pulls the car to a stop in front of my house and gets out to walk me to the door. He leans in to kiss my check, but I turn my head at just the wrong time. His lips hover millimeters from my skin, and I struggle to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, he tilts his head and brushes his mouth over mine.

 The earth skews off its axis. There’s no other way to describe what happens because my entire world rearranges itself in that brief moment. Much too soon, he’s backed down the sidewalk and waves goodbye to me from his car before pulling away.

 ****

 I’m a mess by the next Friday when Peeta picks me up again for our second dinner together. I don’t know whether to call it a date or not, but the kiss the previous week indicates it could be. The night passes much the same as the previous week. He’s charming and funny and wearing the most stunning shade of green that makes his eyes sparkle turquoise. They do things to my insides. He’s a perfect gentleman as he drives me home again, walks me to the door, and kisses me softly. The situation repeats on the third and fourth and fifth time until I’m so wound up, I’m about to lose my mind. I don’t mean to complain, but my body wants more than what he’s offering.

 I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just really bad luck that our schedules don’t align for another few weeks. The days pass slowly without seeing him, although we do talk often. Some of his messages and emails make me smile when I read them, while others make me wonder if he’s flirting with me or simply being his usual friendly self.

 I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what’s happening between us. The conversation I had with Gale after my surgery flits in and out of my conscious thoughts. I don’t want to open myself up. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, but Peeta’s wonderful—smart, compassionate, funny, respectful, and supportive. He’s also got a backbone and knows how to advocate for himself and others around him. In short, he’s exactly what I’ve always desired in a partner. It scares me to death to acknowledge that I want him to be a bigger part of my life. It terrifies me to realize I can also picture him in my bed.

 Finally, we both have an evening without a work responsibility, and he asks if he can come over and make dinner when I tell him I’m simply too tired to dress up and go out to a restaurant. By the time he shows up on my doorstep with bags of groceries, my stomach’s in knots. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, it feels like we’re starting all over again.

 He looks insanely good after having filled out a little since the transplant. His broad shoulders are strong underneath the soft cotton of his salmon colored sweater, and the jeans he’s wearing hug his thighs and hips like a second skin. When he turns around so I can inadvertently check out his ass, I swoon at the sight. I want my hands on that peach so badly my fingertips tingle.

 He leans in to kiss me hello, and time stands still. He pauses once he’s broken the kiss, and we stare at each other for what feels like ages. Something’s changed. We’ve evolved. Our relationship’s grown while we’ve been apart. The air crackles with anticipation, and I’m beyond ready. Finally, he recovers and surveys me, taking in my black leggings, forest green tunic, and braid with a whistle. I flush scarlet at the flattery.

 “Good thing I have these bags to occupy my hands,” he teases, but I swallow down disappointment. He doesn’t seem that interested in touching me, and that makes me feel like howling my disapproval.

 “Maybe I should help. Give your hands a chance to…uh…stray.”

 He whips his head around to stare at me, uncertainty mixing with something I can’t quite decipher. When I don’t drop my gaze, he gulps before heading into the kitchen and tossing the food on the counter. He makes himself busy while I flit around him, unsure what to do. When he finally turns his megawatt smile on me and asks me if I’d be okay cutting vegetables, I nod eagerly. If it puts me closer to him, I’m completely game. He positions me in front of a stack of carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms and turns to his own work.

 We keep up a steady stream of chatter that grows increasingly flirtatious as the minutes pass. He brushes against me several times, and I can feel the electricity sparking between us. When he reaches over to take some of the diced potatoes, our hands brush, and we both jump.

 “Peeta,” I sigh a second before he’s pressed against me, his chest hard against mine as he cups my jaw and kisses me.

 I growl in the back of my throat at the feel of his tongue tangling with mine, and he hauls me tighter against him. He wraps my braid around his hand and tugs my head back so he can lick deeper into me. I’m shaking with desire, frantic for his hands on me. We’ve been circling each other for four years. The months since I agreed to donate my bone marrow have all been foreplay. I’m ready to give into the craving I’ve denied for far too long.

 I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. My hands tangle in his hair, and I can’t stop the wanting whimpers that fall from me. He’s just as frantic, his hands caressing everything he can reach, until they both cup my behind and squeeze.

 I realize I want to climb him like a tree. There’s no shame in admitting it. His body’s hard under his clothing, and he’s rigid as iron against my hip. When he thrusts his right hand under the waistband of my leggings, I don’t even try to stop him. Instead, I moan when his fingers stroke the patch of hair between my legs.

 “Fuck,” he gasps. “Katniss, tell me to stop if this isn’t okay. This is— You’re… You have to stop me now if you’re going to.”

 I don’t stop him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My limbs aren’t working other than to cling to him. My eyes roll back into my head when he breaches me. His mouth works magic while his fingers plunder and stroke. I’m begging him, my voice hoarse and broken. It’s been so very long, and I don’t have the patience to wait anymore.

 I’m pressed against the counter, my back bent as he fingers me. I don’t care about dinner or anything else except the feel of his calloused palm cupping me while he dips in and out in an uneven rhythm designed to stop me from falling over the edge too soon. His breaths are ragged, and I wrap my left leg around him to pull him closer. It also gives him better access, which he uses to his advantage.

 I’m sopping wet, squelching as he thrusts in and out, his thumb circling my clit and forcing wrecked squeals I’ve never made until experiencing the glory of Peeta Mellark finger fucking me in my own kitchen. My whole body trembles as the tension builds. I just need a release. That’s all I care about in the moment. The entire world could be exploding outside, and I wouldn’t care. He’s driving me crazy, and I don’t want to be sane. I just need him.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart,” he groans in my ear. “Wanted to feel you on me, hot and wet and sweet. I’ve dreamed about making you come. Imagined it so many times. Wanted to feel you fall apart because of me. You’re almost there, aren’t you, honey? I can tell you’re trying so hard not to let go. I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.”

 I’ve abandoned all sense of propriety. I’m moaning and rutting against him. I don’t know who I am anymore, but then everything makes sense in a rush of euphoria. I come with a scream that Peeta swallows with his kiss. He holds me close, rocking me through the spasms, grounding me, and cheering me on as I quake and shudder.

 I blink as I come back to myself, but he’s there. His face comes into focus, and I give him a dopey grin that makes him chuckle. He welcomes me back with a kiss as he frees his hand. My pants are moist, and I wiggle at how uncomfortable it is. Still, I think it’s worth the discomfort. I feel like walking liquid.

 “I think we burned dinner.”

 “Don’t care,” I tell him through a kiss. “We can order pizza. Not hungry anyway.”

 “Well, I am,” he jokes as he proceeds to devour me.

 We haven’t talked. I have no idea where we stand, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, Peeta’s here, alive and well, and with me. We make sure the burners are off and then I lead him to the bedroom. I don’t ever want to let go. If I could freeze this moment, I would, but I also want to see about all the others he has left simply because fate threw us together. We’ll get to the deep stuff. For now, I’ll settle for him deep inside me.

[greenygreenland]

Liar: Lloyd Garmadon & Sister! Reader

-you're the elder sister of the one and only Lloyd Garmadon

-tell me if you want a pt 2

Summary:

You're Lloyd's sister and would do anything to keep an eye on him, even if it's sneaking into the darkest, most evilest school for boys.

(Y/n) heard terrible stories of the school down the lane. From teachers murdering their students if they weren't up to their expectations to students locking their teachers in their own classrooms and torturing them until they begged for mercy.

Kids were said to grow up to be the worst of the worst, but never would (Y/n) have guessed the people there to look so...normal. Some students dressed incredibly well with uniforms complete with suits and ties while others slipped on sweatshirts and sweatpants instead.

The school had the classic tiled roof of any old building in Ninjago complete with various sparkling windows, stories, and creaky doors. From the outside, the school actually looked peaceful.

The garden out front gave off a feeling of freshness as she passed by with the vibrantly coloured petals swaying in the gentle breeze. The grass tickled (Y/n)'s ankles as she heaved out a deep breath she didn't know she held.

It's not too late to turn back, she told herself.

"No." she interjected. "I have to take care of Lloyd." At the mere mention of taking care of her brother, memories bombarded her like an air strike from above.

The soft, caring smile of her mother. Her warm hands holding her tight. Her words of comfort in her ear.

"I'm so sorry my daughter."

(Y/n) imagined her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Lloyd has a destiny laid out before him I can't allow."

"What kind of destiny?"

All those years ago, her mother had smiled again with those sad eyes of hers.

"He is destined to be the Green Ninja. He will bring balance, peace. But in order to do so, he must fight and defeat your father."

(Y/n) recalled the feeling of helplessness settling in her gut that day. Her father may have been evil, but he loved (Y/n) and Lloyd more than anything in the world. They could have been a happy family, but he was banished to the Underworld.

"No. He--he can't. Not father, not Lloyd. They can't fight!"

Her mother had frowned with tears in her eyes.

"That is why I must leave."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Because it's too dangerous. While I'm gone, all I ask of you is to take care of each other. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, mum. I promise."

(Y/n) shook away the memories with a frown. She was only about eight at the time. Now, she was in her teens. She couldn't back down, not after she dyed her blonde hair black and cut it short like a boy's. Not after she promised her mother to take care of Lloyd, and not after she had done all the paperwork herself.

(Y/n) stared at the documents in her hand with a shake of her head. They were forged at the local library and looked rather professional, but how far would looks go? "This is never going to work." she grumbled to herself.

---

"I can't believe that worked." (Y/n) whispered as she closed the principal's office door. She stuffed her school schedule into her green hoodie and made her way into the first class. She paused when her fingers latched onto the doorknob.

If this were a school for bad boys, then wouldn't that mean she could do whatever the heck she wanted? She could skip class! She wouldn't have to do her homework! She could actually talk back to people!

No.

(Y/n) couldn't do that. She'd willingly brainwash herself into being the villain the staff wanted her and so many others to be. She'd be just as much of a sheep as the children around her.

Like Lloyd.

Her mother said keeping him here would protect him and help avert the prophecy, but (Y/n) didn't understand that. Darkley's was a terrible place to grow up in because of the competitive and dark environment. People weren't nice here (she could tell that much), and it effected even the nicest kids.

(Y/n) released the doorknob and made her way down the hall. When lunch came, he decided to skip and hang out in one of the quieter halls. She didn't have much of an appetite after seeing a group of kids throw bags of fire ants down each other's shirts.

"First Spinjitzu Master is this place insane." she grumbled. A familiar chuckle caught her ears and she jumped to her feet so fast that a book almost fell out of her open bag. A cloaked boy smirked at her as if he told the world's best joke. "Tell me about it." he admitted. "Say, you're the new kid right?"

(Y/n) inwardly smiled. What a wonderful coincidence. "What about it, kid?"

"You may be older, but you're new. You need someone to show you the ropes. What do you say we team up together?" (Y/n) crossed her arms and stared her baby brother down with a firm look. "What's the catch?"

"'Catch'? Uh..."

(Y/n) almost smiled. If Lloyd were one of the other kids, then he would have thought up something to benefit himself on the other end. But he wasn't. He was Lloyd Garmadon, the destined Green Ninja, so of course he wasn't as evil as the other kids. He was an angel in disguise.

"You don't sound so evil, kid." she suddenly said. The confidence on Lloyd's face simmered into a deep frown. "That's what everyone says. The teachers told me they're thinking of kicking me out soon...but I'll show them! I'm Lloyd Garmadon, bringer of evil and son of Lord Garmadon!" As if to prove his point, he let out an 'evil' laugh.

(Y/n) cringed a little. "Great," she said through her teeth, "that's wonderful Lloyd. Now, why don't you show me the 'ropes' of this place?"

"Sure, uh..."

"Jason." she replied. "Jason Le."

True to his word, he showed (Y/n) all the ins and outs of Darkley's, as well as the basics of being 'bad'. She skipped classes with him, ran through the halls, and pickpocketed coins out of her peers' pockets. But along the way, (Y/n)'s morals kicked in and she felt bad about all the stuff she did.

ONE MONTH LATER

The sun slowly sunk over the horizon, casting the empty classroom in a hue of oranges and reds. Lloyd laid flat on a set of desks, arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk. "You're not so bad at this Jason. Maybe one day, you'll be as good as me."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I will be, Lloyd." There was a moment of silence before he sat up on the desks. "You know, you remind me of someone." (Y/n) shifted in her chair with a nervous chuckle. "Is that so...?"

"Yeah. My sister. But she'd never do anything as evil as us. She couldn't pick up twenty dollars off the street even if it stared her in the face!" He sighed to himself. "Goody two shoes."

(Y/n) snorted. "What's your sister like?"

He shrugged. "She's a liar who pretends to be nice. We were supposed to meet at Buddy's Pizza, but I haven't heard a word from her in four weeks! What a snake." (Y/n) winced, but Lloyd didn't seem to notice.

"Not only that, but she's a total two-face!"

(Y/n) winced again.

"One second she's nice and the next she's gone like my parents! I thought she cared about me, but apparantly not."

Lloyd's words piecered (Y/n)'s heart like a knife.

Two-faced.

Liar.

Snake.

Was that really what her baby brother thought of her? After all she sacrificed for him? All the times she showed up to hang out with Lloyd, the day before she'd scrap by to earn enough money to buy him lunch. All the times she brought him to the arcade? She used all the allowance in her pockets.

There was a weird burning sensation in her chest. "What if," she quickly said, "your sister was just busy? What if your sister was going through something she didn't tell you?" Lloyd placed a hand on his chin. "I didn't really think about that."

"Maybe you should, because no family should leave each other behind." (Y/n) abruptly stood. "It's getting late, we should head to the dorms."

The walk to the dormitories was silent. Lloyd could tell just by the crinkle in (Y/n)'s brow that she was angry, or at least annoyed with him. He wasn't sure how he knew just by a single glance, but the tension was beginning to freak him out a little. "Did I...say something?" he muttered. (Y/n) frowned a little. "No."

"Then why do you look so..."

"So what?"

Lloyd shrugged. "I don't know...annoyed?"

(Y/n) froze in her steps, and it was so quiet that Lloyd heard every squeak her shoes made. The rays of sun shone on her pale face, illuminating her bright eyes and silky hair. From her hair part, Lloyd noticed a few golden strands peeking out.

Wait a minute.

Gold? Since when did Jason have golden hair?

Lloyd could have sworn this guy looked familiar. The almond-y round eyes, the sparkle that never seemed to dim, the hair like liquid gold that could only be possible if he were related to his grandfather. This wasn't a boy standing before him. No, no, it was....

"(Y/n)?"

The name slid off his tongue before he could stop himself. (Y/n) tiredly sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She knew he would have figured it out eventually, he was smart like that. "The dye must have been cheaper than I thought," she quietly mumbled.

"Dye?"

"I spent the last of my monthly salary on the cheapest hair dye I could find."

"You've been here the entire time and I didn't even notice?!" exclaimed Lloyd. (Y/n) nodded. "Yes, I have." Lloyd squinted at her tired eyes with an angry frown. "But--but why?"

(Y/n) laughed so coldly that Lloyd shivered. "Why else? You're my baby brother. You've been stuck at Darkley's, and I haven't been able to keep an eye on you. When I heard you might be kicked out, I wanted to make sure I wouldn't lose you for good."

Lloyd was speechless.

I spent the last of my monthly salary on the cheapest hair dye I could find.

He had just bad-mouthed his elder sister.

You're my baby brother.

How dishonourable of him.

I wanted to make sure I wouldn't lose you for good.

A wave of guilt hit Lloyd like a tsunami. He ran at (Y/n) like a bolt of lightning and jumped straight into her arms. How could he have thought such terrible things about her? She would never abandon him because she was the best person he had ever met in all of Ninjago even if he were too blind to see it.

She cared about him more than she cared for herself, and now Lloyd understood. All those times she showed up late to pick him up on the front lawn of Darkley's. All those times she let Lloyd eat whatever he wanted while she sat at the table with only a glass of water. All those times she snuck in to hide handmade cards or gifts under his pillows. That wasn't her pretending to act nice or being two-faced, that was her sacrificing all she could to be the best sister in all of Ninjago.

Lloyd almost cried then and there out of guilt. "I'm sorry I called you two-faced." he croaked out. "And I'm sorry for calling you a snake and saying you were fake to me. I didn't mean that, I promise. I just--I didn't know." (Y/n) wrapped her arms around Lloyd's tiny body with a sigh far beyond her years. "I know you're sorry, I forgive you." Lloyd let go of (Y/n) with a sad frown. "I really don't deserve you."

(Y/n) mimicked his sad frown. "Maybe...maybe it was destiny that knew you needed someone like me in your life. You need a guide to keep you on the right track, and that's what I am." Lloyd smiled a little. "You're more than that." He hugged (Y/n) again. "You're the best sister in the world."

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.8k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Unsurprisingly, working with Snape was absolutely demanding and still (or therefore) absolutely delightful. The Sunday evening they had started the slow process of making the potion, Robin had mostly watched Snape working and listened to him explaining what he was doing as he moved along. But over the days and weeks, she was allowed to do more and more herself, and somehow, miraculously, a second chair had found its way to the laboratory by the end of the third week. Being allowed to do more practical work, however, had come at the cost of Snape correcting literally everything Robin was doing for a good amount of time. Whether it was cutting something up, separating something else, or even something as simple as stirring… he always had something to complain about.

Robin loved every second of it dearly, even though she would accidentally sass him sometimes in return to his corrections of whatever she did. There also was no denying that she was learning more than she had ever expected, and even though the times when they actually had to work on the potion were not more frequent than two to three nights a week, she always looked forward to it from the very moment she left the lab in the first place.

Unfortunately the two months came to an end eventually, and Snape summoned her to the lab on a Saturday night in December to bring their work to an end with the very procedure this all had led up to. The restoration of the page. Honestly, Robin didn't know what to expect of it. They still had no idea what was hidden on that page, but she felt honoured that she was allowed to be here for the final revelation nonetheless. He was by no means obliged to keep her around at any point, especially not now, and Robin was well aware of that, which was what had led her to be all the more grateful in return.

"What do you think we will find on that page, professor?" She asked as she sat on her stool, observing how he placed the old book on the table, opening it to the two pages that enclosed the missing one.

"If I knew, we would not have to go through with this entire procedure."

"I know that you don't know… But what is your assumption? What do you think is worth hiding like this?"

"I do not know, Miss Mitchell." He sighed, but then turned to her as he lifted an eyebrow. "What is your assumption then, if you expect me to have one?"

"Well… I've actually spent quite some time thinking about this." She smiled to herself for a moment. Truth be told, she had been thinking about little else over the course of the last two months. "Seeing as this page is probably from the Renaissance, it would be something THEY deemed worth hiding. So I asked myself: What was worth hiding in the 15th and 16th century? The answer would be: basically the same as today. Sex and power, the driving forces of mankind since the very beginning. Now, I honestly doubt, or rather I want to doubt, that this entire spell is about sex, so I'm staying with power. The means to power are control and protection, which leaves us basically with weapons and security. Now back to the Renaissance: as far as I remember and as far as the library here allows me to research, most of the European countries weren't actually counties but basically a rag rug of principalities and such. That again leads me to believe that wars, especially of the magic kind, weren't actually fought on a scale large enough that would bring forth a weapon strong enough to be worth hiding like this. That leaves us with security, and thus protection. Which is, to finish this off, what I believe this page is about. A protection spell."

Mildly amused and badly hiding it, Snape raised an eyebrow at her once again. "You seem fairly confident in your thesis."

"If I wasn't confident in it, it would hardly be a thesis worth upholding." Robin smirked. "I would even bet my non-existent birthday presents on it."

"If they are non-existent, that statement hardly counts for anything, does it?"

Now Robin had to laugh out loud indeed. "True, unfortunately. But I'm still fairly certain about my thesis."

"Then we shall see if you are correct." Snape mused and finally moved on to follow the instructions in Robin's literature spell book. First, one had to make the potion. They'd done that already, at least. Then the potion would have to be drizzled over the part of the spine on the inside of the book where the page was missing. Snape allowed Robin to do this step, and it admittedly was an easy task, but she was only too happy to get to do something in this procedure at all. Next, the actual spell had to be spoken, which Robin gladly left for her professor to do, as she honestly didn't even know how to pronounce the words she'd read on the page. After that was done, the instructions merely said to wait, and then they would be done. So that's what they did, merely sitting on their stools and staring at the book while waiting for something to happen.

"Do you think it worked?" Robin asked after five minutes of silence, when still absolutely nothing had happened

"Yes."

"I honestly can't believe it was this easy after freaking two months of making that potion."

"Luckily efficiency not always correlates to effort."

"I hope you know that I'm very grateful that I got to help you in this, sir, no matter how difficult or easy it is. I've learned so much, and I truly believe that I've never felt so filled with… passion, and joy, and curiosity, in anything ever before."

"I know." It was a simple statement, but Robin understood what he meant to express. He wouldn't have made an effort to teach her any of the things she'd learned if he didn't know she appreciated it.

"Good." She returned with a smile, then looked at the book once more only to jump in her seat. "Bloody hell! It's glowing! It's actually working!"

Snape rolled his eyes, but still had to suppress the not-smirk at the same time, which was only a partial success, seeing as Robin still noticed it. "Of course it's working, Mitchell, get over it."

"Sorry." She bit her lips and tried to contain her sheer excitement, but it honestly was difficult. It was actually working! "It's just… a spell I found, in my book, with a potion we made, restores your book page! How amazing is that!"

"You seem to have had fairly few successes in your life if you get that excited over this one."

"Well, all successes I've ever had were utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Getting good grades, winning minor quarrels, scaring scummy shop owners… It wasn't anything worth mentioning. But this could be something amazing! Something that actually matters!"

"We will see in just a short moment." He mused, then turned towards the book and once the page was entirely restored at last, he went to read it over once, twice, another time…

"And?" Robin asked anxiously, after giving him almost fifteen minutes to read that one single page. Nobody needed that long to read a couple words!

"Shush."

She rolled her eyes, but complied. If the past two months had done anything, they had proven to her that the odd amount of trust she put into Snape was actually justified. And thus she waited another ten minutes until he finally turned to her with a grave expression.

"Is… is it something… bad?" Robin tried again, and her insecure frown met his stoney gaze for a moment until she looked back at the book.

"You should read it." Was all he said, before standing up from his stool and busying himself with whatever he could to obviously distract himself from whatever it was he had just read. To think about it, perhaps.

In an instant Robin's eyes were glued to the book. It was a protection spell indeed! The grin was on her face immediately, and she felt proud to have come to the right conclusion. As she read on, everything became a bit clearer, and yet also a great deal more confusing. It wasn't a spell… it was a potion. After reading it a second time, she looked up from the book and her eyes found her professor's across the room. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure I understand."

"I would be surprised if you did."

"Why?"

"Because I am not certain I understand it either, and I would much prefer if I didn't."

"What?!" Robin frowned at him in honest question. "Why would you hope you don't understand? What exactly is it you believe to understand?"

"You were the one to guess that it was a protection spell. Why don't you tell me what you understand?"

"Alright…" Robin sighed and let her eyes travel over the page once more, before looking back up at Snape. "As far as I got any of this, it's a potion, not a spell."

"Good. Go on."

"Well, it is supposed to protect the person drinking it from the influence of any kind of magic. But not their own, somehow. So… it's like a two-way mirror, kind of. Nobody can magic you, but you can magic everyone else."

"Precisely."

"But…" Robin added reluctantly.

"But?" Snape frowned in return, clearly not having expected her to continue.

"Yeah, but…" Robin frowned as well, as she looked at the page once more. "It seems like this spell will only protect…" She stopped there, feeling like this was probably a really silly thought. If Snape hadn't understood it this way, it was probably wrong anyway.

"Do go on." He encouraged, or rather demanded though.

"It sounds like it only protects half bloods. Or maybe also muggle borns, I'm not sure… but definitely not pure bloods."

In an instant, Snape was by her side and looking at the book as well in an astonishing intensity. "Where did you read that?"

Robin pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of the page. "Here it says 'Only thee who is't hast ventur'd both worlds shalt beest the one who is't dwells in the safety of the beshrew's blessing'. In my opinion that would roughly translate to 'Only you who has ventured both worlds shall be the one who dwells in the safety of the curse's blessing' in modern day language. And seeing as the entire book is a mixture of the muggle and wizarding world, I just thought that those are what's meant with 'both worlds'. The only people who usually know both worlds are muggle borns or half bloods. So… yeah."

Snape read the short paragraph again, then looked up at Robin in sincere astonishment. "I believe you are right, Miss Mitchell."

"Wait, what? Really!?" Robin stared back at him in equal surprise and doubt, eyes wide as they searched for any sign of mock in his own. But he was entirely serious.

"It seems fairly obvious now that you pointed it out, but I must admit… I failed to notice it before." He commented, reading the paragraph yet another time.

Had he just-... No, surely not… but he definitely had admitted that she had found something he hadn't, right? Right?! Robin was too stunned to even give any proper reply, so she simply offered him a happy half smile.

"However I am not certain if this means that pure bloods cannot make the potion, or if it will not affect them, in disregard of the ones who made it." He mused after a few seconds, and Robin finally snapped out of her daze as the words sunk into her brain.

"Them?" She asked before she could stop herself from saying anything at all. "Do you mean… you're not…?"

Immediately he shot her a defensive glare. "That is not even remotely of your concern."

"I'm sorry." Robin replied quickly and while she still felt curious, she also regretted bringing it up. "I really didn't mean to pry, sir."

"Simply forget about it, will you?" He murmured, then turned towards the book once more.

"So… why does it matter if they cannot make it or if they merely cannot use it?" Robin asked for the sole sake of a change of topic.

"You know the answer to that." He replied with a pointedly annoyed expression.

"I do indeed…" Robin whispered to herself, then looked at the book in front of her, and finally to the ingredients on the shelves. She really had screwed this up, hadn't she… It had been truly stupid to ask him something that personal. "Sorry…"

"Don't apologise. You had a crucial part in the project, and this discovery is your merit as well as it is mine. A potion like this has been searched for for centuries, and would any of this become known… It would be revolutionary."

"...would? We're not going to… to tell anyone about it?" Robin asked in surprise, and a mild twist of disappointment. "But… we can try it out at least, right?"

"No." He replied with a quiet solemnity that made Robin's heart sink even further. "This potion is dangerous, more so than you likely realize."

"But how? Why?!" Robin asked in desperate incredulity. "What's wrong with protecting yourself against your enemies? This potion could help so many people…"

In a moment's notice, Snape turned to Robin entirely, not even an arm's length away, and looked down at her with such a seriousness and intensity that she inevitably shuddered. "Nobody can know that this potion exists. Not a single soul but you and me, do you understand that?"

"I do." Robin replied quietly, as she still looked up at him with sad eyes. "But please, at least tell me why."

"Promise me that you will never lose a single word about it to anyone but me. Not the other teachers, not a friend, not even Professor Dumbledore or the Minister of Magic himself." He really seemed to be dead serious about this, and Robin started feeling sick with anxiety again. If he truly wanted her to swear her silence, he had a reason to.

"I promise." She replied in complete seriousness and utmost honesty. "I don't know if it means anything to you, but I promise."

"It does." He replied a little less gravely, and took a step backwards, out of her personal space. "Coming from you, it does."

"Can you… please tell me why this is so dangerous? Please… I just wanted to understand." Robin tried once more after a moment of silence, not even caring if her begging was pathetic, but she needed to know.

"Do you know Oscar Wilde, Miss Mitchell?" He asked completely out of context, or so it seemed, and Robin only looked even more lost.

"Yes, I… I've heard of him."

"I thought so. He supposedly said: 'Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth'." Snape made a small pause, and Robin considered the quote for a moment before he spoke on. "In my eyes, the same principle applies for might. Make someone believe they are invincible, and they will show their true self in their actions. Now, I'm certain you are aware of the propensity of mankind to oppress their oppressors, if given the chance. What do you think would happen to the muggle borns after centuries of being oppressed by the pure bloods, if they gained access to a potion that makes them invincible?"

"Oh…" Robin's face softened from pouting incredulity to actual understanding, but her chest still felt painfully small for her thudding heart. "It-it could lead to some very serious damage in the world, I guess. There's always someone willing to start a revolution… but we mustn't give them an opportunity for that." She finally concluded on her own, nodding to herself as if to help the words sink into her mind and shake out the disappointment.

"Precisely." He confirmed, back to neutrality if not even a subtle touch of calmness. "That is why nobody can know of its existence. Do you understand that now?"

"I do… and I agree, even. I just didn't really consider that something so good could be used for something so bad." She sighed, picking at the buttons of her shirt subconsciously rather than by choice, and looked from Snape down to the book. "What do we… what will you do with it?"

"The very same thing the previous possessor did. Destroy the page, keep the book of nonsense safe." He replied as he sat back down on his own stool, and Robin could feel his eyes on her even though she kept staring at the book to hide her tears.

"So all efforts were for nothing, huh?" Her voice was throaty and thick, and Robin felt like they got stuck in her chest in the first place. She had been so focused on this whole thing, had put so much of her heart into it… and now it would be destroyed, and thus every chance of possibly continuing this out of class work with Snape was over once and for all. That maybe –no, definitely– was even worse than the loss of this remarkable potion that had been lost in the first place anyway.

"Will you stop being so dramatic, now…" He gave right back, feignedly scolding, but it did its job and Robin pulled herself together as he spoke on. "Nothing about this project by any means was in vain, seeing as we both learned a valuable lesson. And wouldn't you say it was our aim to solve a mystery rather than strive for material gain?"

Once again, Robin had to realize that Snape was right. Of course he was... It was ridiculous to be upset over this, she should be happy indeed that they had actually managed to solve the mystery. That she had gotten to help, and that she had gotten to learn so much over the last two months. In this new light, the tears stopped burning in her eyes and she could blink them away before looking up at her professor with an attempted half smile. Better.

"We definitely did solve the mystery." She said, and the smile reached her eyes a moment later. "And I definitely learned a lot from all of this, and from you, professor. It truly was a joy."

"Your understanding of joy is rather curious, if you consider being constantly corrected one."

"I consider potions a joy. And learning." Now she had to smile for real, and the sadness faded from her mind like clearing fog. This wasn't the end.

"That is… acceptable."

Robin had to snort at his choice of words. "It's 'acceptable'? May I ask, what did you learn, sir, if you say we both learned something from it? Is it just the spells and potions or… something else?"

His face went straight back into stony nothingness, and Robin believed she had said the wrong thing again as he got up and walked across the room to fetch an empty bottle, probably to store the remainder of the potion.

"I learned that at least one person in this school full of dunderheads is worth my time and efforts." He finally replied, likely as indifferently as he could manage, but the words were clear enough even without any means to convey them appropriately. Professor Snape deemed Robin worth his teaching. He didn't regret allowing her to help. Maybe he would even let her do it again. Robin's smile widened into a grin before she could help it.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, I believe." She smirked before she could think better of it.

"Who said I was speaking of you?" Came his immediate reply, but now both his tone and expression clearly gave away the obvious tease. Robin found herself enjoying it… those extremely rare moments when he wasn't void of any sentiment, on the outside.

"I beg your forgiveness for being so pridefully assuming." She laughed, and there it was again, the sarcasm she got scolded for more often than not. And still Robin couldn't wipe the smirk off her face.

"Forgiveness granted."

"That was easy…"

"Careful."

"I'm in the potions master's private laboratory… whatever else would I be but careful?" While her tone was still anything but serious, he actually seemed quite pleased with her statement, and that made Robin smile even more. Slowly her cheeks were starting to hurt again… it was odd how she always seemed to go through a wide array of emotions in the shortest time spans whenever she was around Professor Snape. He was irritating, and everything he did was too. That must be it.

While Snape filled the remainder of the potion into the bottle he had just retrieved, and then labeled it and put it away into one of the shelves, Robin looked over the page with the dangerous-protective potion again (she couldn't find a name anywhere and thus that's what her mind had labeled it, for now). Would destroying it really prevent it from being found in the future? Sure, Snape was brilliant, but if a potions professor and a third year student could restore it almost by chance, then who said nobody else would in the future?

"Professor… can I ask you something?" Robin started her attempt to voice just that thought in a way that wouldn't possibly sound like an insult to him.

"You may ask, but there is no guarantee that I will answer."

"So… I was wondering if the spell we used to restore the page in the first place, and with spell I mean potion and spell and the entire thing, if, you know…" Just get the question out, idiot! "Don't you think someone like us will eventually do the same thing we did? I mean restoring the page that you're destroying now. Wouldn't that simply be a delay of things, if the next person finding it isn't as considerate of its dangers?"

He seemed to really consider her words for a moment, which he had done quite often over the last weeks actually, before he looked at Robin when answering. "That is possible, yes."

"So maybe… a repetition of history wouldn't necessarily be the… best idea?" Robin suggested vaguely and already made a face that clearly showed what she expected him to reply with. A scold, namely.

"What would you suggest I do instead?"

Now, she hadn't expected that. But she'd take the opportunity to voice her thoughts a little more in detail. "So this is the point where my logic kind of depends on my very limited knowledge of things, but… I was thinking, if there really isn't another possibility but to restore the page with a spell-potion-whatever thing like we did, then one should consider how the process of restoration works. From what I understand, the spell in my book refers to the destruction of the page itself which is, kind of, reverted by the procedure we just did as well. Seeing as you said two months ago that all the book restoration spells you tried didn't work in this case, that would –with a bit of corners and loops– mean, in the end, that the page needs to be destroyed first to be restored in the book. If it's not destroyed, while it simply being taken out of the book wouldn't qualify as destroying it I believe, one couldn't restore the page with the book alone."

"So?"

"So… You could take the page out of the book, but NOT destroy it. Because if the only means to getting the page back into the book is a restoration spell or potion, which in return only works if the page was destroyed in the first place, then nobody will be able to get their hands on the page if they have the book." Robin suddenly wasn't so sure about her idea anymore… what if he deemed it stupid? But she'd already voiced too many dumb thoughts around him to let that stop her now. "That of course would still leave open the possibility for the page itself to be found, when it's not destroyed, especially since it's no longer hidden by the book… However if you find out just what exactly counts as for the page being 'destroyed', you could always do something else to it to make it useless. Something that doesn't count as destroyed, and thus will make a restoration impossible, but will also make the page useless. In the end you will thus have a useless book, and a useless page, and neither can be made to function again."

"Where, pray tell, did you get that idea from in this instant?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin, but otherwise didn't give away what he thought of her suggestion. Idiot…

"I… think. A lot." Robin replied lamely. "I mean, I don't know much, and I can do even less, but I'm fairly decent at thinking… I think."

Snape rolled his eyes at that admittedly silly statement, and Robin tried to force the heat out of her face. For a minute, it was completely silent.

"Your mind truly is an ever-surprising quarry to delve in, Miss Mitchell…" He commented then, with a frown and a curious look at her, and while it wasn't really a compliment, his words still made Robin shiver for some reason. "I will consider your suggestion before making my decision about what is to do with the page and the book."

"Thank you, sir. I'm just glad it wasn't complete nonsense." Robin replied with a nervous chuckle, then scooted herself off her stool and awkwardly took a step towards the door before turning back once more. "Uhm, is there… anything else for me to do tonight?"

"If I'm not mistaken, you have an essay to write for my class." Aaand he was entirely back in professor-mode, scowl, bored indifference and all.

"I finished it last night, sir."

"I assigned it last night, Miss Mitchell."

"Yes, and I wrote and finished it after dinner. Proofread it this morning. Edited it this afternoon. All done now."

"The class really is too easy." Snape sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, all the other students would fail if I made it any more difficult."

"Don't they fail as it is already?" Robin whispered more to herself than to him, and still received a glare and a not-smirk in return.

"Goodnight, Miss Mitchell." He said after two more seconds of silence, and Robin understood a polite invitation to leave when she heard one.

"Goodnight sir." She gave back before she let herself out, with a smile that didn't leave her face for the rest of the night.

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It was almost a month later when Robin heard about the book, and the dangerous-protective potion again. Just as last year, she had decided to stay in the castle over Christmas break. However this year she actually knew from the start what she would be doing, and Professor Sprout seemed rather delighted about Robin's enthusiasm to help her out again. But one thing did change in comparison to last year. This year, Robin received a Christmas present. Not in the traditional sense, admittedly, but to her it would always be one all the same.

Seeing as she would only get the money from her parents once she would go home in the summer, Robin hadn't exactly expected to be given anything at all. And it surely wasn't given to her the way she would expect either. While usually the students who stayed here over the holidays received their presents in the common room upon Christmas morning, this is not how Robin came to hers.

Christmas arrived in a whirlwind of snow and cold, just like last year, and it also went that way again. Robin worked in the greenhouse most of the time, but occasionally she would be sent to Hagrid's for a change. She hadn't really had much contact with the man in question before this particular Christmas break, but seeing as Professor Sprout didn't require her assistance every single day, the herbology teacher still was kind enough to refer Robin to the gamekeeper. He wasn't the brightest fellow, admittedly, but good-natured and kind to the bone, and that made Robin like him in an instant. She helped him out with all kinds of things, from taking care of the magical creatures (which she unfortunately knew nothing about since she hadn't taken this particular class) to simple work in the school garden, and admittedly, she did learn a lot from Hagrid, too.

In the evenings Robin would still come to sit in Snape's classroom, alone, for she still couldn't stand to be in the common room even though it had become rather deserted. The overwhelming panic she had felt in the beginning of the term hadn't been back since, but Robin assumed that it was solely due to the fact that she had been avoiding situations that made her panic in the first place at all costs. Christmas came and went this way, without a present, but with a good lot of practical work every day. She actually felt content, with enough decent company throughout the day, and enough time to read by herself at night. The only thing that nagged at her mind from time to time was the absence of a certain potions professor from the classroom or his office in the evenings, but then again, she reasoned that since he still showed up for most meals, he surely was fine. Still, she felt worried about him. A little. An appropriate amount. It was perfectly normal to worry about someone you usually saw every day. Almost. She didn't let his absence stop her from making good use of his classroom every evening though. The first night she didn't spend in there was New Year's.

After her work of the day in the greenhouse was done, she got cleaned up and tidied her part of the room, then wrapped herself in her warmest clothes, and in sweet remembrance of last year headed out into the arcades that surrounded the courtyard at roughly eleven. With a soft smile she sat down in the same arch as last year, crossed her legs underneath her, and started to read her book on the care of magical creatures. Maybe she could convince some people to let her join the class after the holidays, if only she caught up with the class material before then. It's what she'd been trying to do ever since the first day of working for Hagrid, when she had discovered that magical creatures actually were a very much similar subject to herbology when it came to its usefulness for potions.

"Becoming predictable, are we?" Snape's voice called out to her even before he was anywhere to be seen.

"I'd rather say I've been spending surprisingly little time out here this Christmas." Robin replied with a smile, but kept her eyes on the book. At least she hadn't jumped again.

"What are you reading this year?"

"The textbook for the 'care of magical creatures' class. I thought about convincing whoever teaches it currently to let me join the class after the holidays."

"Where does the sudden interest stem from?" His voice had gotten closer now, and Robin believed he had once more taken a seat in the arch next to hers.

"It's surprisingly handy to know a bit about the creatures whose body parts and liquids we use in potion making. Just like it's useful to know herbology." She smiled to herself, eyes still on the book while yet she had stopped trying to read.

"Clever."

"That's what I’d rather hoped."

"Consider it done."

"What exactly?"

"Your inquiry to participate in the class. I will speak to Professor Kettleburn, and he will let you join once term resumes."

"Wha-... Thank you! That's… amazing! Really, thank you so much." Robin's eyes finally lifted off her book and she looked towards the arch next to her, but yet again could see nothing more than stone and ornamentation.

"Yes, well… just do me the favor and make sure you are not ahead of the class right on the first day already." He mumbled in the usual discomfort upon being thanked, and still Robin had to snicker at the comment.

"Then I better stop studying their textbook now and leave the last two chapters for another day." She commented with a grin, and indeed closed her book in her lap only to rest her forearms on it to lean forward just enough to get a glimpse of her professor in the next arch. He looked gnarlier than usual, if one could even say that about someone that young, and Robin seriously wondered what he'd been up to during the holidays. But it wasn't her place to ask.

Thus they merely sat in silence yet again, watching the snow falling slowly and calmly as the minutes ticked by without their notice. Robin did wonder for a moment why Snape was out here with her, but she dismissed the question when she couldn't even tell the reason why she was here herself. Maybe it was the calm, or the solitude. Even if technically it wasn't solitude in the first place, with it being the two of them, but still it was like solitude from all the stupid people. Just two people who understood the silence like a part of themselves. At least that's what Robin thought, and for her it was a good enough theory to stick to.

At last it was the noise coming from Hogsmeade again that made Robin aware of the turn of years, and she smiled to herself as she realized that she had spent another new year's out here with the potions professor. Maybe it was turning out to be an odd little tradition, just like Professor Sprout's –who had told Robin that she always spends new year's sitting in her room's window with a piece of cake, watching the fireworks in the distance– which she had told Robin about the other day. While Robin found the herbology teacher's tradition quite charming, she preferred her own that hopefully would come into existence for real. Just Snape, and silence, and darkness, and Robin. She could very well live with that. Too well, perhaps.

_______________________________

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[50-percent-winchester-sister]

The Emo Phase

THIS IS MY FIRST SISTER WINCHESTER ONE SHOT PLEASE DONT HATE IT I CRIII

Dean: 26

Sam: 22

Y/N: 15

When you were 15, that’s when you had an emo phase, and Sam and Dean were NOT pleased

You had a short temper and a prissy attitude and they were not having any of it. You wore all black and according to Dean ‘slutty’ clothes, which made you more mad at him

You snuck out all the time and each time they got tired of you so Sam grounded you for 2 months

“What? You can't ground me what the fu-”

“I think I just did. Room. Now.”

And when Sam grounds you, you know you can't get out of it easily. Even so, instead of being a good kid and saying sorry, you slammed and locked your door.

You were so mad you balled your hand into a fist and shattered your mirror and threw the stuff that was on your dresser on the floor. Let’s just say, your room didn’t deserve the things you did to it.

About an hour or so later your energy drained because you were mad at Sam. Mad at Dean. Mad at yourself

You cried for hours and when you woke up you looked like a mess with red puffy eyes

Until it hit you. You woke yourself up, Dean didn’t come in and call you Princess, he hasn’t in a while…

You opened your door and walked to the kitchen doorframe to see Sam and Dean at the kitchen table, Sam on his laptop and Dean drinking a beer looking at the newspaper.

You just stood there silently for a minute until you decided to walk past them to get something to drink

Dean looks up and sees you saying “There’s our little ball of sunshine” sarcastically

“Bite me” “Hey I’m not the one who got grounded by Sammy”

“Whatever don’t talk to me” You grab yourself a glass of milk and go to your room to get dressed for school.

You walk into your room and “Wow...Did I do all of that?” You were so filled with adrenaline and hate you blocked out most of what happened last night after you got grounded

You got dressed and went into the kitchen to achieve your backpack, glasses and the ribbon your mom got you.

“Y/n your rooms a mess you’re gonna clean it up when you get back fro-”

“Yeah no shit, it's not like I’m gonna keep it that way, Sam”

You didn’t want to stay there any longer and decided to walk to school. Your school is a few miles away and one of your brothers usually takes you, but you could bare being near them right now.

You were already 20 minutes late to first hour and frankly, you didn’t give two flying fucks

You decided to skip 1st hour because honestly they're’s no point on going anymore

You skipped second hour because you hated the teacher and skipped third hour because that teacher always gives you a hard time.

In fourth hour (the hour you FINALLY decided to come to class) you got sent to the councilors office

“Are you Y/n m/n Winchester dear?”

“Yeah, why?”

“The principals have contacted your guardians to come to this school to pick you up, you’re suspended for 4 days”

“Wait for WHAT? What did I even do??”

“We’ll talk about that once your guardians are here”

Your back is turned away from the door and once you heard that door open you KNOW you’re done for. For the first time in a while, you’re scared to be near your brothers.

“Are you two Sam and Dean Winchester?”

“Yes we are, hello”

Sam on your left and Dean on your right, you can't leave even if you tried

“We have called you in here today to inform you that y/n has been suspended for 4 days due to breaking Sabrina Gillie’s nose and breaking Callie Monoys’ arm”

'Oh right… that’s what I did' you thought while trying to remain calm

It was silent for a few moments which felt like forever

“Thank you so much for telling us we’ll take the right disciplinary action”

You, Sam and Dean, walked out of the office and were walking through the hallways to get to the Impala.

You usually like quiet but right now you were going insane.

You hated the silence, it was digging into your skin like needles

You, Sam and Dean, were in the impala when the silence broke in 3...2...1...

"Y/n, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean says with venom in his voice

"Yeah okay, ask me what I was thinking and not what they were thinking, sure do that"

"Son of a bitch y/n I know you think you're 'so' cool now but dammit come on, you broke a girl's nose and another girl's arm"

"Fucking hell Dean it's not like I 'wanted' to do it, they deserved it!"

"No more out of you Y/n, once we get in the bunker you're going straight to your room and staying there, you got me?"

"No," you say like a calm but dark undertone.

"Excuse me?" Sam says looking back at you

"I said no, me, Claire and her friend Alex are hanging out tonight at Claire's house"

"The hell you are," Sam says "You're still grounded, missy"

"Do NOT call me missy you asshole, and screw you I can just sneak out"

"I'll lock your door"

"I can go out the window"

"you're room is upstairs"

"I have my ways, Sam"

"THAT'S IT!! Y/n, I'm tired of you acting like just because you're our sister you can get away with the shit you're doing!" Sam says as he wipes his face with his hands

"That's not-"

" No! I don't want to do this but Dean, you think we should send her to Jody's for a few days?"

"WHAT?" You say in a piercing, sinister scream enough to make Dean stop the car and look back at you

"I am NOT going to Jody's! You can't make me, Sam!"

"If you don't want to go to Jody's, then all this attitude of yours has gotta stop, okay?"

You three finally are at the bunker and you get out of the Impala before it fully stops and head inside and ran up to your room. You stayed in there for a good two hours cleaning up, but its because you wanted to, not because of Sam and Dean. It's 7:25 pm when you heard Dean call your name, reluctantly, you did as told. "Me and Sammy are going on a hunt, you need anything while we're out?"

All you did was look down and shake your head no and walk back to your room. no "Ill miss you two" or "Be safe, call me and ill be there," just....silence, and honestly Dean didn't know if he should be nervous or not.

You turned your phone off because honestly, you didn't want to be bothered by anyone, all by yourself with your thoughts. 'Wow I'm such a disappointment to them' 'Im such an awful sister, they want to send me away to Jody' 'God why can't I just do shit right for once?"

They left a note on the kitchen counter saying they will be back by later tonight so you thought of making them some pie, Karjalanpiirakka. Karelian Pie that Claire taught you how to make a couple of years ago

When it was finished you decided to clean up the kitchen, library and living room while you still had the time by yourself. When you were done, saying you were happy for yourself is an understatement, you were damn proud! It was 2 am by the time you settled down and watched Spiderman-Homecoming on the big tv screen.

About an hour later Sam and Dean enter the bunker and looked honest to god shocked on how clean it was.

"Sammy? Do you see this shit? Are we high?" 'Yeah I see it, you think she's okay?"

They see you sleeping on the couch, sitting up and Sam walks up to you and wakes you up, he says "Why don't you sleep on your own bed bugaboo, it's more comfortable there" "Its alright Sammy, I was trying to stay awake for when you two came back home to make sure you two were alright"

A smile was dragged across Sam's face when you said that, he like this, he liked this y/n, the y/n you used to be before all...this happened

You walked over to Dean and asked if he was okay and he said only a few manageable cuts. you nodded and walked to your room to sleep.

When you left Sam said to Dean "You think that Jody trick worked?" "That was a trick?" "Of course it was Dean, I know she loves Jody but even if she doesn't like being away from us for that long" "well I guess we'll see tomorrow."

When you woke up you ran downstairs to see your brothers in the kitchen, Sam making breakfast and Dean at the kitchen table talking to Sam. Sam notices you and smiles, "Mornin Sunshine. since you're still grounded you're getting waffles instead of pancakes." You look at him for a second and start to laugh. He looks at Dean, then back to you, "What?" "That's the best you got? pfft come on Sammy you can discipline me harder" you say during laughing fits. "Okay then, no breakfast?" "That's more like it"

You start to walk to your room when you turn around and asked Sam "Hey Sam?" "Yeah?" "I-" You realize if you asked him, you would cry in front of him, and you don't want that. "I- Nevermind its nothing. I'll be in the training room if you two need me" You turn around to walk into the training room and start working out. an hour and thirty minutes later you turn around to see Sam with his arms folded leaning on the door frame

"Oh, hey," you say out of breath

"Hey yourself. What were you wanting to say to me a while ago?" You looked a bit shaken up but you let out an "Its nothing I said, don't worry 'bout it." Sam looks a little bit worried but with everything that's going on with you, he needs you to talk. "Come on bugaboo, let's talk and Dean doesn't have to know unless you want him to" "Sam its nothing okay? Drop it" "y/n-" "Sam, dammit I said I don't want to talk" Sam jumped at the sudden snap of your voice. "I'll be in the library if you want to talk"

You're in your room doing fuck all since Dean took your phone and your tv when you hear a knock on your door.

"Its Dean can I come in?" "......Yeah"

Dean comes in and sees you laying down on the floor with red eyes.

"Talk to me, why did you go all 'hulk' on Sammy?"

"No, I don't want to"

"Sucks to be you, Princess, you don't have a choice"

"The hell I don't" you sit up and turn to him "You can't make me Dean"

"The hell I cant" mocking you "I'm not leaving till you decide to make this into a chick flick moment"

"I thought you hate chick flick moments"

"Yeah I do, now talk y/n"

"Dean I cant"

"What do you mean you cant?"

"Dean I-, I just cant"

"So you want Sam to take you to Jody's and keep you there?"

".....No"

"Then talk princess"

You high in defeat "It's complicated"

"Well you better find the right words hon, or its gonna be a long night"

Dean walks away and you feel like you just left earths void.

Dinner was grossly quiet, and you knew it was because of you. After dinner, Sam and Dean left to go to the library to read up on some lore and thirty minutes later you walk up to the library door frame and just stood there for a solid minute and they didn't notice you. "Hey." They jump at your voice and look at you "Hey y/n" they both said in unison. "I just wanna say sorry for the way I've been acting lately. I've been a total dick towards you guys when I know you two are just looking out for me. I bet I was hell to raise and pulling this shit is just adding more stress to you guys"

They both had a face of both shock and...relief?

"Y/n, come here," Sam says. You hesitate but you do so anyway "You have no idea how happy I am that you said that" He gives you a big moose hug and you hugged him back. "And yes you were absolute hell to raise" "Dean!" "What? She said it not me" You laugh and let go of Sam to hug Dean. "Sammy?" "Yes?" "No Jody's?" "No Jody's" you right in relief. "Not unless you start acting like miss priss again" You fastly stare at Dean "Call me that again and I'll show you a miss priss" Sam and Dean both laugh. "Am I still grounded?" Sam laughs and says "You got suspended of course you are" You frown and that's when Sam said "Two weeks." You turn to see him and smiled brightly. You start walking away when you say "God I love you boys" under your breath, but nevertheless they heard you and you know they'll be teasing you about it for weeks

[aelaer]

Whumptober 15: Scars

Don’t ask me where this came from; I wanted to write something short. This is the opposite of short.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Beverly Strange, Eugene Strange, Donna Strange Warnings: Just a bucket-load of angst. Canonical death by drowning, as well.

15. Scars 

Stephen got his first scar right on his inner wrist from before his memory got particularly good, because from what he knew, he always had it. Mom claimed that it was all Aunt Nancy's fault that he fell down in the first place, but Aunt Nancy was a rather tall and somewhat scary woman, so he never pursued it when he wondered about it and forgot the story when she was less scary and more annoying.

At age twelve, the scars were the remnants of hard play found on a farm in northern Nebraska. He was particularly impressed with the one on his knee that he got from a tree at school that he successfully climbed up but not so successfully climbed down. It was bleeding everywhere and it hurt so badly but at the same time it was really cool and he couldn't stop watching the doctors as they stitched him back up. He taught himself how to stitch after that, stealing Mom's supplies and trying to copy the stitches on his jeans and shirts, then Donna's stuffed animals, and then copying the ones he saw in a book from the library about surgeons and surgery.

Even Dad was impressed when he heard that he wanted to be a doctor, after his initial freakout about him stealing Mom's supplies to learn sewing. "Doctors help a lot of people, and unlike teachers, you can make good money from it." He didn't really consider the money when he started, but that sounded like a pretty nice perk, and he really didn't want to be a teacher anyway. Donna wanted to be the teacher, and told Dad that she didn't care about the stupid money, anyway. He laughed and told her, "Okay," and the conversation ended.

He worked throughout his junior and senior years to get all the money he needed to apply to universities all around the country. His physics teacher was a decent sort and pointed out all the best schools and where he could apply for grants and financial aid. He was on track to be valedictorian of his high school graduating class of a whopping size of 26 people, and that wasn't quite like a graduating class of 100 or 600 but it was still something.

Then he got accepted into Columbia University with a full ride scholarship. He freaked out. His principal freaked out. His physics teacher freaked out. One of them told the rest of the faculty in his school, and they all freaked out.

His parents also freaked out, but not in the same way as his principal and teacher.

"Columbia," Mom said with a light frown. "Isn't that in New York?"

"Yeah," he said.

"That's a bit far, Stephen," Mom said, and something deep within him twinged with hurt.

"Don't be daft, Beverly," Dad replied. "They're offering to pay for everything. He's gonna be gone for med school anyway after."

"There's a medical school at UNO," she replied. "Also ones at USD, DMU, and UMKC. And that hardly matters for undergrad; he can go to a school in Omaha or Lincoln, or maybe somewhere in South Dakota or Iowa."

"Yeah, but they're not paying for it," Dad argued.

Stephen decidedly did not tell them when he got a full ride scholarship to USD two weeks later.

Mom eventually accepted he was going to Columbia whether she liked it or not and didn't bring it up again for a long time.

——— 

At age nineteen, his most prominent scars were internal, written by the complete anguish and fury of his younger sister's death the summer after his first year of college. He should have known something was wrong when she didn't come up from the lake immediately. He should have known and pulled her from its depths faster, performed CPR faster, and Donna would still be alive and entering her senior year of high school and figuring out where she wanted to go to college to become an elementary school teacher.

But Donna was dead. Dead, drowned Donna.

His parents never said they blamed him, but Stephen knew that they did, because he was the one studying to become a doctor and he had failed to see the signs and rescue her fast enough. Of course they blamed him.

Two weeks after they buried Donna, he couldn't stand it anymore and rescheduled his flight back to New York for that weekend. If his parents couldn't take him, he'd call for a shuttle. He didn't want to spend the money he earned tutoring on things like shuttles, but he'd rather do that than spend any more time in that house.

Two days before his flight, his parents called him down to the kitchen. Dad was holding a beer; he spent the last two weeks holding a beer.

"Stephen," Mom started, clinging her hands together. "We'd like to talk with you."

An ominous feeling settled in the depths of his gut. "About?"

"Sit down," Dad said, voice gruff with grief, and he did so.

"It's been—" Mom's voice stopped, and she cleared her throat. "It's been a very, very hard summer, Stephen. The worst four weeks of my life." He nodded in agreement, and waited patiently as Mom got a hold of her emotions again. "It's— it's a reminder to us, how— how life can change in an instant. How little time we actually have. And, and Stevie—" He froze at the nickname; she rarely used it, per his request some several years ago, and when it slipped out he often did not like what she had to say next. "We see you so rarely. You're so far."

Stephen cleared his throat. "I visit during Christmas. I made Easter, too."

Mom shook her head. "That's not enough, not when it can—" She swallowed and heaved a shuddering breath.

"What your mother is trying to say," said Dad, "is that we want you to transfer to somewhere closer. Omaha, Lincoln, South Dakota, maybe even Des Moines or Kansas City, though the first three are preferable."

He stared at them. "You want me to transfer and pay thousands of dollars to go to a worse school?" 

"They're all fine schools," Dad argued. "And— don't worry about costs. We'll handle that."

"With what money?" he asked, incredulous.

"Don't worry about it," he repeated, more strongly this time and in a tone that demanded respect. Stephen considered arguing, anyway, but Dad continued onward before he could. "The money's beside the point, anyway. The school's are a bit far to drive to every day, but you can come home on the weekends."

"You're asking me to throw away the opportunities a place like Columbia University can give me for— for what? To make yourselves feel better?"

"Stephen!" Dad shouted.

Mom put a hand on Dad's arm. "Eugene," she murmured, then looked back at him. "Family is all we have, Stephen."

"Family is all you have," he argued. "I have a future, a career waiting for me beyond all this. And I'm not going to kill my future just because Donna's dead!"

That stunned them into silence. He could tell Dad was furious, too. He continued before he could lose his nerve. "And I've already booked a flight to go back to New York on Saturday. I'm going to the airport whether you drive me or not." He stood up and ignored Dad's angry shout at his back, and he left the house to walk for a while.

Late Friday night, Mom came to his room and asked him quietly, "What time do you need to be at the airport?"

He ignored the pang of guilt in his heart at her voice. "By noon."

"We'll leave at ten," she said, and he nodded and she left without saying good night.

The next morning she drove him to Eppley Airfield in Omaha. The ride was silent and Stephen tried to banish the silence by reading one of his textbooks.

About five minutes away from the airport, Mom asked, "Are you sure about this, Stephen?"

He couldn't look at her. "I'm sure," he muttered at the window.

She told him, "Be safe," and he nodded and the conversation ended.

———— 

The scars on his heart began to harden as they took on layers. More came that Christmas, when, against his better judgement, he agreed to his mother's pleas to visit over the holiday. She asked him to stay the whole winter break, but he lied and said he had an intersession class in January and could only stay a week. He didn't want to have to reschedule for his own sanity; he wasn't sure if he could handle his mother's disappointment if he did.

She was still disappointed, but over Christmas, the disappointment was largely overwhelmed by the grief of the first Christmas without Donna. None of them attempted to really change the atmosphere, beyond his mother's half-hearted results the first two days he was back in Nebraska. But it was too difficult an illusion to continue with his sister's spectre haunting every room, every tradition, and every memory.

His father was drinking a six-pack a day throughout his time there. From what he could see, this was business as usual.

Stephen only approached him on the subject the day after Christmas. "You're going to kill your liver at the rate you're drinking those."

"It's my liver to kill," his father replied.

He fell to silence and left the matter alone after that.

When he got back to New York and the faculty was back at Columbia, he talked with his advisor on taking a full summer course and any intersession courses available to cut his already fast-tracked graduation date of three and a half years down to three.

After he told his mother that he was staying in New York over the summer to graduate even earlier than planned, her weekly calls became bi-monthly, and slowly petered out to once a month by the time he graduated.

Throughout the rest of undergrad, he never went back to Nebraska.

———— 

After graduating, he spent a year working in a laboratory as he applied for as many schools with a combined MD-PhD program as he could afford. By the end of that year, he was back at Columbia within their rigorous program.

He completed it in a new record time. His advisors called him a prodigy. One told him that if his research continued down this new, innovative path, that he may yet change the field of neurosurgery. He didn't outright say Nobel Prize, but he didn't have to.

He entered his residency at the Columbia-affiliated New York-Presbyterian Hospital while still in his mid-twenties, on track to being a full-fledged neurosurgeon in his early thirties.

The monthly calls from his mother were no longer monthly. He didn't remember the last time he talked to his father.

Not too long after he turned thirty, he got a call in between shifts from his parents' landline (as they really didn't do cellphones; the service out on the farm was apparently terrible). He answered, "Hello mother," trying to keep as polite and patient as he was able.

"Not her," came the gravelly voice of his father, and he sounded awful. "But it's about her."

"What?" Stephen straightened in his seat. "What is it?"

His father didn't say anything for a moment, then: "She's got ovarian cancer. Stage four."

Oh God. "Where is she?"

"Overnight in Omaha. I'm driving back down early tomorrow." Another pause. "Your mom wants to see you."

He swallowed. "I'll— I'll see what I can do."

And he did. Residents didn't get that much time off, but Stephen hadn't taken a day off barring a horrible flu two years ago. He was permitted a couple days leave, and at the encouragement of a fellow resident by the name of Christine, asked for a few days around Christmas as well. He was granted them.

It wasn't a very happy Christmas, but his mother seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and he did his best to keep his spirits high around her, even as his father silently drank nearby.

On Christmas Eve, he found her thumbing a card when she thought he was not looking. Stephen later picked it up and found it was a Christmas card made by him when he was seven-years-old, signed by both him and Donna's childish signatures, and addressed to Mom and Dad.

He realized he did not remember when they stopped being Mom and Dad.

———— 

Beverly Strange died in the autumn of the following year. After her funeral, he did not return to Nebraska until his father passed away two years later from liver failure.

The service was small and their assets easily determined his. For some reason, he did not immediately put the farm up for sale the moment it became his.

As his paycheck steadily increased, he paid for the farm's upkeep and for someone to maintain it, but as the idea of selling or even leasing it entered his mind, he pushed it away for another day until the maintenance just became a monthly automatic payment that left his account. It eventually stopped entering his thoughts at all.

The scars on his heart remained. Christine, fellow-resident-now-fellow-doctor, tried to chip away at it, and she was partially successful in a way that few were. But even she could only do so much and her efforts eventually fell to the wayside.

Ten years after his mother's death, the most prominent of his scars to the naked eye were the blatant lines crossing both of his malformed hands.

But they were far from the first.

———— 

Notes:

I was going to write a short thing about his hands. Then this happened instead.

I know a brother, Victor, exists, but I honestly have no idea how to incorporate him into MCU Stephen's life, so he's just… not mentioned. Sorry Victor.

I presumed that, like most schools in California, that the unis in the Midwest are referred to by their acronyms. If I'm incorrect, please let me know!

College acronyms:

UNO = University of Nebraska Omaha

USD = University of South Dakota

DMU = Des Moines University

UMKC = University of Missouri, Kansas City

For those unfamiliar with American slang, a "full ride scholarship" straight out of high school means that the university is paying for your tuition, all educational supplies, and often boarding for all four years. While universities often give grants for parts of education based on both merit and financial need (ranging from a few hundred to tens of thousands of dollars, depending on the university), full rides are much rarer and to the top universities in the country, even moreso. 

To put this in perspective, I have a real life example: one of my friends in high school was valedictorian of a graduating class of 600. Her merit plus her family's very poor financial status got her a full ride to Stanford. The tuition alone to Stanford (a private, world-famous university) is $50,000; with housing and supplies, it's closer to $60,000 a year. She got all of that paid by the university (yeah, these private universities have a stupid amount of money). She worked her ass off for that scholarship, though. I think she also became a medical doctor, funny enough. But anyway, I imagine Stephen getting something similar as, along with the majority of families in the US being completely unable to afford private university's astronomical costs, Nebraska's cost of living is nothing compared to New York's — wasn't in the 90's, and it's probably a larger gap now. So combined merit/financial-based scholarships for such schools are pretty common.

[melinoe-writes]

sincerely yours — chapter three

Summary: Eisley Tusie was no stranger to Saturday detentions, but there was just something about that one Saturday that changed her.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: foul language

"GODDAMMIT!"

Vernon stormed into the library. Only John and Eisley were nonchalant, the rest of the detention detainees looked almost horrified, and were trying to conceal it very badly.

"Why is that door closed?" Vernon demanded.

"How're we supposed to know?" Bender replied defensively, "We're not supposed to move, right?"

Ignoring the troublemaker, Vernon turned his sights to Claire, "Why?"

"We were just sitting here like we were supposed to," she answered quietly.

Setting his angry gaze around the room, he demanded again, "Who closed that door?"

"I think a screw fell out of it," Bender murmured loudly.

"Just closed, sir," Andrew chimed.

Turning to Allison, Vernon barked, "Who?" The girl merely squeaked and slammed her face onto the table, her hood coming up to conceal her head.

"She doesn't talk, sir," Bender informed the assistant principal helpfully.

Heatedly looking back at John, Vernon snapped, "Give me that screw, Bender!"

"I don't have it."

"You want me to yank you out of that seat and shake it out of you?"

"Screws fall out all the time, the world's an imperfect place."

By this point, Vernon was practically seething, "Give it to me, Bender."

Eisley raised her hand, bringing Vernon's attention away from her detention friend, "Uh, yeah, why would anybody want to steal a screw?"

"That's another Saturday here for you, Miss Tusie," he told her. She suspected that it was only because she made him look ridiculous and he didn't like her.

Forgetting about trying to get the screw back, he went to see if the door could be held open by a folding chair. Eisley sighed and leaned forward to put her elbows on her desk, chin in her hands. Watching him, she wondered how a man so stupid could think of himself as better than his students. John leaned back in his seat and turned his face so that he could see her, "Thanks, sweets."

"No problem," she answered, half smiling.

A noise brought them both back to what was happening, and they both looked up to see that Vernon had gotten Andrew to help him move a magazine stand in the doorway to keep the door open. Eisley snickered when Bender said, "That's very clever, sir, but what if there's a fire?" Vernon froze. "I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children would be unwise at this juncture in your career."

A moment passed before Vernon shouted at Andrew, "Alright, what are you doing with this? Get this out of here, for God's sake! What's the matter with you? Come on!" When the stand was back where it belonged, Vernon snapped, "Get back to your seat! I expected a little more from a varsity letterman." Andrew looked down and Eisley almost felt bad for him. "You're not fooling anybody, Bender," Vernon said, glaring at him again. "The next screw that falls out is going to be you!" Bender irritably mumbled something under his breath that even Eisley couldn't make out. "What was that?"

"Eat my shorts," Bender said slowly, condescendingly. Everyone turned to observe the interaction.

"You just bought yourself another Saturday, mister."

Mockingly, he muttered, "Oh, Christ."

"You just bought one more right there!"

"Well, I'm free the Saturday after. Beyond that, I'm going to have to check my calendar!"

"Good!" Vernon snapped, "'Cause it's going to be filled! We'll keep going! You want another one? Say the word, just say the word! Instead of going to prison, you'll come here! Are you through?"

There was a short pause, as if John was considering his next course of action, before he let out a loud, "No!"

"I'm doing society a favor!" Vernon exclaimed.

"So?"

"That's another one, right now! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch your step! You want another one?"

"Yes!"

"You got it!" Eisley's head was spinning. How many did John have now? "You got another one, right there! That's another one pal!"

Unable to stop herself, Eisley bursted, "Cut it out!" Surprised, John turned to look at her, and she shook her head at him, her face a mask of alarm. He only shot her a smirk before turning back to Vernon.

"You should really listen to your little girlfriend, Bender," Vernon spit. "You through?"

"Not even close, bud."

"Good! You got one more, right there!"

"Do you really think I give a shit?" Bender asked, this time quieter, although not by much. Eisley covered her face with her hands in exasperation, unable to believe that one teenager was able to piss off a grown man so much in the span of just a few minutes.

"Another!" Vernon told him. "You through?"

Bender's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully, "How many is that?"

Before Vernon could answer, Brian chimed in with, "That's seven, including the one when we first came in and you asked Mister Vernon whether Barry Manilow knew that he raided his closet."

Vernon, tearing his eyes away from the geek, glared back at Bender, "Now it's eight."

"Excuse me, sir," Brian interrupted, "It's seven." He held up seven fingers.

"Shut it, Peewee!" Vernon snapped. "You're mine, Bender. For two months, I got you."

John, looking irritated, said, "What can I say? I'm thrilled!"

"Oh, I'm sure that exactly what you want these people to believe. You know something, Bender? You ought to spend a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people. You might be better off." Moving away and taking a deep breath, he finally looked around the room, as if remembering that Bender wasn't the only detention detainee, "Alright, that's it! I'm going to be right outside those doors!" Eisley looked at Bender, who mouthed along to the next part, "The next time I have to come in here, I'm cracking skulls!"

As Vernon walked out, Eisley took a moment to ask herself what the hell just happened. She wondered if that had actually just happened, if Vernon had actually just inconspicuously threatened Bender. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted just a moment later, when the door slammed closed behind Vernon and John, livid, shouted at the top of his lungs, "Fuck you!"

[yellowcanna]

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Status: Ongoing

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CHAPTER 6

LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY (DAY 1: SUNDAY)

None of the U.A students knew exactly how it had happened.

After the teachers left, they all went back into their rooms to get ready.

Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, Asui, Sato, and Aoyama were the fastest ones to finish, as their appearances fit the normal criteria. As for Shouji, all he needed to do was to retract his extra limbs. Iida, Mineta, and Jirou took a bit more time, but their unique characteristics were simple enough to cover.

The rest had to look through the boxes of clothes Kunikida left them, seeing what they could use to mask themselves. The ones who had it worst were undoubtedly Ashido and Hagakure, for the two girls needed to smear foundations on their faces. They didn't know what to feel when they found that the blond-haired man had even prepared make-up in the box of clothes…

After they finished dressing up, the group headed off to begin their first exploration of Yokohama.

However, the moment they stepped out into the busy street, all of them froze. The first thing their eyes laid on wasn’t the people or the shops around them. It was five, sleek buildings dyed in black towering over the city.

“Woah! What’s that?” Kirishima said in awe as he stared at the building that looked completely out of place in contrast to the retro feel this city was giving off.

“Where did those popped out from?!” Sero gapped.

“We must have been driving away from those buildings, that’s why we didn't see it," Yaoyorozu explained, remembering back to the path they were talking. They had been going straight after all, so those buildings had been behind them the entire time?

“Ah!” Uraraka clapped her hands as a thought came to her. “Could those be the government buildings?”

“Gero, it’s possible!” Asui nodded, agreeing with her friend.

“Truly magnificent, they are overseeing the city itself! Look at how each of those buildings faced each part of the city!” Iida praised with stars in his eyes.

“Government buildings?” Midoriya looked over those towers. There was an odd feeling in his heart as he looked at those dark silhouettes. A call of his name snapped him out of thought as he looked down to see his classmates walking off.

Being surrounded by Old Humans was another very interesting experience. It was completely different from just observing from the bus. Just standing there within a crowd of people all having the same characteristic was very…strange.

It was a weird feeling none of them could describe, and it would be a lie to say that they felt comfortable. 

When the girls saw some beautiful kimonos being put on the display window, they wanted to go in and check it out, only to remember how none of them had Yokohama currency. So they continued on their journey, deciding to leave shopping for another day after they got the money.

That was when they came across a library.

The library wouldn't require any money and there won't be any clerks trying to introduce their products to them.  Thinking that perhaps they could find more information on Yokohama—especially Ability—everyone agreed to go in there.

And then it happened…

“…Mineta-kun?”

None of them could react in time. They didn’t know how it even happened.

“Hey, bitch! What did you do?!” Bakugou was the first to jump out as he screamed at the girl.

“Wait, Kacchan!” Midoriya quickly stopped his childhood friend by jumping between him and the girl. That girl…she definitely did something, but what?

What exactly happened that could make a person disappear within a blink of an eye without alarming any of them? Midoriya could only think of one—no, there was only this one possibility, but to think they’ll meet one so soon?

“Ah?! That disgusting pervert was looking up my dress and you got the nerve to question me?!” The girl said through gritted teeth.

“You’re an Ability user.” Todoroki calmly spoke out the thought that was going through everyone’s head.

“So what if I am?” The girl’s eyes narrowed as she slowly looked through each of them.

“We’re very sorry!” Midoriya hurriedly apologized with a bow. After all, they can’t make a scene, especially after Kunikida specifically told them not to use their Quirks. Without Quirks, how could they stand up to the girl whose power was still unknown to them? And for all they know, she could be an ordinary civilian!

“Hey, Deku! What are you doing apologizing to that bitch?!” Bakugou roared behind him.

Iida also thought of the same thing as Midoriya and stepped up as well. “Mineta-kun didn’t mean it! He was just—”

“Didn’t mean it?!” That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

The girl whipped around and pointed at the old ladder leaning against the bookshelf. “I was standing on that ladder trying to reach that book and he was standing right under me looking up and drooling!”

“Stupid Mineta!” Hagakure crushed her scream into a hush whine like many others. Though as much as they all wanted to shout at Mineta right now, they have to get him back first.

“Uh…I could get that book for you?” Sero tried helpfully.

“Who asked you?!” The girl exploded as Sero instantly raised his hands and backed away. Jesus, this girl’s temper was as bad as Bakugou!

“Then what can we do to have you give him back to us?” Jirou hastily cut in before the situation could worsen.

“You want him back so much?” The girl smirked as the air around her suddenly changed. The anger she was displaying on her face was gone in a blink of an eye, replaced by abnormal calmness. The sudden change in her was unnerving and had all the students unconsciously raised their guards against this one girl who couldn’t be that much older than them.

“How about you tell me who the hell are you and what do you want from me?” The girl spoke in an icy tone.

“W-what do you mean?” Yaoyorozu swallowed as her heart pounded. It can’t be that they’ve been found out already?

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve been following me for the past half an hour and into this book shop.”

“Hah?!” Ashido exclaimed, nearly exposing her face as she clumsily grabbed her scarf and pulled it up. Unfortunately, her gesture only made the girl’s eyes narrow.

“Why would we follow you?!” Kaminari shouted. “We don’t even know you!”

“Hold up! This is all a misunderstanding!” Kirishima tried to convince her.

“We just came in here because we wanted to look at some books!” Uraraka added. “We weren’t following you! Really!”

“Yeah, we’re not anyone suspicious!” Hagakure frantically said.

“No matter how I look at it you’re the most suspicious one.” The girl deadpanned as she glared at Hagakure who was currently the very definition of suspicious. “You’re Ability users, aren’t you?”

“Huh?!”

Of all things the girl might accuse them of, they were not expecting this.

“Why would you think we’re Ability users?” Yaoyorozu carefully questioned. She needed to approach this carefully. The girl's temper was short and currently, none of them has any idea what happened to Mineta. Without knowing anything, they can’t protect themselves if the girl suddenly uses her power on them.

“Don’t try to avoid my question. I’m going to ask you one last time.” The girl’s face twisted into the perfect balance of annoyance and anger. “Who. Are. You?”

It was at this moment that the gravity of the situation finally hit them.

This girl was an Ability user—an Old Human with powers that they know nothing about. What’s more, the murder bleeding from her eyes was real. Having all experienced Villains first hand, all of them could tell that this girl wasn’t just a normal civilian. She was someone who could kill them without blinking an eye.

It was at this moment that they truly began fearing for Mineta’s safety.

“Yeah, we’re Ability users, what’s it to you?” Bakugou’s sudden declaration made his classmates looked to him in surprise.

Midoriya almost stumbled when Bakugou shoved him to the side. With his hands tucked in his pocket, his childhood friend began walking up to the girl.

“Bakugou-kun?!” Iida looked at the explosive boy as if he had lost it.

“Wait, Iida-kun!” Midoriya gasped, carefully standing behind Iida’s larger frame and gave a small tug on his shirt to stop him.

Iida paused in his step, but sensing that Midoriya didn’t want to draw the girl’s attention, he didn’t look back.

At the same time, Todoroki also discreetly positioned himself before his other classmates, using his body as a barrier to stop them from doing anything. The entire time, his eyes were on Bakugou who was getting closer and closer to the girl.

“You look so weak I wouldn’t even peg you for an Ability user!” Bakugou taunted as a vein on the girl’s head throbbed. “I don’t see why those bastards wanted us to bring you in!”

All of the students stared at Bakugou with a mixture of confusion and disbelieve. But even so, none of them stepped up to do anything, because they knew Bakugou must have something in mind—especially when he began talking nonsense.

“That’s right!” Kirishima joined in. Although he has no idea what’s going on, he was going to support Bakugou. “Let’s just hurry and just bring her in!”

“What did you say?” The girl glowered at Bakugou who now stopped right in front of her.

Midoriya swallowed. That’s right, this was the best chance they got right now.

From what he had analyzed, to be able to make Mineta disappear without even so much as moving could only mean that this girl’s power was something similar to teleportation. The girl must have moved Mineta to somewhere and confined him.

In other words, if they could also get the girl to use her Ability on them, then they will find Mineta.

“What a moron.” The girl snorted, the anger on her face lessened as she gave Bakugou a condescending look. This sudden change took them all off by surprise. "Whichever organization you're from, they must be desperate. I didn’t think armatures like you would exist in Yokohama.”

“What did you say?” Bagkuou gritted his teeth as he glared down the girl who didn’t even flinch.

“You want to taunt me into using my Ability and let you reunite with your friend, right?”

“Eh?! Was that right?!” Hagakure gasped as she looked at Bakugou. If they were capable of seeing her face, it must be one of pure shock right now.

…And then, their surroundings suddenly changed.

There was no warning at all. To Midoriya, it only felt like he had blinked and all of the sudden, the scene before him became foreign. He blinked a couple of times, staring at the magenta sky over his head before to the checkered floor he stood upon. It took a full five seconds before his brain reacted as chill crawled down his spine.

“…Eh?” Sero blinked as he did a double-take at the sudden change in their environment. 

“What the heck?!” Kirishima frantically looked around.

“What is this?” Uraraka whispered as she stared at the gigantic blocks, presents, ribbons, and balloons decorating the place. There was even a table and tea set. It was as if they arrived in a gigantic dollhouse or something.

“Hey bitch, where did you bring us?!” Bakugou snapped at the girl who was sitting on top of a stack of blocks, looking down upon them like tiny ants.

“This is my Kingdom.” The girl replied as she stood up with her hands laced behind her back. “Welcome to Anne’s chamber.”

“Could this be…Ability?!” Midoriya’s eyes dilated as he took in this space. Was this is an Ability? If so, then does that mean this girl’s power was to manifest an entire dimension and pull people in? Can something like that even exist?

“An Ability? But that’s…!” Yaoyorozu looked around in disbelieve.

“Impossible! There’s no way—” Iida couldn’t believe it as well.

"No, it's possible," Todoroki said as he carefully observed his surroundings, refusing to let go even the smallest bit of details. After all, Abilities aren’t Quirks. These are powers they’ve never heard of, it was only natural the effect would be something out of their knowledge as well.

Bakugou was putting on a confident smirk, but the droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face betrayed what he was actually feeling.  

How could one person have the power to tear apart space and create a new one? Just who in the world was this girl?

“G-guys! Look at this!” Hearing Ashido’s shout, everyone turned to see Ashido standing by a white door. The door was designed elegantly, like those ancient western doors the kids remembered seeing in oversea movies. Despite its beauty, it was an odd place for a door to be, considering how there was nothing but the sky behind it.

“Come over here! Quick!”

“What is it?” Hagakure ran over, looking out the window on the door only to yelp in surprise.

One after another the students gathered by the doorway. When they peered out the window, they saw the library they were in just seconds ago. But that wasn’t what shocked them. The library has huge window panels, and through the glass, they were able to see the street and people beyond.

Everything—the car, the people, the birds in the sky—they were all frozen.

“Time…stopped?” Midoriya whispered in disbelieve.

“What is going on?! First, we're in a weird place that’s not even real and now the time stopped?!” Kaminari furiously scratched his head, unable to wrap his head around any of this nonsense.

“Hey! I thought this was the sky but it’s just a wall!” Sero’s scream had everyone looking over to see that their classmate got a hand against the eerie sky. To them, it looked like the boy was just hovering his palm in midair, but when they stretched out their hands, they were soon met with an obstacle. It was as if there was an invisible wall there, preventing them from going further.

Midoriya gasped as he looked around the rails surrounding this place, noticing how it was forming a square. This wasn’t a floating platform like he had originally thought.

This was a room, with the sky being the wallpaper!

They were trapped in a room.

Uraraka reached out, about to grab the door handle when the Ability user’s voice came from behind them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

They all turned to see the girl standing up from on top of those blocks.

“That door will take you back to the real world.”

Real-world—Midoriya committed those keywords into memory. He needed to hurry and figure out just what this girl’s power was.

“But once you go through that door, you will lose all memories of what happened in this space, including your little friend there.” She smirked, left hand resting on her hip while the other jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to another door on the other side of the room.

That door was like the polar opposite of the white door. It was the same western-themed door, except it was black. Also, the wall around the door looked like normal walls made out of ordinary bricks instead of the reddish-pink sky.

“Mineta-kun?!”

They all rushed for the other door. When nearing the girl, they were all wary, but the redhead just watched them as they passed by. Once they arrived safely without meeting any obstacles, they peered through the window and saw their lost classmate Mineta.

“Gero! Mineta-chan!”

“It is Mineta!”

“Mineta-kun!”

“What’s up with that creepy room?!”

Shouts resonated through the space as everyone called out to Mineta who was separated from them by a metallic door. The room behind the door got no walls, no ceiling, it didn’t even have floors! It was just pitched darkness with wooden hands stretching out of the abyss, gripping onto Mineta and suspending him in midair.

The boy’s eyes were wide with his eyeballs completely rolled to the back of his head. White foams were slowly flowing down from his open mouth, disappearing into the shadows beneath. Mineta was out cold, and by the looks, he had fainted from some sort of shock.

“I can’t open! It’s locked!” Iida gritted as he pulled the door’s handle with all his might.

“Move!” Bagkuou snapped impatiently. Tiny sparks dancing on his palm were the only warning before a strong, but carefully controlled explosion blasted against the door.

“Hey, Bakugou!” Kirishima gasped.

“Bakugou-kun!” Iida shouted. “Have you forgotten—”

“Shut up and use your brains, moron! Right now we’re trapped in that woman’s fucking power, you know what it means, don’t you?” Bakugou smirked widely despite his fingers twitching at the irritation of how the girl had insulted him before doing exactly what they wanted.

The woman had brought them in here to taunt them, but she just dug her own grave.

This space isolated from the rest of the world meant no one else but them are in this space and knows what happened here.

In other words, they can activate their Quirks without the fear of being found out!

Fortunately, the smarter students caught on fairly fast, though the dumber ones still looked rather clueless.

“Try as much as you like, but it won’t work!” A snide remark reminded them that the girl was still there, enjoying their futile attempt to save their friend. “The only way to open that door is with the key.”

The students looked down and indeed saw a keyhole on the door.

"Give us the key," Bakugou demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The girl didn’t look pleased by Bakugou’s attitude, but she snapped her finger as a golden key appeared, hovering in front of her.

“Here you go.” The girl waved her hand at the key. She smirked when no one made a move to take it. “What’s wrong? You wanted the key, didn’t you?”

Something was up. They all knew the girl wouldn’t give them the key so easily. Why would she pull them into this place otherwise?

“I’ll do it.” Iida stepped forward.

“Dude, this is obviously a trap!” Kirishima warned.

"Don't worry, if anything happens I can run," Iida muttered just low enough so the girl wouldn’t overhear as he began to approach her.

One step….two steps…three steps…

Twenty-seventh step.

Iida stood in front of the key and the girl. He watched the redhead carefully as he slowly reached out his hand before he felt Goosebumps crawling over his skin.

What was this feeling?

It was as if he was being watched, but it wasn’t the girl. He had kept his eyes on her the entire time! He didn’t see her do anything, so what—

“IIDA-KUN!”

Urgent cries of his name snapped him out as the engine in his legs roared. With breakneck speed, he darted to the right, aiming to get away from the girl.

However…

“Too slow.”

Iida only saw shadow covering his eyes before what felt like walls slammed into him from both sides, completely immobilizing him.

“IIDA-KUN!” Midoriya, as well as many others, rushed forward towards Iida the instant they saw that…that thing materialized out of nowhere.

BAM

The black door that wouldn’t open no matter how hard they tried now slammed open on its own.

“KYAAAA!” Koda’s high pitched scream was what made them risk glancing away from Iida, looking behind just in time to see Koda—engulfed by wooden hands—got dragged back into the darkness.

“Koda-kun!”

“Gero!” Asui croaked as she—who was second last in the group and closest to the doorway—got caught by those hands as well.

“Tsuyu-chan!” Uraraka shouted as she jumped back and grabbed her friend’s ankle just as Asui was being pulled back. Like snakes swarming into prey, wooden hands snaked around her boy, gripping onto her limbs to immobilize her with another hand grabbing her by the throat, causing her to choke.

“Uraraka-chan! Tsuyu-chan!” Midoriya shouted, digging his heel into the floor as he sharply changed direction—only to be met face to face with Iida.

The green-haired boy's face twisted between horror and shock as he stared at the class president who was being tightly squeezed between a pair of giant wooden hands. And right there, hovering in front of him was an ugly doll with hair similar to the Ability user girl.

“Midoriya!” Seeing how their target had disappeared, Todoroki spun around to find Midoriya coming face to face with that weird floating doll. However, his attention was soon grabbed by the screams coming from the far back.

Stomping his left foot down, a pillar of ice shot across the room and towards the endless hands coming out from behind the door. To his shock, his ice barely held those hands stilled for three seconds before it shattered, leaving behind no damages to those wooden hands as they reeled in Asui and Uraraka.

At the same time, Midoriya had leaped up, first thrusting towards the doll’s face as he screamed, “Let him go!”

The loud sound of impact practically shook the room.

But…that was all. Just the sound that indicated the amount of strength he had used.

Midoriya stared in horror at that doll whose face didn’t even have the slightest bit of scratch.

How?

Even if he held back in fear of Iida getting caught up, he still used quite a bit of his strength. So how?

“Get away! Don’t worry about me, Midoriya!" Iida managed to choke out before smaller wooden hands grabbed onto him. The doll let go and instantly Iida was pulled towards the door. Being pulled along were Ashido, who was screaming as she kept releasing acid over the hands, but her acid only rolled off them like harmless water.

“I got you!” Sero shot out his tape, wrapping it around Iida’s ankle as Sato grabbed Sero’s tape and pulled with everything he got.

From another, Kirishima and Kaminari were grabbing onto Ashido’s hands as they tried to pull her free.

Tokoyami was using his dark shadow, desperately fending off the hands while protecting Hagakure who was hastily peeling off the layers of clothing on her body.

Shouji had grabbed onto Jirou, running from the hands with Jirou constantly trying to counter the hands with high-frequency sound, but that too was useless.

Forgetting that he had a trench coat on, Ojiro tried to flick out his tail only to be restricted by the large coat. This moment of delay led to his swift capture along with Aoyama who was screaming at the creepy hands grabbing him.

“Think, there must be some way!” Yaoyorozu told herself repeatedly.

With her Quirk, she could easily conjure a metal cuff over where the area where the hand grabbed her. By enlarging the cuff, she could easily slip out of those hands’ grasps, but if this continues she will reach her limitation very soon. She has to think of something before that happens. There must be a way for them to escape this place!

“Everyone!” Midoriya gasped, deciding to ignore the doll for now as he ran to save them. That was the biggest mistake. Midoriya had been way too confident with his speed. With Full Cowl enhancing all of his body’s physic, he hadn’t considered the fact that the doll would still be faster than him, given how when the doll went after Iida it was still at a speed he could follow with his bare eyes.

Midoriya was halfway across the room when the doll just appeared in front of him as if it had teleported. The green-haired youth tried to dodge, but he was too slow. He could only manage to free his right arms just before the doll’s hand came down on him, holding him within its iron grip.

“SMASH!” He roared, this time putting his all as his fist slam down into the hand gripping onto him. The sound of impact was deafening as the force of his punch created a blast of wind throughout the room.

The result was the same as before. Midoriya couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked down at the perfectly undamaged wooden hand. How was this possible?!

“BASTARD!” Bakugou roared, evading the hands trying to snatch him from midair and with a blast of explosions, he shot down like a rocket. He was aware of Midoriya’s predicament. Pretty much everyone was after the boy made a ruckus like that. But Bakugou’s priority at the moment was the save the others first, as they were the ones in danger of being locked away. 

It was fortunate that whatever that disgusting doll was, it was preoccupied with Midoriya. He held out his hands, about to blast those wooden creeps into charcoals when a strong force slammed into him from behind.

“Kacchan!”

“Bakugou!”

Midoriya’s and Todoroki’s shout sounded distant as Bakugou’s eyes spun from the impact. His head felt faint, there was even a weird ringing in his ears as the air was forcefully knocked out of his lungs. When Bakugou looked up, he came face to face with that disturbing doll. Its large hands were holding him so tightly that he couldn’t even budge an inch.

“The fuck?!” Bakugou painfully twisted his neck, managing to get a glimpse behind him to see that Midoriya was still being held by the same doll.

“Two dolls?!” Midoriya was equally as shocked as he stared at an identical doll gripping onto Bakugou.

“Damn it!” Bakugou growled as explosions began to go off from beneath the doll’s hands. At first, Bakugou had assumed with these explosions, even if the doll refused to let go he would still be able to blast its fingers off. It was wood, after all, and wood’s weak against fire. However, as time passed and explosions were repeatedly fired, the doll’s hand was perfectly fine without any hint of damages.

That was when realization dawned on Bakugou.

That this monster was immune to his attacks! No, no just his…perhaps this thing is immune to all of their attacks. But how the fuck was that possible? It didn’t make any sense!

On the ground, Todoroki was captured as well. He had been skidding across the rooms, sending blasts after blasts of ice at the hands coming at him to stop them momentarily. He had already found out how fire does nothing to these wooden hands. As he ran, he also used his ice in an attempt to slow down all the other hands, to buy his classmates some time.

In the end, he too was captured. He froze his left his foot firmly against the floor, stopping the pull of his hands as he let his continuously flow at the hands, doing whatever he could to stop them.

On the sideline watching the ruthless battle, the red-haired girl who was seemingly forgotten by the entire class watched the battle unfold. Instead of looking pleased or happy that she was winning, the girl had a really deep frown on her face. Her brows were furrowed as green eyes scanned over these kids.

A boy had…tapes for arms…

Fire and ice…

Explosions…

Sound…

Enhanced physic…

Aside from the elemental and explosion that are somewhat mediocre, what kind of useless Abilities were the rest of those?! Actually, were those even Abilities? She has never seen anything so pathetic in all of her life, and that was a lot considering how useless her own Ability was.

“…!”

Sensing something approaching her, the red-haired girl speedily jumped to the side, just as she felt something flew right past her, creating light wind brushing against her cheeks. And then…that invisible attack came with a weird sound effect…

“Hiyaaa!”

The girl took half a second to get over her surprise before instantly reacting. With a spin, she thrust her leg out and felt her foot sinking into something that weirdly felt like the flesh of a human.

“Geeeh!” The thing was only able to grunt out this much before wooden hands wrapped around it and immobilized it.

The red-haired girl stared at the wooden hands gripping onto her invisible attacker. The wheels were slowly turning in her head as she noticed a pile of clothes discarded in the corner of the room.

The girl’s turquoise eyes widened as something she neglected to consider hit her.

“Quirk?!”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

“Seriously,” The red-haired girl—whose names was Lucy—slammed down a mug of matcha latte in front of Midoriya. “If you just told me right off the beginning I wouldn’t have to go through all that trouble!”

“S-sorry…” Midoriya muttered meekly. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and took a shy sip.

Lucy crossed her arm, letting out a huff as she looked over the quiet group of kids filling the small pastry shop. All the tables in the shop had to be pushed together just to fit all of them in. There was a dejected atmosphere around them—so much that Lucy didn’t feel like lecturing them anymore.

“Well…I suppose I’m at fault as well, so let’s just called it even.” She sighed before her eyes sharpened and glared daggers towards a particular boy with balls as head huddled in the corner. “Be grateful I didn’t lock that thing with Anne for the rest of the week!”

Ever since getting out, Mineta hadn’t spoken at all. He just curled up in the corner, hugging his knees close to his chest with his eyes practically budging out as he mumbled a string of incoherent words. No one dared to ask the boy just what in the world happened during their short time of separation, so they all just let him be.

"We're very sorry about his behaviour!” Iida—the ever so responsible class president—immediately shot out of the chair and bowed a perfect ninety-degree to the girl. "We’ll be sure to give him a stern talking after!”

“We’re sorry!” Yaoyorozu—the vice-president, followed as well.

With the two representatives setting an example, the rest of the students hurriedly followed—all but Bakugou who was fuming as he stabbed at his pancakes.

“L-Lucy-san!” Midoriya spoke up hesitantly. “About what happened back there…about our Quirks…”

“Ah?” Lucy looked over to the timid boy—who hadn’t looked so timid before when facing Anne. It wasn’t hard for her to understand what he’s asking.

“Don’t worry,” She said flatly. “I don’t make it a habit to blabber. What goes on here isn’t any of my business.”

“Thank you so much!” Uraraka let out a breath of relieve.

“Thank you, gero!”

“Yes! Thank you!”

“Thank you, Lucy-san!”

“Enough with the thanks.” Lucy snapped impatiently. The girl didn’t seem like she was used to having so many people thanking her. She walked behind the counter and began piling different kinds of cookies onto a plate.

“So uh…Lucy-san, is this café yours?” Uraraka asked as she looked around the cute décor of the store.

"No, I just work part-time here," Lucy stated flatly.

"Then is it okay for us to be here?" Hagakure wondered worriedly. After all, the moment Lucy brought them in, she had locked the door and closed all the blinds, making it impossible for anyone to see what’s going on inside the shop.

“The shop was closed for the day anyways.” Lucy set the plate in the middle of the table, earning a round of thanks. “And you’re all paying, so why would I have a problem with it?”

The redhead then went back to the counter, returning with a cup of steaming tea and a large Daifuku, cleanly cut in half to reveal the red bean and the deliciously ripe strawberry inside. She set it in front of Todoroki, taking the boy by surprise.

“I didn’t order this.” He told her.

“It’s on the house.” Lucy gave Todoroki a look before she grabbed a rag and began wiping the counter.

“What?!” Kaminari’s jaw dropped at the unfair treatment. “Is it the face?! Is that it?!”

“Yo! The pretty boy got charms!" Sero teased, though the person being teased had no idea what that meant.

To the corner of the room, Mineta’s mumbling got a tad louder, though no one but Jirou notice as she gave him a weird look.

Bakugou grumbled from the end of the table as he shoved another piece of pancake into his mouth.

The other students may not have seen it, but Todoroki did.

Although the girl’s eyes were seemingly meeting his, the half-fire half-ice Quirk holder felt her gaze lingering on his burnt scar. He almost touched his scar out of reflex but caught himself in time as his hand paused halfway. Changing the direction of his hand, he reached out, gently picking up the wooden fork and stabbing it into the soft Daifuku.

“Thank you.” Although he wasn’t sure what the girl's action meant, she gave him free food, so he must thank her. Lucy just kept on cleaning, showing no acknowledgment that she had heard him.

"Lucy-san," Yaoyorozu called. When Lucy just continued with her work without even lifting her head, the raven-haired girl realized that she was listening and waiting for her to continue. “Your Ability is really amazing. I’m wondering if all Ability users are as strong as yourself?”

“My Ability’s amazing?” That made Lucy paused. With her back turned to them, none of them could see what expression she was making.

“Yeah, it was super awesome!” Kirishima shouted in excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“To make a whole new dimension like that is unreal!” Kirishima added.

“And you can even stop time!” Hagakure added.

“Your dolls were really strong as well! None of us could even damage it and there were two of them! Does that mean you got more of them?!" Midoriya greedily asked, wanting as much information as he could get with stars in his eyes.

The redhead straightened, dropping the rag before she turned around to face them. All of their praises died on their tongue when they saw the deathly stoic look on the girl’s face.

"There's nothing amazing about my Ability." She finally said, turquoise eyes tainted by a mixture of anger, sadness, and jealousy. “I envy you kids. I bet your Quirks are considered top-notched in your world.”

“How can that be?!” Iida looked offended that Lucy was selling herself out so short. "I've never even imagined a power like yours could exist in this world! With a power like that amazing, you could—!”

“Abilities aren’t the same as Quirks!” Lucy cut him off angrily.

Silence filled the room as everyone stared, shocked by her outburst.

“For you to be able to say something like that must mean I’m the first Ability user you’ve come across, huh?”

The students nodded mutely, not daring to speak, fearing it might anger the girl even more. Lucy almost wanted to laugh at how carefully they were behaving. She stared at those naïve and clean gazes—something that doesn’t exist in her world.

This was why she hated those outsiders.

“How did you guys even get to Yokohama?” She finally asked the question that’s been bothering her the entire time. At first, she thought these kids might have secretly snuck into Yokohama, but now that she thought about it, with their weak powers and low brain cells, they wouldn’t even be able to get in let alone survive a second within Yokohama.

"We're here on a field trip," Jirou answered.

“Field trip?” Lucy blinked. That was not what she had expected. 

“We’re from U.A High School. Er…it’s a school for Heroes.” Ojiro explained.

“I know what U.A High School is.” Lucy retorted. She looked around the kids before her eyes landed on a certain explosive boy. “…I thought you looked familiar! Weren’t you that brat that got kidnapped by those Villains?”

“AH?!” Bakugou hollered, the fork in his hand bending from the force he was applying.

The rest of the class tensed up, ready to jump on Bakugou the moment the boy loses control and jumps out to scream in the girl's face. After all, this topic was a sore spot for Bakugou, and for people to constantly bring it up to his face like this…they wouldn't be surprised if Bakugou literally explodes in rage.

To their surprise and relief, Bakugou just gritted his teeth and kept his bottom glued to the chair. His body was body shaking in rage but he just continued to stab his pancakes with his mutilated fork.

“W-we’ll pay for that!” Midoriya hurriedly said to Lucy whose brow had twitched when the boy had ruined the fork.

“Wait, how did you know about that?” Iida gasped once he reacted to what the girl had said. “With Bakugou and…”

“TV of course.” Lucy arched a brow as she pointed to the flat-screen television hung on the wall.

“TV?!” The group shouted.

“So? You’re telling me the Port Mafia let you in because of a field trip?” Lucy asked, having no interest in explaining to these kids how television works.

“Uh…yes.” Uraraka nodded, still trying to get over the fact that there are televisions in Yokohama possibly broadcasting news from the outside world.

Lucy almost wanted to retort and tell them how it’s impossible, but when she saw those honest gazes staring at her, she felt every single hair in her body standing up unpleasantly.

“You’re kidding me.” She muttered.

These kids were serious.

These Quirk holders—Heroes-in-training—came to the city of Ability users—a city filled with criminals—with zero knowledge of what they’re in for?! Are they stupid?! 

“Is something wrong?” Midoriya looked at the girl in concern, feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Is something wrong? Are you idiots?!” Lucy looked at them in disbelief. “You should consider yourselves lucky you’re still alive!”

“W-what do you mean?” Hagakure asked.

“Since you outsiders just arrived, you wouldn’t know, but the underground is a mess right now!”

“By underground do you mean the Port Mafia?” Tokoyami asked.

“Did you really think the only criminal organization in this place is Port Mafia?” Lucy huffed. “Seriously, you guys don’t’ know anything and you still dared to come in here?”

The students couldn’t say anything back to that. They knew coming in here was dangerous, but after everything they saw, they sort of just brushed the danger aside despite knowing that this place was controlled by the Port Mafia.

“There are two worlds in Yokohama.” She stretched out a hand, gesturing to the blinds protecting them from the views of the outside.

“Ordinary people,” She then brought her outstretched hand and gestured to herself. “And Ability users. Ordinary people know the existence of Ability users, but that's it. Unless it’s those who have ties with the underworld, Ability users never interfere with them.”

"What do you mean they don't interfere?" Iida frowned, not understanding what she meant. After all, they lived in the same city, how could they not interact with one another? “Wouldn’t there be Ability users using their powers for evil?”

“There’s no good or evil in battles with Ability users.” Lucy scoffed. “Don’t put us on the same level as those Villains of yours.”

“But evil is evil and good is good.” Asui pointed out. “There’s always a difference, gero.”

“Oh?” Lucy looked down on them like looking at some five years old. “Then what’s evil?”

“Like robbing a bank!” Ashido shouted, eager to bring up the first example. After all, bank robberies were extremely common in their world. It was one of the most frequent crimes. "If you have so many Quirkless—I mean, ordinary people, wouldn’t it be easy to rob a bank?”

“And?” Lucy didn’t look impressed as she put her hands on her hips. “Why would anyone rob a bank?”

"Uh…because they want money," Kirishima replied as if it’s the most obvious thing.

“Why?”

“Get rich of course.” The lightning boy gave the girl a weird look. Why she was asking such obvious things?

“Ability users have no interest in such materialistic things as only getting rich," Lucy replied. “If they do want money, they get it through their own powers, not something as petty as robbing a bank. Do you really think robbing a bank would give you that much money? There’s no Ability user anywhere in the world that would do something so stupid. You brats live in an easy world. You’re all pampered the moment you’re born, that’s why you have Villains going after something so pointless.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened at Lucy’s use of words.

Ability user anywhere in the world—he was certain that was what she had said.

“Lucy-san.” Midoriya didn’t know why it never occurred to him before. Her name and looks were obviously not Japanese. Yokohama has been sealed for centuries—even if there were foreigners at that time, it was unthinkable that there would still be any left after so many years. “Where did you come from?”

That grabbed the rest of the class's attention as they looked at Lucy with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"America," Lucy replied easily, not even going to hide the fact that she was not from Yokohama.

“Wait, you’re American?!” Kirishima gasped.

“There are Old Humans and Ability users in America?!” Uraraka shouted in surprise.

“…Who knows?” Lucy wondered as well. “As far as I know, we’re the last ones in America.”

“Did something happen?” Yaoyorozu was hesitant to ask, fearing she might have asked something improper.

“No, our populations declined, that’s all.” Lucy sighed. “There are still some organizations surviving in other countries with strong Ability users holding the organizations together, but sooner or later they’ll be wiped out through time. Not all of us were able to preserve an entire city like Yokohama, it’s only natural we’ll slowly die out.”

“If population is a problem…why not just live in the open?” Yaoyorozu asked. “I’m sure the governments of any country will be glad to have you!”

"…Are you serious?" Lucy's eyes were dilated as she stared intensely at the ponytailed girl. "Do you even know what you people will do to us when we reveal ourselves in the outside world?!”

Lucy didn’t give Yaoyorozu the chance to respond. She just continued on.

“I’ll tell you what! We’ll be captured, experimented on and those with Ability will be used by your governments as tools!”

“We wouldn’t do that!” Iida immediately argued.

Lucy laughed. “Are you stupid or are you just ignorant of how the world works? You’re all what, sixteen? Are you seriously telling me that you don’t think your government will try to capture an alien species if they suddenly appeared within their arm’s reach?

“Alien?” Ashido looked at Lucy weirdly. “What alien?”

“It’s a metaphor.” Lucy deadpanned. “I’m saying that to your people, we might as well be aliens—although it’s you people who are the aliens.”

“What are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, unable to follow her words at all.

“You kids kept calling us Old Humans. Did you seriously think after so many years, we're still the same species?"

"Lucy-san…could it be that you know how Quirk came to be?" At Uraraka’s question, everyone looked at Lucy with surprise in their eyes. After all, this was humanity's biggest mystery of all time. Through years, there were only speculations, but no scientists have ever confirmed the truth behind the appearance of Quirks.

"It's not some secret," Lucy replied.

“Then can you tell us?!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Yes, we want to know too!” Yaoyorzu nodded frantically. 

It was a virus brought into earth by a meteor," Lucy explained. “A meteor entered the earth’s atmosphere, but it dissolved into pieces from the force so the people at the times didn’t think much about it. In truth, that meteor was carrying a weird type of virus from outer space. When the meteor dissolved, the virus quickly spread throughout the earth’s atmosphere and became the air people breathed. I’m sure you can imagine what happened after breathing in these viruses for five continuous years. In those five years’ time, the virus spread through the body and that was what sparked the first change in humans and caused them to develop mutations.”

The students listened with their jaws hitting the floor. Outer world virus?! That was where Quirk came from?

"Wait, so we've been breathing in these viruses our entire life?!" Kaminari shouted in horror.

"They don't exist anymore," Lucy told him. "The viruses disappeared eighty-six after its appearance—presumably absorbed by your ancestors. The outside air right now isn't much different than in here...save for some pollution issues.”

“So…what happened?” Uraraka couldn’t help but wanted to know. What exactly had happened in the past that separated people like Lucy from the rest of the world?

“You can’t count on the governments to do much," Lucy said mockingly. It was clear she harboured no love for the governments. “The only ones that acted were different Organizations scattered around the world in the underground. Whatever those viruses were, they got no effect on Ability users. Being the only ones still able to maintain order and with Ability users that have immunity, each organization separated themselves from the rest of the world. Some created a literal underground world while others sealed themselves within a barrier like Yokohama.”

“But wouldn’t you still breathe in the air, gero? You said it took five years before the mutation fully started, correct?” Asui asked.

“They developed a vaccine," Lucy replied. "I don't know which country's organization developed it first, but one of them created a vaccine to counter the virus within a year after Quirk began to appear. In early stages, while the virus still hasn't taken root, it was still possible to kill it and revert humans back to normal. For a price, that organization sold the formula to other organizations. That’s why we’re still able to keep our genes clean from the invasion of viruses.”

“Wait, but if those people had the cure, why didn’t they give it to the government?” Iida furrowed his brows in disapproval. “Wouldn’t that save the world from falling apart?”

“Hah?” Lucy looked at the glassed boy as if he was stupid. “Why would they do that?”

“What do you mean why?” Iida whispered. “For the sake of the world, of course!”

Lucy almost laughed at that dumb remark. No, actually, she did laugh. It was a sarcastic laugh as she looked at Iida as if looking at a moron.

“For the sake of the world.” She parroted. “Here’s something to keep in mind while you’re here. Whether it is Ability users of the past or now, we don’t care about the world.”

She leaned close to Iida, towering over him and making him shrink back as maniac rolled off her body.

“Before the appearance of Quirks, Ability users were dangerous and deemed by the public as threats. I just said the underground. Do you think organizations with Ability users were lawful ones? If I was in your world I’d be branded as criminal as well.”

“Did you do something bad, Lucy-san?” Hagakure swallowed hard as she looked at Lucy.

“When we came to Yokohama, we also tried to burn this entire city to the ground," Lucy said so casually that no one would think there was anything wrong with her sentences until the words registered into their brains.

“WHAT?!”

“To be precise, the one who wanted to burn down Yokohama was my old boss.” Lucy clarified. “Well, lots of things happened. Right now I’m just another resident in Yokohama.”

“Y-you tried to murder an entire city?!” Aoyama was hysterical. No one could blame him though, as they were all reeling from shock.

“W-wait! If you’re some sort of terrorist…shouldn’t you be arrested?” Kaminari gapped.

Lucy arched a brow at how the boy called her a terrorist. That was a new one. “I got their citizenship.”

“That’s not what I meant—they gave you citizenship after you tried to burn their city?!”

“That was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t like the plan succeeded. The Port Mafia shut us down before we can get there. So anyways, do you understand now?” Lucy dismissed the panicking kids, not interested in talking about the past.

“After so many years, the virus has merged with your DNA, creating completely new ones different from real humans. It’s only our appearance that looked similar, but we’re already two separate species. We had been since hundreds of years ago after the virus took root. Do you ever wonder why Abilities doesn’t exist in the outside world? Like Quirk that never manifest on Ability users, Ability will never manifest on Quirk holder. It doesn’t matter if they are Quirkless, because Ability only occurs in humans."

The kids fell silent after hearing the end of the story.

 Sure, they were shocked at the origin of Quirks, but they were listening with the mindset of hearing just an old story—a truth that no one in the outside world has discovered yet. The thought of being aliens never occurred to any of them or affected them in any way.

Perhaps it just hadn't fully sunk in yet, as the story sounded too surreal and distant for them to link it to themselves.

“Can we ask…uh…how did the Port Mafia…?” Yaoyorozu began hesitantly. The moment the girl mentioned the Port Mafia, that had become the center of their attention. After all, this was a valuable chance for them to know the enemy.   

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Lucy picked up her rag and began cleaning again. “We were completely crushed, that’s all. As far as I know, only me and three other people survived—the rest were all killed. Though the other girl that was close to my old boss believed he was still alive and went off looking for him.”

To say the kids were more shocked by how she so casually talked about her comrades’ deaths than knowing the origin of Quirk was an understatement. How could she act as if she was just talking about the weather? She didn’t even show the slightest bit of remorse, anger or sadness over their deaths.

“Do you hate the Port Mafia?” Uraraka whispered softly.

“No.” Lucy still had that not-my-problem tone. “It was our loss. That’s how things work in the world. There’s no point in resenting over anything. The loser dies and the winner lives.”

Her attitude and tone sent a chill down all the kids’ backs. How could she say this? What exactly did she go through to make her say something like that as if it was completely natural?

“Besides,” Lucy continued, “it wasn’t like we ever had a chance of winning. From the beginning to end, everything was in the palm of that person’s hand.”

“That person?” Tokoyami spoke for the first in a long time.

"The boss of Port Mafia," Lucy replied.

“Did you meet them? The boss of Port Mafia?” Midoriya wore a serious expression as he stared at Lucy. The shyness he had when he first sat down in the shop was all gone by now.

“Never mind the boss, we never even saw any of his executives.” Lucy snorted as if mocking herself from that time. “Not a single one of them appeared when we invaded Yokohama. He only sent out his successors and their underlings to deal with us. From the very beginning, we were used by the Port Mafia boss to train his successors.”

“Successors?”

The kids looked around one another.

“That’s why I said you guys got here at a bad time.” Lucy turned to them with a solemn look in those turquoise eyes. “The Port Mafia boss announced that he will choose the next boss of Port Mafia by the end of this week. There are two successors. The last to stand will become the next to lead Port Mafia. After that announcement, everyone in Port Mafia started choosing sides. The underground is also a mess right now with various organizations plotting to use this chance to overthrow the Port Mafia. A war is coming.”

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[what-if-i-imagine]

Chapter 2

“As others saw—I could not bring”

-Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe

“Lieutenant, it really is an honor to have your son attending our school, we know how many other schools you most likely considered after all,” my new principal rushed, obviously trying not to show how excited he was.

We were in his office and I was sitting in one of those unbearably uncomfortable plastic chairs, watching as they talked. Only a few students were actually at the school this early, most of which looked as exhausted as I felt.

“The honor is ours Principal Morita,” Rhodey smiled that fake smile that he and my other three guardians had taught me a long time ago. They weren’t the first to teach me it though, my mom was.

I once saw her smile that way to a man who was hitting on her at the playground. He was going on about how awful his life was, and her only response was, “Well bless your heart. I need to be going now, but it was lovely speaking with you.”

That night at home she told me to always pretend to be listening. No matter how much I got annoyed or board, I should at least pretend. If I couldn’t pretend anymore, all I had to do was whip out that southern charm, and say a insult disguised and sugar coated as a compliment. It should always sound harmless and sweet, even when it meant something vulgar.

Pepper was very proud of me when an adult was talking down to me during a business meeting she had to drag me to. I just smiled that fake smile a said “Well ain’t that nice.” The man started yelling at me, saying I was being disrespectful, while the rest of the meeting tried to calm him down because it had seemed like I was being kind. Once he stoped yelling I said “I’m sorry if I offended you sir, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Harley,” Rhodey pulled me out o the memory.

I stood up quickly and shook the principal’s hand, “It’s nice to meet you sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Harley,” he managed a smile, though seemed confused by the accent. I guess not everyone was in loop with tabloids that reported me being from Tennessee. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I actually have a student who will be showing you around the school.”

“Sounds good to me,” I rocked on my heals and looked at Rhodey, suddenly feeling like I was five, going to my first day of kindergarten. “Are you gonna stay?”

“I’m sorry Harley, I can’t,” he hugged me quickly. “Happy is picking you up from school, so just look for his car.”

“Okay,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

Watching him walk away, I got hit by a feeling of anxiety and loneliness. I had never worried this much about him coming home safe. I was always at the compound, watching over a monitor so that I was assured he and Tony were safe, but this time I couldn’t do that. This was also the first time in years I would be apart from my guardians for hours at a time.

It’s weird how the first day of school can be so scary, even at fifteen.

I sat back down and listened to the principal as he explained the rules of the school. We were just waiting for the student’s bus to arrive, so that I could get my schedule and take the tour of the school.

“What last name do you go by?” He asked as if it were a harmless, easy to answer, question. It was far from.

I didn’t want to go by Keener because of my dad, but at the same time, it was my mother and sister’s last names. Stark would draw a lot of attention, as would Potts since both of them are famous. Strange would just earn me another reason to be picked on, plus, Harley Strange sounded... strange.

“Harley Rhodes,” I settled on.

“Is the lieutenant your father?”

“No sir.”

“Your uncle?”

“No sir. He’s one of my guardians.”

He seemed to understand after that point that I didn’t really want to talk about it. I appreciated that.

“Sorry I’m late Mr. Morita,” a boy said, running into the office. “My bus got held up.”

“It’s okay,” the principal sighed. “Mr. Rhodes, this is your partner for today. You share the same schedule, so he can keep you company. Introduce yourself.”

“Flash Thompson,” the boy held out his hand for me. I stood and shook it.

“Harley K- Rhodes,” I introduced myself.

I was about an inch taller than the boy, being 5’7’’, but for some reason it felt like I was smaller than I really was. I got a burst of fear, remembering that this was how EJ used to make me feel.

“Come with me,” he smiled, leading the way out of the stuffy office. “I figured I could show you the library, computer lab, cafeteria and bathrooms right now. I’ll just show you the classes as we go to them if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, following a step behind so I would have enough room to run if I had to.

He showed me each place he said he would, progressively making me put my guard down. He was shockingly nice, but I guess I thought that because I got his humor. He was sarcastic, and I could tell he was using it as a coping mechanism like me. I wondered what it was he was trying to cope with, but didn’t ask.

“Eating outside is better than inside,” he explained. “Never be the kid who spends lunch in the library or gym, that will just get you bullied. Plus, outside you can watch all the nerds make fools of themselves with failed rockets.”

I smiled a bit, hearing buried in his voice that he genuinely liked watching the rockets, “I’ll be sure to do that. Thanks for all this.”

He stopped short, and I almost ran into him. He was looking down, but from what I could see, he looked upset.

“Can I admit something to you?”

I found the question odd, but nodded anyways.

“I didn’t really want to do this, I’m only doing it to get out of detention,” he looked up at me a bit, but looked back down. “I had originally planned to ditch you at the library and let you find your own way around the school.”

“What changed your mind?” My own question caught him off guard. He must have expected me to be mad.

“You turned out to be funny,” he shrugged. “You got my sarcasm and didn’t get all up tight about it. I guess... I started to think maybe you would be a cool friend to have.”

“And you’re telling me this because you don’t like to lie to your friends,” I assumed.

He told me I was right, and I smiled a bit, genuinely this time. I let him continue leading me around the school until the bell rung, feeling like a wall had been kicked down for me. A friend would be really nice right now.

—-

During PE, something changed with Flash.

We had spent the day sitting with each other in classes, talking during passing period. It was really nice to have someone to vent to about the crap show that was my life, and he was obviously relieved to have someone he could just be himself with. But in PE, he wasn’t being himself.

“Hey Penis Parker,” he said to a boy passing by. He was a little taller than me, but only as much as I was taller than Flash. The boy looked annoyed when he half turned to us.

“Hey Flash,” he said like he wasn’t interested.

I looked between my new friend and the boy like I had just gotten hit by a bus. It was such a mood switch when Flash saw this boy that I wasn’t sure what to do.

“Don’t make an ass of yourself this early, Eugene,” a girl standing by the boy said, not looking up from her book.

Flash looked like he had been slapped from the use of his real name, “Whatever Michelle.”

The girl, Michelle, looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him.

A Filipino boy stood with the two, looking just as annoyed. He and the other boy’s body language told me they probably used to be afraid of Flash, but weren’t anymore.

The Filipino boy took notice of me first, “Hey, you know you don’t have to hang out with this guy, right?”

“I want to,” I spoke up, making all of them look at me like I was crazy.

“He means he has to,” Flash rushed to correct me. “The principal said so. I’m his tour guide.”

“I thought I hadn’t seen you around the school,” Michelle noted.

The first boy was looking at me like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from. Recognition flashed across his face when his friend said, “Aren’t you Tony Stark’s secret son?”

“No,” I kept my eyes on the first boy. “I mean, kinda. He’s one of my guardians.”

“Tony Stark is your guardian?” Flash turned to me wide eyed.

I shrunk a bit, “Yeah.”

“Peter works for Mr. Stark,” the Filipino boy said, referring to the boy Flash had called Penis Parker. The pun made since now.

I nodded slowly, not recognizing the boy, though the name Peter Parker was familiar. Tony had mentioned him once or twice now that I really though of it. Happy had also mentioned an incident that happened with the same kid a few months ago, something about a villain they hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard your name,” I admitted, keeping a straight face. “You were the intern that was there when Tony proposed to Pepper, right?”

“I was,” Peter nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, and I feel like I should.”

“Harley,” I said. “Tony and Pepper try to keep me out of public eye for the most part, so don’t feel too bad.”

Peter’s eyes suddenly became pitiful when he heard my name, “Oh... now that I put two and two together, I do recognize that name. Happy once picked me up from my apartment, and Mr. Stark was on the phone with a doctor-“

“Yeah,” I cut him off. “Well, now that that’s sorted out, can my friend and I continue our conversation?”

Michelle eyed me for a moment, then started walking, cueing for the other two to start walking with her.

“What was all that about?” I looked at Flash once they were out of ear shot. “Penis Parker?”

Flash shrunk back and shrugged, keeping his eyes forward, “I used to bully him. Old habits die hard, but I’m trying to get better. He luckily never let what I said get to him.”

“Well, if you wanna keep being friends, that kinda thing can’t be happenings,” I said sternly. I couldn’t risk another EJ being in my life, especially when this guy looked like he was screaming for help.

“It stops now,” he promised quickly. “I won’t ever do it again. Or anything like it. I’ll even apologize.”

“Good.”

And I felt good. Knowing that all it took was a few words, and he would stop. It had been a long time since someone cared that much and wasn’t family.

[speciallymary]

Autoimmune disorders- Alopecia and Underactive Thyroid: Friends/Enemies Since Forever

I'm on the rollercoaster of trying to love myself while Alopecia is in complete control and deciding how fast new bald spots are popping up. I want to tell my story.

When I was in preschool, I started showing signs of thinning hair, but my mom didn't take much notice because I was constantly growing it back relatively quickly. She did notice that parts of my scalp were extra tender, and when messed with enough, caused redness and tiny bits of swelling to occur. She chalked it up to me being rough with my hair and her braiding my hair a little tight (which was never the case in reality).

Kindergarten: I started to complain of always being hot, being so incredibly tired, and quarter size bald spots start popping up. This is when my mom takes notice and starts bringing it up with doctors. Doctors say I may have a slow metabolism, causing my tiredness, I was a little bit bigger than most kids my age (but definitely NOT fat when looking back at my flat stomach and not touching thighs), so I retain heat easier. The doctor said I could be pulling my hair without my mom knowing, and said to come back for my next yearly checkup with concerns if it gets worse.

1st grade: the exhaustion hits me like a truck. I can barely make it through a full day of school without falling asleep in class. As soon as I get home, I sleep until I need to wake up the next morning to go to the babysitter's house. Most of the time, I sleep through dinner and breakfast, leaving only lunch as my actual meal of the day. My teacher, nurse, and mom come together and make a plan, I take a 20 minute nap towards the end of the day if I need it, the class gets more time to do homework in class, and I only am graded on the work I complete, even if I don't actually finish assignments. My dad was still alive at this time, and did not like that I was asleep all the time, but no matter what they did to wake me, it never worked. He then dubbed me his Sleep Beauty. My mom only recently told me that the school started questioning if I was being hurt outside of school, and apparently did involve a caseworker, in which I was interviewed during a play therapy session (which I don't remember) and my mom had medical records sent to show that the doctor knew the symptoms I was having and that they weren't from abuse.

2nd grade: The year my doctor realizes my diagnosis of Alopecia, but knows that something else is going on and refers me to a specialist, refusing to see me as he didn't feel qualified for my case since I was so young. This is when I was diagnosed. I met with a team of specialists from all over my state at a Children's Hospital an hour away from my hometown. They immediately know what it is what they walk in the room, but require blood testing to back up the diagnosis of Underactive Thyroid, which would take a few days after the visit to receive. They then tell me that my Alopecia isn't a stand alone diagnosis, and that I don't have a primary diagnosis with a secondary diagnosis. My alopecia is stand alone, but also entwined with my underactive thyroid. They hoped that the alopecia would only last a year, and that if they got my underactive thyroid under control, that it would help reverse the effects of the alopecia. I got to meet 3 endocrinologists in the state, and fell in love with the one that worked in the hospital that the meeting took place in. We made our first appointment with her, were given a wide variety of pamphlets, and sent on our way. The specialists did make one mistake, though. They thought my alopecia had just popped up, but I had it for at least 2 years at this point, which they would later realize when their theoretical year ended. This was the year that I lost A LOT of hair. I had to cut my long, straight locks to a short bob cut to help my hair look fuller. This was when I started asking questions about my hair dying, what an autoimmune disorder was, and if I would be able to beat it, whatever it was. This was also the first time I got to break a school rule: by wearing hats in school. My mom met with my principal and teacher, and I was allowed to wear a hat in school and would be encouraged to wear one outside during recess and outdoor activities to protect the fragile skin on my head. By the end of the year, I didn't have much hair left, but I had my baseball hats and bandanas, so I was okay. This was also when my class/school was told of my diagnosis with my mom and I's consent, because it was easier to explain it once and know what slightly new expectations there were.

3rd grade: This was the year I started the process of getting on the right medication and medication levels. It was determined that I was not a candidate for the shots in the scalp, which would have been once a month for me, and the only alternative at the time for me was medication. I had never had to take pills before, so my mom had to get creative in crushing pills for my crying self to be able to take them. This was also when I lost all my hair the first time. I felt a little naked sometimes, but I always had a color coordinated bandana or hat at the ready, so it was an easy comfort blanket at the time. My teacher spent a lot of one-on-one time with me, helping me with anxiety, self-esteem, and body perception issues. She also kept me inside when UV rays were high, because even through a light hat, my skin would still burn at times. 2nd and 3rd grade were the years that I learned to write out feelings through assignments for the first time, any way I could.

4th grade was a big year, in a good and very bad way. I gained about half my hair back, then lost my father in March of that school year. I almost instantly lost all of my hair from the stress and grief, but my teacher, class, and school were so incredibly supportive. I missed a week and a day of school, for the passing, viewing, and funeral of my dad. My teacher was also my first male teacher, and helped me learn to express myself to people other than women and feel comfortable doing it. He instantly became a pseudo-uncle for me, and helped me through the few bouts of grief that I experienced in his room. This was also the year we went on a camping trip to conduct science projects. An anonymous donor funded my trip, and all of the supplies I needed for the trip, as no one wanted me to miss out on the BIG school field trip because of the passing of my dad. I got to learn what family meant in every sense, and knew I was in a supportive community. This was also when my friends started answering what my diagnosis was for me whenever someone asked. It was uncomfy for me to say the same thing over and over whenever someone new met me at school, so my friends took over, and whole classes talked about what it was so that they didn't have to ask me, which I greatly appreciated.

5th grade was rough for me emotionally, and to be honest, I don't remember much past my emotional breakdowns, frequent visits to the counseling office, and regularly getting sick from medication changes that required me to miss a lot of school. A lot of good things happened that year, and my teacher (another male), was super supportive, and was okay with me randomly crying in class, or darting out to cry in a stall for a few minutes before returning to class with freshly dabbed eyes. He owned a floral and decoration shop downtown at the time, and ended up getting a stuffed animal from his store that I particularly loved and having everyone sign a card from the store to give to me during Feb/March in the school year, the first anniversary of my dad's death, which was one of the hardest. This was also the year that I became a library ambassador, so I got to spend lunch/recess in the library reading to kindergarten kids and helping them learn to love reading as much as me! (Tbh, I honestly don't remember how much hair I had that year, but I know I did have some growth, but lost it at least once during the school year). This was also when my endocrinologist realized I was not going to outgrow the Alopecia, and changed her perspective on my diagnosis. I was moved from a mild-moderate diagnosis to moderate-severe, which I have stayed ever since.

6th grade: I lost my hair yet again, but also became eligible for my first wig. This was also the first year that new kids arrived in my grade and didn't know what I had or what it was about, but everyone in my grade and below knew, but wanted me to be the ones to tell them. We actually gained the new classmate(s) the first week I had my new wig, and my teacher had to miss that week, so they couldn't help with making those connections as well. This was also the first time I lost friends because of my hair loss, as when I told these new people, they were shocked, but processed it and continued to be friends with me for a while before telling me that they didn't want to be around me anymore because I was bald and "had holes in my head." Most of my class didn't support them in these actions, but continued to be friends with them because of other connections and similarities. This was also when I had anxiety of going to middle school and having to explain my hair situation all over again and being judged. My teacher had a lot of conversations with me about this worry, and it was noted in my records so that I had "proper supports" in middle school.

7th grade: the year from hell. I was bullied from the few friends I had from elementary school, as I went to the other middle school than most of my elementary school friends. I had a plan ready, but knew that I would do it at school if I did it, because my mom had just gotten comfortable in living at home without dad for the first time that year. My exhaustion got worse, I lost a lot of my hair growth from the summer, and my symptoms were all over the place no matter the medication changes due to the amount of stress and anxiety I was under going to and attending school. Classes and the library were my escape, as those bullies were not in the honors classes that I was, and were mostly too loud for the library in the morning and during lunch. I had break downs every morning going into school, and my mom would have to drag me into the wrong door of the building to meet the principal and nurse at the doors, then have me wait with staff until the counselor came in to talk with me about what was going on. No one believed me that I was being bullied, and all thought I was grieving my dad's passing, but the librarian offered me a position in opening and closing the library every day with her and joining her during lunch hour after I finished my lunch. This is what saved me, and this kick started my hair growing back, and my stress levels dropping, which helped with my underactive thyroid.

8th grade: I had a whole new group of friends through the connections the librarian made naturally with me, and I was so happy and supported. A lot of personal stuff also happened in middle school, so this helped tremendously in me living a better life as a fully functional student with natural supports built in. My teachers were aware of my diagnosis and my loss at this point, and whenever I struggled, would encourage me to write out my feelings, walk me to the counselor personally, or have me complete assignments in the library with my now pseudo-aunt, the librarian. I also gained most of my hair back, and for the first time, it was shirley temple curly! Everyone was astounded, and the endocrinologist was excited at how much growth I had in one year's time, as no one in the midwest had seen that in cases similar to mine.

High school: my hair came and went a few times more, but I never hid anything except maybe wear a hat outside during marching band. I had a completely new set of friends because of band, and fell in love with the peer tutoring program in the special education department, so I had support in all forms. I did have some bad autoimmune flareups in which I got very, very sick very, very quickly. But living with a chronic illness, I was sick most of the time and wouldn't say anything about it because it was/is my normal. So the nurse knew that if I went to her office, something was really wrong, and most of the time ended up with me leaving school immedoately for a hospital or emergency doctor's visit. I wore my hair all natural from my memory, and I only grew my hair all of high school, except for one cut (which was one bigger trim of about 6 inches taken off in total). My senior year, I did have a little more thinning in my hair overall, and was afraid I'd lose it all at the end of high school, but my hair never had the straw-like consistency that it did in my younger years whenever I lost all my hair.

Freshman year: I grew it out more, to almost my butt, when I chopped it off to about collar bone length during spring break. That was so freeing to feel like I could do things with my hair again.

Sophomore year: I had my hair cut again right before I moved back to school for band, and the hairstylist was one I had never been to before but at the same studio I went to, and cut it to my ears. For a while, I was worried that it was too short. Everyone told me it would grow out, but I'm not guaranteed the time for it to do that, and explained that to people. The time I had in high school and the start of college was a gift, but the doctors always tell me that if I lose my hair, there is no guarantee I will get it back at all. Looking back at my band pictures, I was cute as hell, and didn't have to put my hair up under my shako, just pin back the front part of my hair to keep it out of my face.

Junior year to now: oh boy, I noticed spots popping up that I hadn't had in a really long time. I was always used to having at least 2 small spots now, but the spots started popping up all over, have joined into bigger spots, and now I currently have about half my hair with about 9 spots taking my hair away at different rates. It'll grow rapidly in some areas then randomly slow down. I am actually getting married next year, and I want my hair so I can have a fun hairdo, but I'm preparing for being patchy, in which I have agreements with people I trust that if it gets to a point in which I can't cover everything anymore, I'll shave it and do alternative gemstones on my head in place of a veil and hairdo for the wedding. I did all natural in childhood, and looking back at the pictures, I don't have the confidence to do long patches of hair again. I'm trying to accept the loss of hair again, but also love myself in my current state, as I may never be in this spot ever again in my hair journey.

I have been completely baby-butt bald, peach fuzz bald, patchy halos bald, full head of hair with minimal spots, and a fullish head of hair with major spots. My hair has been perfectly pin straight, wavy, curly as heck, and for the past several years, an exact 50/50 of either wavy and curly or straight and curly. The split is literally one half is on texture, and the other half is a different texture.

My doctors have told me I would never get my eyelashes or eyebrows back again, and that's mostly true. I have very faint eyebrows that are very thin that may or may not randomly grow in more full/darken in color, and I actually prefer no eyebrows for myself, as I actually raise my eyebrows in all pictures as a natural response to open my eyes more, and I don't look as crazy compared to penciled in eyebrows doing the same reaction in a picture.

I have never had and mostly never will have hair on my armpits, and I constantly surprise myself in how much hair some people have on their armpits, but support all the armhairs or lack their of!

I only recently learned how to shave my legs, because up until then, I would mostly lose my leg hair in the summers due to more exposure to elements and gain more of it back in the winters.

I have "thyroid syndrome of the eyes" in which my underactive thyroid affects my eyesight in not only blurriness, but also double vision and other visual impairments that have just recently finally started to be corrected with added prisms in all directions to my glasses that I had to first start wearing in 7th grade when I suddenly couldnt see much at all.

I get migraines and headaches easily, mainly because of the part of the brain that works with the thyroid and when my medicine is off, it affects that part of my head. I also have been way more light, sound, and motion sensitive in the past couple of years, but much more compounded in the last year.

But it is who I am, and whenever anyone asks me if I ever want to take my autoimmune disorders away, I confidently say no. Why? Because it makes me who I am today. I matured and still mature within myself which helps me accept others' differences as well. I connect with the individuals I work with in the special needs community that my coworkers, peers, and typical individuals cannot. I'm upfront with those I interact with about my disorders once we have an established connection and I feel safe telling them the information.

Yes, I do have problems with anxiety, trust, self-esteem, and body impressions of myself. But my alopecia and underactive thyroid know when to kick me in the pants a little bit to get me to realize different life lessons. It's made my heart so much bigger because of my struggles that I've gone through, am going through, and will go through.

I've been on the same medication since 3rd grade, with varying levels of prescription. But my tolerance is high, yet I can't change prescriptions due to me having horrific reactions to the other medications. There will most likely come a day in which my thyroid will stop working and I will have to have surgety to remove it and be on hormonal medication the rest of my life, but I'm always going to be on some sort of hormonal medication for the rest of my life anyway.

Also, I've struggled with getting the help I needed medically with anxiety and depression and being on a hormonal medication. My doctors wouldn't put me on any depression or anxiety medicine until I started college because they didn't want to effect my thyroid medication. So I have been in and out of counseling almost all of my life, and most likely will continue throughout my life when I need it. Now, I have the help I need with supportive and safe network, a counseling program, and the medicine I need to be my best. I also have connections to social workers and other specialists that can make immediate arrangements if my needs are not met ever again.

This isn't even my full story, but the thread of consciousness that I wanted to share right now about my autoimmune disorders. Thanks for reading all of it!

[andaleduardo]

Candy Corn Operation

Here’s my entry for @itfandomprompts ‘s promt:  Fall / Halloween I went with a little bit of both Thank you for reading! Opinions are welcomed :) Read on AO3

When Richie’s parents transferred him into a boarding school, he thought the world was about to end.

One of the worst parts, besides the whole thing, was the fact that school only allowed students to go home on the weekends. This meant many things: not having to deal with his parents so much, not seeing his friends most of the time, no studying in the weekends (because they were meant for Losers’ quality time),

and it meant that Richie’s mental stability was running low.

Most of his afternoons were spent in the crowded dorms, or the crowded library, with his only true company being his crowded mind, as per say. He was floating in anxiousness and self-consciousness.

Just three months ago, in Derry’s high school, Richie realised, although now he knows it wasn’t true, that he was finally allowing himself to feel okay in school ground. There was no one, no bully, no student, no teacher or school worker that made him feel the way he did when he was younger. Judged, watched, like anyone who laid eyes on him was looking in disappointment or pity.

Right then? He thought it was all over, there was no bully that made him afraid or itchy. There was no student who he thought was making fun of him just by passing through them on the hallways, maybe because of his odd clothes, or odd glasses, or odd face, for fuck’s sake. There was no teacher who had the power over him to leave Richie feeling like he failed yet another grown up who put faith on his future.

Right then, with the Losers by his side, Richie was finally letting go of a heavy ton of weight from his head and chest. Where it usually hurts.

But look what it took. It took a very nice day to get home and have both your parents waiting for you for the first time since the year started, perhaps, only for them to tell you they were tired of having a nuisance to take care of and deciding that it was better if you just went somewhere else.

Well, they didn’t say that, but Richie knows that’s what they truly think. But it’s fine, it’s not like he cares.

Only that he does, and a lot. Because right now nothing’s the same.

He walks the corridors with his head down, even if there’s no chance that someone will make fun of him for his clothes this time, because everyone wears the school uniform. He stays quiet in classes and hasn’t said a joke ever since he arrived. Because there’s nothing funny about this, and there’s no one to laugh with him.

“Having any good chucks lately?” That’s what he used to say all the time. If he had to answer himself right now…

No, no chucks at all.

He did make ‘friends’ with a couple other students. Brother and sister, perfect for him to hang around without thinking he was third wheeling. But he still decided to be by himself most of the time, just so that they don’t get sick of him too quickly. Like his parents did.

But life goes on, and Richie has grown to learn some things. Things such as the doorman’s shifts, or the suspicious places where there are holes in the fences of the school perimeter. He’s learnt his way to sneak out when he has a schedule gap, and that’s how he’s by the Derry’s high school gate two times a week, waiting for the lunch break to come so that he can see the most important people in his life. He doesn’t even bother with the stupid uniform anymore, Stan will probably tease him forever for the high socks with formal shorts that make him look like a boy’s scout. But all of that is welcomed, he just needs to hear their voices and he will instantly be okay.

Richie’s the one who does the visiting because it’s the logical thing to do. He is only one, they are six. Besides, he’s good at sneaking out of a building that rules against it, and the others wouldn’t even be able to step foot into the school surface without having a bunch of dweebs calling them out to their principal or something.

Today, however, Richie feels even worse.

Today is Halloween, and he is trapped in this dumper of a school. There is no way of getting out today, otherwise he’ll get in trouble for skipping classes and he doesn’t need a reason to be caught up in detention for the weekend. So, he patiently goes through his morning lessons while wishing he could be anywhere but here, really.

When lunch comes around, he leaves the classroom along with 27 other students and drags his feet through the hallways while feeling his stomach’s protests of hunger.

There was a rumour floating around students that the canteen serves holiday themed desserts. So maybe he’ll have some kind of pumpkin flavoured pudding today. Is that even a th- His attention is caught in the middle of crowd. He snaps his head back to that same exact place, searching every single face but finding no one in particular.

There’s a feeling of uncertainty that keeps him company, but Richie partly lets it go and resumes his way to the canteen.

When the line for lunch allows him to, he tries to take a look at the dessert station and sees none other than cookies. Carved pumpkin cookies, ghost cookies, ones that resemble witches’ hats too. And well, he’s certainly not complaining when he shoves four of them into his pocket.

The woman behind the enormous food trays gives him an odd look, but fortunately, Richie is good at making sweet ladies like him.

The thought of Eddie’s mom comes to his mind and he has an urge to laugh, but pushes it down into nothing. Instead, he gives the woman, Julie, a quick smile and an innocent shoulder shrug. Amused, she smiles back and fills his plate of pea rice and chicken a little bit more.

If the others were here, he would have no problems in announcing, with a loud voice, that he would marry this woman someday.

He retreats to his seat that to this day he hopes wasn’t someone else’s and tries to eat as fast as he can. Richie does it so that he can enjoy the school ground without a catastrophic number of students there.

He finishes his food with an hour of lunch to spare, so he makes his way outside while munching on the cookies. The icing is dry ans they’re pretty average, so he assumes they’re store bought.

While walking along the corridors and tapping a hand to the lockered walls, Richie is struck by the same target that caughts his attention. Looking ahead, he sees a smaller figure rounding the end of the hallway, same uniform as his. The back of his head seems way too familiar after years of watching one boy carefully whenever he can.

His heart starts thumping faster as Richie watches the body disappear around the corner. Immediately acting, Richie strides down the almost empty hallway.

For a moment, the neiboult house and the sickly Eddie come to his mind, the one that lured him into that awful room. The one that’s probably luring him right now, maybe somewhere where no one could witness a death.

All Richie can hear is his own heartbeat as he finally curves the last row of lockers. He’s about to start running when suddenly there’s a body colliding with his with enough strenght to send him flying backwards. He grasps the other person’s shoulders just in time to prevent both of them from falling.

“What the actual fuck?” That's what he says.

“Where the hell were you?” That's what the other person asks.

In front of him, wearing the same uniform, is Eddie. The clothes look loose on him. But that is not something he should be worried about right now.

But he’s Richie, so…

“You’re wearing uniform.”

Eddie’s apprehensive face turns into a blank one.

“You do realise that I’m not even supposed to be here, and all you notice is that I’m wearing these stupid clothes?”

Richie looks at him funny, and for a moment, Eddie is afraid that he might have said something he shouldn’t. “I’m- I didn’t mean… to offend you, I-” In a moment of despair, he grips the front part of his hair and exhales soundly, shutting his eyes close in the process. “Today is being so fucking wicked- Look, the clothes are okay, but can we please get out of here?”

In a matter of seconds, Eddie grabs Richie by the forearm and starts guiding him through the school, not even giving him a chance to answer.

Richie, being himself, stares at the way Eddie’s ass moves underneath the beige pants. Yes, pants, that’s the ‘cold-weather-option’. Other than that, he allows himself to be dragged to the nearest exit.

Today is being fucking wicked, alright.

Not only when Eddie starts talking in a spiral of energy and worry, Richie realises he must have said it out loud.

“We called it Spooky Mode Undercover. I told them it was awful, I mean who even thinks it’s acceptable to give such a big name to a secret mission where we’re supposed to be abducting you from this hell hole? My first suggestion, which I still think is way better, was Candy Corn Operation. You know what they told me? I’ll tell you! We’re too old for candy corn! Who the fuck is too old for candy corn?! No wonder we’re called Losers-

“Candy corn operation? That’s the same length as Spooky Mode Undercover, Eds.” They made it past one of the back doors, the cold October air hitting their exposed skin.

Eddie stopped in his tracks and stared off ahead of him, the door closed behind them with a loud noise.  “Well, damn it.”

And just like that, he sprinted off to their right, resuming his story. “Today’s Halloween-

“The hole in the fence was the other way-” He was cut off from speaking when Eddie turned around, almost colliding with Richie, and started walking, as purposefully as before, in the opposite direction.

“So, today’s Halloween and we wanted to spend it with you. I told them that this was a bad idea and that we couldn’t be missing classes, neither can you. But now I’m here, because everyone said they had a great plan and all. I was the plan! They made me go through the stupid hole with Bev and she dragged me to the locker rooms on your gym! Gym, Richie! I thought it would smell less like a dumper since this is a private school, where the hell did I get this idea from, anyway? Well, it stinks just as much and if that wasn’t all, she locked us both in there and made me steal someone’s clothes. Someone else’s clothes! Do you have any idea how much I’m suffering right now? No, of course you don’t, cause you probably love this plan as much as the others!”

 Richie was speechless, and that was saying much. The cookies in his left pocket came to his mind and, using his free hand, he took one out and put it in front of Eddie’s face while they got closer and closer to the hidden exit. “Cookie?”

Eddie eyed it, slightly out of breath and cross eyed from staring so close. “Sure, thanks.”

They were fast approaching their destination, the other Losers already visible from where they’re standing, when Eddie seems to realise something and proceeds to talk with a mouthful, spilling crumbs everywhere. “Wait! I can’t leave with some other guy’s clothes!”

“I’m sure that this guy, whoever he was, is already filling out an assault report with the principal. You really shouldn’t go back to kindly return it, Spaghetti.”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t stay in this filthy thing a second more!”

“We’ll gladly watch you strip, then.” Eddie was surprised that it wasn’t Richie who said it, but Bev, who was on the other side along with the four remaining boys.

Richie’s heart instantly flooded with affection for the group in front of him. Therapy? No, he doesn’t need that. He needs home, and that’s exactly what all of them are to Richie. He watched as Eddie crawled through the gap while blaming everyone for making him go through the school halls alone.

Dazed and happier, he stood there like an idiot, fence between them.

“Richie, baby, you’re drooling.” He snapped his neck to look at Beverly, who as smugly smirking at him.

Stan, who had enough of these reencounter feelings, cut Eddie off in the middle of his bickering.  

“This is very emotional and all, but think of how better it would be if we were in Bill’s living room and not hiding in the middle of bushes waiting for someone to see you sneaking out.”

Bill laughed. “Ye-yeah, that s-sounds nicer.”

When Richie stepped to the other side, Ben hugged him in a crushing force, Mike put an arm over his shoulder and Bev kissed his cheek. Bill said “We’ve missed you.” with a tender smile while Stan replied “Speak for yourself.” But then he offered a smug smirk, and Richie knew it was the best kind of affection he could get from Stan. So he takes it, grateful.

There are some tears threatening to fall at any given moment. They had come for him.

They came to him.

And for the first time in a while, Richie wanted to smile.

 -

 “So… we’re too old for trick or treating, but we’re not too old for this?” Richie was standing in the middle of Bill’s backyard, where seven medium sized pumpkins were laying on the grass.

“Pumpkin carving is great! What’s your point?” Mike asks while already sitting down on the cold ground.

“We’re not puh-pumpkin carving.” Bill states as he exits through the door that connects the kitchen to the backyard.

“We’re not?” Both Richie and Eddie, who already took his time to change into normal clothes, ask in unison.

Bill grins smugly and keeps silent. All of them stare, confused, at him as if waiting for an explanation. The silence was broken when a loud gasp was heard through the backyard. All heads snapped to the sound, only to find Ben covered in pumpkin seeds and guts.

Mike rolled on his side to laugh freely. He had successfully carved an opening in his pumpkin, taking out some of its insides to hit an unfortunate target with them.

“Pumpkin fight!” Bev screamed amused. Her words had an impact on the boys. All of a sudden, everyone was stumbling to get their own pumpkin and messily carve them open. Richie and Stan aimed for the same one, which resulted in a shoulder to shoulder fight until Stan was pushed to the ground and Richie ran away with the orange fruit and a carving utensil.

“Don’t run with knives on your hand, Richie! For fucks’ sake!” Richie ignored Eddie’s commands until he was behind a bush, protected from being hit for the moment.

Meanwhile, Mike had scooped out every pumpkin’s bits off of Ben’s hair so he could keep it for future victims.

Needless to say, thing got messy pretty quickly, plus slippery. Their ammo was pretty low, so besides hitting others with the slimy substance, they also had to pick it up from each other’s clothes, shoes, hairs and the ground itself. Turns out wearing glasses wasn’t really helpful. Richie ended up half blind either way, for he had to remove them near the beginning after Stan took revenge on him for getting pushed. How Stan was actually playing along with getting dirty was still a mystery to him, and probably everyone else, but he wasn’t complaining when he got to watch Bev jump at him towards the ground. Both had ended up spitting out seeds.

 -

 So, keeping the fight for first plan wasn’t the smartest idea. That’s what all of they realise while laying in the ground, exhausted of running around. Their clothes are stained and humid, their hairs… a mess.

“Bill, buddy, I don’t see other option besides you lending us some clothes.” Mike states, slightly out of breath.

With a heavy sigh, Bill gets up to his feet and starts walking towards the kitchen door. “E-Eddie, you t-take Georgie’s, right?”

Richie gave away a light-hearted laugh while Bill was hit in the back of the head for the last time.

 A few ruined towels later and 7 cups of hot chocolate warming cold hands, they found themselves on Bill’s attic.

“My muh-mom will kill me when she ss-sees the laundry basket.”

With a groan, Richie draped a hand over his face. “Wait until I have to go back to that prison, I’ll be in detention for two weekends in a row.”

“And when my mom finds out I skipped school. Oh god…” Eddie spoke this time, worry in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all screwed. But we’re all together right now, and we need to enjoy that and worry later.”

“Bev’s right…” Ben murmured after a small silence. Richie chuckled to himself, because, honestly, when isn’t Bev right?

They stayed quiet after this, each of them submerged in their own conflicted thoughts. Bill was still standing up, his previous task to set up the old TV his parents keep up here in the attic was forgotten momentarily. The others were dispersed between a pull-out couch that was able to fit 3 (though sometimes they all squeezed to sit on it), a smaller armchair, where Mike and Stan were squished together, and two bean bag chairs that Richie claimed for Eddie and him.

To break the saddening mood that was taking over them, Bill put the steamy cup down on the floor near his feet and clapped his hand together loudly. “Well, a-any movie suggestions?”

While a discussion took place, Richie stood quiet. After all, he had been quieter than usual ever since the change of schools, but right now the reasons were others. He didn’t want this day to end, didn’t want to go back and have to deal with reality. This, too, was real, but it was a smaller part of his life, while school became a bigger one that took away his will to laugh. Here, among family, Richie decided to tune out their arguments over which movie was best and, instead, soak in the feeling of being wanted. Being part of something.

That’s kind of the point, right? To belong somewhere.

He still remembers when, back in the end of middle school, the Losers decided to use the space of the Denbrough’s attic to create this tiny corner. The environment was cosy, filled with infinite memories of all the afternoons and nights spent in here.

Rainy day? Movie marathon. School break? Movie marathon. Literally any time they don’t know what to do? Movies.

And it was mostly here that they settled to watch them.

The TV belonged to Bill’s parents, it was old, but still functional. It was on top of a small chest of drawers that Stan’s parents were planning on throwing away, the boy quickly gave it a new life by bringing it here. It’s where they keep all the movies the group collectively brought. The couch was Bill’s too. It served as a guest bed from time to time, but Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough have long ended the family invitations, so it provided better use to the kids anyway.

As for the armchair, it was owned by Mike’s grandma. It was stored away in the barn of Mike’s farm, along with many other old belongings, such as the vinyl player and the lamps they also picked up for the space. The lightbulbs were bought with everyone’s shared allowances, and the bean bags were brought in from both Bev and Ben’s houses.

The couch was diagonally situated to the tv, near it were the beanbags, standing in the middle, and on the other side was the armchair.

It wasn’t perfect, but fuck it if they didn’t think so.

 A Nightmare on Elm Street had been playing for 23 minutes, said the timer on the screen. All of them were munching on candies that Bill got his parents to buy so he could give them to trick or treaters. But he took all of them upstarts, already having ignored the four times that someone rang the bell to ask for them.

Richie’s hot chocolate had been finished by the time Bill pressed play, the mug forgotten on the floor beside his seat. On the other hand, Eddie’s cup was still mostly full, and his eyes on the screen seemed a bit lost. Something is wrong. That’s one of the things Richie’s good at figuring out. How to act upon it… not so good.

“Hey, there’s some… stuff, here…” Carefully, he reached out a hand to Eddie’s head. The other boy leans away slightly, expecting Richie to mess up his hair. Instead, he picks up a little pumpkin string and shoves it closely to Eddie’s face. “Wanna have a lil seasoning with ya hot chocolate, Suhr?”

Eddie fully leans his head away while rolling his eyes. With the hand that’s not holding the mug, he swats Richie’s wrist away and murmurs, as not to bother the rest of his friends watching the movie. “Don’t do that, Rich.”

There’s a million Richie-ways he could have answered that, instead, since he wasn’t being himself a lot anyway, he admitted: “Just trynna cheer you up, Eds.”

Undoubtfully, Eddie was taken aback by the sincerity of it. At a loss of words from his part, Richie kept talking.

“What’s going on that head of yours?” His words were mere whispers, even though his friends were most likely hearing their conversation anyway.

Eddie shrugged in response, turned his head to face the screen again. The bell downstairs rang once again. Everyone ignored it.

“It’s just…” He struggled to find words, eyes never leaving the screen. The movie had been playing for 25 minutes. “I don’t like it…” He stated simply.

Now, Richie liked to believe he was at least smart, but not even Ben would know what the fuck Eddie’s talking about.

“Change, that is.” Eddie added finally.

Oh.

And Richie understood. How couldn’t he?

Eddie didn’t like change. Didn’t like the fact that the Losers were missing a voice most days, or that their classes had another vague chair. Their study meets consisted of more studying than joking around, and their lunch table had less sugar in it. Eddie didn’t like that, in the morning, he had to say five greetings instead of six, and that he received one minus greeting in return. He didn’t like it that there were less reasons to laugh about, and that he had more glass cleaning spray in his fannypack, because now it wasn’t needed. He didn’t like that his classes got quieter, and that gym was less fun. Or that his mother smiled more at the dinner table and that he had no one waiting for him in the front of his house in the morning.

Richie didn’t like it, either.

“I know.” That’s what he said, and Eddie shot him a small smile in return. “C’mhere.” Richie stage-whispered while making grabby hands at Eddie, who was suddenly apprehensive at whatever idiocy was about to happen.

Richie turned sideways in his seat and fisted his hands in Eddie’s bean bag, tugging it towards him in a swift motion. Eddie shrieked when his seat was almost taken away from underneath his body and the sudden movement was enough to make him spill hot chocolate, now warm, all over himself. And the floor.

“Fuck! Richie!”

“Oh god! I’m so fucking sorry, Eds!” He managed to squeak out, but immediately after he cracked up in laughs. Everyone was already looking at the mess and blaming him for being careless, so whatever.

“Are you ff-for real, Rich?” Bill got up with a frown. “I a-almost don’t have any clothes l-left!”  But there was not enough air in Richie’s lungs for him to answer, so he tossed his head back in the bean bag, hitting it on the floor with a loud thud.

“Motherfucker, this fucking floor. Shit.” His laughs died down abruptly, hands gripping his head until his knuckles turned white.

Well, Richie’s laughs died down, but everyone else suddenly found it way too funny, besides Eddie, who was still pissed off and trying to restrain his needs to pour the rest of his beverage over Richie’s lap.

Saturated of the whole laundry issue, Bill turned to Eddie with a pointed finger. “You’re getting G-Georgie’s clothes, d-don’t care!”

Snapping out of his trance, Eddie shot up to his feet and started following Bill’s steps towards the staircase.

“Bill, don’t you fucking dare put me in twelve years old’ pyjamas!”

In the middle of his friends’ chuckles, Richie sat there, still grasping his head dramatically. He exhaled loudly.

At least some things never change.

 Please Read: I don’t have a perma taglist, so I’m going to tag my Rooftop tags and ask you if you want to start being tagged for all my works. If you answer me, thank you!

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[ladylynse]

Revealed: This time, Randy doesn’t know how he can keep his secret. This time, he’s unmasked in front of everyone. (FFnet | AO3)

A continuation of this three sentence fic for @briethebee927‘s birthday. Happy birthday!

Randy struggled, even though he knew he was pinned to the tree, that his suit wouldn’t easily tear free from the knives thrown at him by Viceroy’s newest robot. He tried to focus on the Art of Disguise, but his head was still spinning from the last hit he’d taken, and he couldn’t even focus his eyes well enough to pick Howard out of the crowd, let alone do the required Ninja-ing to get out of this.

He barely felt the mask being yanked off his face, let alone the swirl of furling cloth as his suit vanished and he dropped like a stone, but he could hear people’s shouts, hear McFist’s victorious cries from where he thought he was hidden, and Randy knew it was over.

Heidi had already begun Me-Casting, her voice rising above the others—or maybe the others hushed. He wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that his mask was gone and the robot had stopped before spearing him, and he wasn’t going to complain about that last part.

McFist might’ve revealed him, but he couldn’t kill him here, not in front of everyone. He could try, blaming the robot, but someone would find a way to connect it back to him. Viceroy was good, but he couldn’t cover all of McFist’s tracks. If the Ninja—the former Ninja—was murdered by a robot in front of the entire school, some nerd would figure out who was behind it all.

So he might not have the mask, he might not have his secret identity, but he did have time. At least a little. If he could hear McFist celebrating, he wasn’t talking to the Sorcerer, not yet. Which meant people weren’t going to be stanked immediately, even with the general unease of the Ninja being defeated, which meant there was hope.

Didn’t it?

He tried to focus on Heidi’s voice, tried to hear the whispers beyond it. Too much sounded muffled, like he was listening to it from underwater, but Heidi’s tone sounded confused. Despite Howard’s announcement that one time that he knew the identity of the Ninja, she’d never really considered that her brother’s best friend might actually be the Ninja.

And if she was confused, maybe that meant people weren’t entirely convinced.

Maybe there was actually a way to turn this around.

Randy didn’t realize that anyone was trying to talk to him until Debbie’s face was suddenly there, blocking out the view of the robot. She hauled him to his feet when his only response to what were probably questions was a blank stare and steered him into the crowd, which parted before them. There was a general buzzing that grew louder, but nothing he could make out.

A few excited shouts from Julian and Bucky did pierce his haze, though, and as Debbie stopped, he managed to find the source of the fuss. It was the Ninja, another Ninja, which meant it was Howard, but he was just in a ski mask and a scarf, the same old costume as before, nothing that would fool them after they’d seen the real thing—

Debbie was pulling him away.

He let her.

He didn’t know how to get the mask back yet, and until he had the mask, until he had the suit….

“Focus,” Debbie’s voice hissed in his ear. She pushed him down, and his legs collapsed obediently beside what he now realized were the ruins of Principal Slimovitz’s car. “Tell it to me straight for once, Cunningham. Are you actually the Ninja?”

“Do I look like the Ninja?” he asked. He tried to smile. He wasn’t sure he managed it. Debbie growled at him either way.

“This is serious. McFist is after you, you know. Even if you aren’t the Ninja, he’ll think you are after this, and that’s got to be his robot. I don’t know why he wants the Ninja mask—”

“He doesn’t want the mask,” Randy said. “He wants the Ninja destroyed. So he can free the Sorcerer.”

“What?”

“The Sorcerer. He’s trapped. That’s why he keeps stanking people. So he can get free.” The Nomicon wouldn’t approve of him telling people, least of all Debbie, but Howard’s ruse wasn’t going to last long and Debbie apparently already knew about McFist. She was the only option he had. It’s not like the swordsmith was going to get him out of this one, and the guy who’d given him the suit in the first place was nowhere to be seen.

Not that Randy was entirely sure he’d have noticed either of them if they had been in the crowd.

“He’s the reason people turn into monsters,” added Randy when he saw Debbie’s blank look.

She swallowed. “There’s a Sorcerer. And McFist wants to free him. And the Ninja—you—have to stop that.” Nodding would hurt, but before Randy could give any sort of verbal confirmation, Debbie had started again. “But now there’s no Ninja, no real Ninja, which means the Sorcerer can get out and…and transform everyone? Into monsters? And destroy Norrisville?”

She was breathing faster than before, and Randy reached out to put a hand on her arm. He accidentally swatted her in the process, but she didn’t seem to notice—which meant she was pretty far gone. “Calm down,” he said in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Instead of sounding like he wanted it to—calm, commanding, in control—his voice cracked. “Panic won’t help. He feeds off chaos.” It was getting easier to think now. “Howard’s trying to confuse McFist. It’s worked before. We just need to get the mask back.”

Debbie stared at him.

Randy tried to remember what the Nomicon had said before he’d gotten into this mess. WORDS ARE SHARPER THAN SWORDS obviously did not mean taking the chef robot into the library; that had just led to the library’s destruction (no great loss, as far as he was concerned), but taunting the robot as per usual had ended up with him pinned to a tree.

But Debbie dealt with words all the time. So, maybe…. “Words are sharper than swords.”

“What?”

Randy repeated himself before adding, “That’s what the Nomicon said.”

“What’s the Nomicon?”

“Doesn’t matter now. Can you figure out what it means?”

“You mean beyond what it sounds like?” Debbie must have read something in his face because she sighed and continued, “It’s basically the pen is mightier than the sword, isn’t it? Better to fight with words? Because they’ll cut deeper in the end?”

“That makes no sense,” Randy said, confident of that despite how rattled he felt. “I mean, you can chop someone to bits with a sword.”

“And you can destroy them without lifting a finger with words,” Debbie shot back. Then she frowned, pursed her lips, and added, “Actually, we could do that here.”

“Ruin McFist?” Randy had serious doubts about that. McFist had more money than he knew what to do with, and he used a lot of it to his advantage.

“Not exactly. But we can destroy the truth and craft it into something else if we have to.” She still looked unhappy. “I really don’t want to do that. I’m the editor of the NHGTTWDPC because I like to uphold the truth, uncover it, but…. This might be the only way to turn things around and…and keep that Sorcerer from getting free.”

Randy gaped at her. “And you know how to do that?” Maybe the Nomicon wouldn’t be mad he’d told her. Not if it had given him a clue she’d been able to figure out so easily. After all, if they got through this without the Sorcerer escaping, he could just mind wipe her if he had to.

Although, if she didn’t expose him, he actually wouldn’t mind another ally….

“Howard’s pretending to be the Ninja, isn’t he? Well, then we start there. He won’t be the only one. And neither will you.”

She had her phone out and was dialing a number. Randy frowned. “Wait, who are you—?”

Debbie, with the phone already to her ear, held up one finger. “Hey, Theresa? I need a favour. Like, right now.”

Randy swallowed. The Nomicon might let him get away with telling one more person, but two? It would never— “You can’t tell her anything!”

“You’ll need a ski mask,” Debbie was saying, ignoring him completely, “or something else to cover your face. Black or at least dark. Here’s what we’ve gotta do.”

XXXXXXX

Debbie marched back and forth on the stage in front of the assembled students. Randy sat off the side, trying not to be the centre of attention or to look too obviously like the defeated Ninja he was. He wasn’t sure what Debbie and Theresa had said to convince the half dozen students to leave behind the unfolding scene with the supposed Ninja, and he didn’t know where every kid had gotten dark clothes on such short notice (Julian excepted), but he hoped this would work. Whatever it was.

All he knew was that Theresa had already gone out there wearing her war paint and a scarf she’d found…somewhere. Whenever Howard got ‘exposed’, she was supposed to step up and switch him off. She was going to break out some tumbling moves and baton tricks to confuse McFist, and she was armed with a few Frisbees as Ninja Ring stand-ins when the time came. He’d debated going and begging S. Ward Smith for some real weapons but figured balloons wouldn’t be any better, and the less Debbie knew about everything else, the better.

Right?

“Foam daggers,” Debbie said, handing a box to Rachel to pass out. “Collapsible swords. All the tennis balls I could find in the gym. Randy did a great job covering for the Ninja, guys, but we’ve gotta step it up.”

Bash snorted. “Cunningham completely wonked up when he tried to cover for the Ninja. That’s why we’ve gotta save him!”

No one questioned that someone was after the Ninja now. Debbie hadn’t said it was McFist, of course, or breathed a word about the Sorcerer, but no one needed to see the villain to believe there was one. Not once the Robo-Chef had stopped dead upon unmasking him, having seemingly achieved its purpose—or at least one of them.

“He lasted longer than some of us would have,” Debbie pointed out without missing a beat, “and it might’ve been enough to fool the Ninja’s enemies. Until the real Ninja gets back from his vacay, we’ve gotta save Norrisville ourselves.”

Randy had to hand it to her. It wasn’t a completely terrible lie, and she’d come up with it pretty fast.

“What the juice was the Ninja thinking to ask him to pretend to be the Ninja?” continued Bash, pointing in Randy’s direction. “He’s a complete shoob, and he shoobed this up! I would’ve been way better!”

Randy’s face burned but he kept his mouth shut. Arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and arguing with Bash might end painfully for him. Besides, keeping the tattered remains of his secret intact demanded he not argue. And that he get to Howard as soon as possible to fill him in.

He should probably be shloomping on this, but there wasn’t time. The damage had been done. They needed to do damage control now or there really wouldn’t be a Ninja in Norrisville.

“I’m gonna go check on Howard,” Randy announced, getting to his feet. Debbie didn’t even acknowledge him, instead telling Bash to hide a collapsible sword in his McHoodie—just with the hood on the inside, turned in instead of out, so that it would appear as if he were pulling the sword from nowhere when he retrieved it.

Randy had to hand it to her.

She was good.

She was also good at convincing the others that their eyes had been playing tricks on him, that he wasn’t the real Ninja. And that…hurt, a bit, because he was the real Ninja, the Nomicon said so—he wasn’t going to let it take that back—but if he had to play fake Ninja to preserve the real Ninja, then so be it.

It was a confusing concept, but if it worked, he wasn’t going to argue.

Besides, he really was better off back outside. If this actually worked and McFist threw the mask away, thinking it worthless, then he had to be there to pick it up again. And then the real Ninja could show up. Again. Just for the first time, as far as everyone else was concerned.

And if this didn’t work….

It has to work.

There wasn’t another plan this time.

XXXXXXXX

Viceroy winced as McFist let out another holler entirely too close to his ear. “I wouldn’t contact the Sorcerer yet, sir,” he said carefully, not taking his eyes from the screen.

“But I got him, Viceroy! I defeated the Ninja! Me!”

It was not the time to point out that he had built the Robo-Chef, nor that they’d merely unmasked the Ninja rather than ensured his defeat—especially not when he was about to give McFist some bad news. “Yes, sir. But I’m not sure if we’ve unmasked the right Ninja.”

“Of course it’s the right Ninja! Why wouldn’t it be the right Ninja? Er—what do you mean right Ninja?”

Viceroy pointed to the feed on the screen. The boy—Randy Cunningham, if he remembered correctly—had been helped to his feet by another one of the students. Beyond the crowd the two disappeared into, the multiple hidden cameras in the Robo-Chef clearly showed another Ninja striding onto the scene to take the place of the fallen Ninja.

“Why is there more than one Ninja, Viceroy? There isn’t supposed to be more than one Ninja!”

“I know, sir.” Viceroy frowned as the new Ninja began making terrible puns. “The first Ninja was more convincing than this one, but without—”

“Reactivate the Robo-Chef!” McFist yelled. “I have to defeat the Ninja!”

And because that robot had beaten the last Ninja, he assumed it would make short work of this one, too. Viceroy sighed but couldn’t argue McFist’s logic right now. Their position was precarious as it was, their catering truck easily visible from the school grounds and no doubt within earshot. One of these days, someone would realize how often they were on the scene of an attack.

But until then, they’d make do. And if McFist truly did defeat the Ninja before that and freed the Sorcerer, well, he’d cross that bridge when it came to it.

Although, hopefully, he’d be able to take all the vacation time he’d earned first.

XXXXXXXX

Theresa’s scarf caught on the branches of the bush she was crouching behind, and she reached up to adjust it. She wasn’t sure if Debbie was brilliant or crazy. Le Beret was one thing, but the Ninja? She’d never seriously considered that the Ninja might be one of her classmates, not when he’d been around for over 800 years. She’d laughed whenever Debbie had brought up the very idea. But now….

“Randy’s covering for the Ninja, but he shoobed it up and now we’ve gotta save his butt.” Debbie handed her a backpack filled with Frisbees. “These are your Ninja rings.”

Theresa looked at Randy, who shuffled his feet and didn’t meet her eyes. “Seriously? Where’d you get the sword and everything?”

“Drama department,” Debbie replied without missing a beat. “We’re going to round up a few other kids and hand out the rest of the stuff, but we need someone to cover Howard ASAP because I can’t see him lasting long.”

“And you think I’ll last longer?” She slipped on the backpack, knowing it wasn’t ideal but that she’d need both her arms for this to work—even if this was crazy.

“I think you can move faster, which you’ll need if the attacks begin again.”

“Attacks?” Even when Debbie had first asked her to do this, she hadn’t thought—

“You don’t have to do this,” Randy said, finally looking at her. “I don’t want people getting hurt because of me.”

She tried not to let her heart swell at his words, at the concern in his voice. He’d said people, not you, and she couldn’t pretend it meant the same thing. “I know.” She had to force the next words past her lips. “But I want to do this. For you. And the real Ninja.”

Randy winced, but Debbie had already started talking again, explaining her plan in more detail, and Theresa didn’t have time to wonder about Randy’s reaction. “You’ll have to step up when it looks like Howard’s about to falter. We need him confused.”

“Him? Isn’t it a robot?”

Debbie pursed her lips. “Someone had to build it.”

The truth was, Theresa had never thought about that, either. Monsters and robots…. The Ninja always stopped them. She hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t considered that the robot attacks were relatively new in the grand scheme of things.

Debbie was right, of course. The Ninja didn’t just defend the citizens of Norrisville; he defended himself. The monsters terrorized indiscriminately, but the robots always targeted the Ninja once their attacks had drawn him out. There had to be a human mind behind their design. She had no idea who would try to destroy the Norrisville Ninja, but she doubted it was simply an inquiring mind like Debbie’s. This latest robot had stopped short of a fatal attack, but there had been too many close calls to naïvely assume that wouldn’t have been an acceptable outcome.

Which meant someone in Norrisville saw nothing wrong with destroying Norrisville’s defence against monsters, destroying a beloved town hero, and was highly unlikely to pause for very long when she stepped into the fray.

But she’d agreed to do this.

For Norrisville.

For the Ninja.

For Randy.

He might have been the first to fill in for the Ninja, but he was surely the reason Howard had had a costume stored in his locker. They had both known the Ninja’s plan. They’d always proclaimed to be the Ninja’s number one fans, but she’d never thought much of that, either. But perhaps Howard’s old claim of knowing who the Ninja really was hadn’t been as false as he’d allowed it to seem.

Howard seemed to be doing a decent job of evading the robot that was now chasing him, but it mostly involved him ducking to avoid knives, doubling back because he was still faster than it was, and yelling things over his shoulder. But he was tiring, getting slower, and he’d barely started the actual chase; his appearance itself had been enough to confuse it, to confuse the human behind the robot, but now that the initial shock had worn off….

“I have to get out there,” Theresa realized. If she waited, Howard might make a mistake. And, despite that this was his choice, she’d feel responsible.

She swallowed, trying to gather her courage, and then she stood.

For now, she was a Ninja of Norrisville, and she had to fight accordingly.

XXXXXXXX

Howard clutched at the stitch in his side, gasping and trying to ignore the coppery taste in his mouth, and wondered if his friendship with Randy was worth this pain.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had to save Cunningham’s butt, but he really hoped it was the last.

He dove for a tree, ended up sliding more than rolling, and heard the thunk of a knife embedding itself into the wood above his head.

Maybe it would just be easier to let this robot unmask him, too. Lying here was really appealing right now, giving him a chance to catch his breath even if he still hurt all over, and—

“Ninja Ring! Ninja Ring! Ninja Ring!”

What the juice?

Howard rolled over when he heard the robot moving away from him. Some of the crowd had dispersed, but most were still there, blithely unaware that they were in real danger because the Ninja always saved them. Seeing the Ninja unmasked should have scared them but obviously didn’t—much—because he’d been fast on his feet. (Cunningham definitely owed him for that.)

But if Randy didn’t have his suit, and he was already on the ground, who—?

A blur of purple streaked past, tumbling and grabbing— That was a baton.

That was Theresa.

What the cheese did Fowler think she was doing?

“Get up, Ninja!” she yelled as she dodged another volley of knives. “Unless you like the taste of dirt!”

Wow, she definitely needed some new lines. He got to his feet and made a show of brushing himself off. “You’re late, Ninja!” he called back, successfully distracting the Robo-Chef. It hesitated, its head swivelling back and forth between them, not sure which of them to attack. Just as well. The more time they bought, the better. The Robo-Chef had taken Randy’s mask and stored it a compartment in its chest, probably as a trophy of some sort, or proof, or whatever McFist and the Sorcerer needed, and the only way they were going to get it back would be beating this thing themselves.

Granted, if he could just get close enough to touch it without getting stabbed, it might break on its own.

His magic touch was useful like that.

“I’m not late! You’re just early.” She was trying to sound brave, but he could hear the quaver in her voice. He’d expected to do this; he doubted she ever had.

Didn’t explain why she was doing it now, but he couldn’t exactly ask that in front of everyone.

He’d already opened his mouth to say something else when he realized he was hearing a high-pitched whine coming from the robot. “Duck!” he yelled instead, hitting the dirt again. He rolled on instinct, not stopping to see if Theresa had paid attention to him.

His (brief) stint working with Viceroy had given him a better idea of how the mad scientist worked. Self-learning AI wasn’t out of the question. Vanishing robots weren’t out of the question. He’d be stupid to think Viceroy couldn’t build something that could alter its internal mechanics as easily as its exterior to adapt in a fight.

So, really, getting more knives thrown at him?

Par for the course for today.

“We just need to keep it busy!” he heard Theresa yell. “The others’ll be out soon!”

Others?

That made it sound like this was planned.

But Cunningham didn’t do plans.

That was more for people like—

Oh, that shoob’s cheese was so wonked if Kang had finally put the pieces together. Unless this was some weird ploy on her part to draw out the ‘real Ninja’. Except that assumed she thought Cunningham was another fake Ninja. That didn’t—

Cold hands grabbed him.

Metal.

Hard enough to bruise.

Theresa was screaming.

He didn’t have a free hand to reach the robot, to touch it and make it fall apart. His hands were pinned to his sides. It lifted him up, analyzing him. He heard more people yelling. Saw the blade spring up from the robot’s shoulders.

Howard closed his eyes.

XXXXXXXX

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Debbie waited for their nods before continuing. “Then we’re a go. Bash, come around from the gym. Bucky and Pradeep, cut through the band room. Rachel, head straight out the front doors. Julian, west entrance. Jacques, take the east. For the Ninja!”

“For the Ninja!” they echoed, raising their fists as she had.

They scattered, and she hoped this would work. She didn’t have a backup plan, and casting doubt felt like the only thing she could do. Half the kids who’d shown up had attended Ninja Camp at one point, but someone like Mikey was better off figuring out how to hack into whatever was controlling the robot—there had to be some kind of wireless signal, right?—and disrupting things without actually going out and fighting, so she’d sent him and a few of the others to the computer lab to figure that out.

If they actually managed to trace this back to McFist, well, she’d at least get the scoop before Heidi. If they could find some proof for her, she might be able to publish it. It would be beyond risky, but she wanted to uncover the truth.

Some truths, though, made less sense than others.

Why Randy?

What was the Nomicon?

And what the cheese was all this about a Sorcerer?

Words are sharper than swords. Randy had said that that was important, treated it like it was some kind of clue. But it sounded more like a message for her than for him. If everyone claimed to be the Ninja, it would cast doubt on Randy being the real Ninja. It would help get him out of this scrape, hopefully. Something similar had worked once before; it had to work again. But beyond that….

“I’ll destroy him if I write about this,” she said softly. “If I tell the truth.” People would happily believe Randy was just playing at being the Ninja, considering the Ninja’s legendary reputation, but to hear that, yes, a mere teenager was protecting them? From what could very well be evil incarnate? It wouldn’t go over well. And if this Sorcerer would be freed when the Ninja was destroyed—either by McFist’s robots or her words—then Norrisville would probably become a ruin, too, if the monsters were any indication.

So maybe it wasn’t a clue for Randy after all.

Maybe the words were a warning for her.

If she wasn’t careful, she could dig too deep, cut too much, and destroy the safety that ignorance granted them all.

Debbie swallowed and pushed those thoughts aside. She could deal with the implications later—including the scary ones, like how the heck this Nomicon would know to leave a message for her. Right now, she needed to get outside and make sure her plan was actually going to work instead of falling apart before she could do anything.

XXXXXX

Randy burst outside in time to see the Robo-Chef grab his best friend. He saw the panic in Howard’s eyes, saw his feet flailing as he struggled in vain. Theresa was there, running towards the robot. Her scarf had slipped off her face, revealing her identity to all who hadn’t guessed it, and—

There was no time to find some kind of weapon. Randy took off running, too, yelling wordlessly in a vain attempt to get the robot’s attention. His head pounded with each footstep, but he pushed forward, barrelling towards Howard.

He wasn’t thinking when he took the flying leap toward the robot.

By the time he realized that probably wasn’t the smartest idea, he was scrabbling for purchase on the tiny ridges between the metal plating. Theresa arrived a moment later, breaking her baton in an attempt to get the Robo-Chef’s attention when she whacked at the knife that was attached at its shoulder. It was only when he heard a lot of other yelling and cheering from the still-gathered crowd that he realized the reinforcements had arrived. The other Ninjas.

The robot turned to look, not dropping Howard, who had cracked open an eye at some point. The kids in their makeshift ninja suits were whooping and hollering, grabbing everyone’s attention. The barrage of tennis balls began a moment later, and Randy couldn’t bring himself to care that he was getting pummelled, too. There was something particularly satisfying about seeing them producing daggers and swords (seemingly) from thin air and waving them around, in the true spirit of the Ninja.

The Robo-Chef easily knocked Theresa aside and ignored him, raising one hand to unmask Howard, who plastered a grin on his face. “We’re all the Ninja,” he said. As the others converged on them, he thrust his fist into the air and yelled, “I’m the Ninja!”

Theresa scrambled to her feet and proclaimed the same, and her cry was echoed by the other kids, and then picked up by those in the crowd.

Just like at the Battle of the Bands.

Randy was too busy grinning to join in.

He was also too busy to see Howard put his hand firmly on the Robo-Chef’s torso until it collapsed to pieces beneath him.

“Ow!” He sucked the blood from his finger, even though he knew the cut was shallow and that he was lucky that’s all that he’d gotten considering how many knives had been inside this thing.

“Just track down the real Ninja, will ya, Cunningham?” Howard nodded to the mask that lay in the wreckage. Randy quickly pocketed it and got to his feet. The rest of the kids were beginning to swarm the lawn where the battle had taken place, and it was easy enough to slip away—even without a smoke bomb for a distraction.

He’d just crouched behind his favourite set of Ninja-o’-Clock bushes when he heard, “You gonna fill me in at some point, Cunningham?”

Debbie.

He turned to see her and smiled uncertainly. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking out at the joyful chaos on the lawn instead of at him. “You owe me since this worked,” she added, finally glancing at him.

“Uh…I plead the fifth?”

She snorted. “Off the record, Cunningham. I’m not stupid. I know the truth now, and I can help you. Like Howard apparently does, except better.”

“Uh—”

“Just think about it, Ninja.” She turned back to the crowd outside. “Someone will need to help you keep off McFist’s radar, and there’s power in words.” She stepped away and walked a few steps before turning back with a grin. “They’re sharper than swords, after all.”

(see more fics)

[infiniteglitterfall]

This was one of my favorite books as a kid. I checked it out of the library about a billion times. 

If you’ve never read it, then you probably don’t know about The Story of Baby X!

1974. Thirty-three years ago. This anthology included a story. About a kid being raised without an assigned gender. As a positive thing. 

I didn’t know I was genderqueer at the time, or that that was a thing, or... anything. But it had a huge influence on me. It made it very easy to imagine raising a kid by using gender-neutral pronouns, and waiting to hear a gender, and/or pronouns, from the kid themself. 

And here it is. 

Once upon a time a baby named X was born. It was named X so that no one could tell whether it was a boy or a girl.

Before it was born, scientists created an Official Instruction Manual that would help the families raise baby X.

Many families were interviewed to find the perfect parents for baby X. Families with grandparents named Milton or Agatha, families with aunts who wanted to knit blue shirts and pink dresses, families with other children who wanted a little brother or sister. All of these families didn’t want a baby X, they wanted a baby girl or boy. 

Finally, scientists found the Jones family The Jones family wanted to raise a healthy, happy baby, no matter what kind. They wanted, most of all, to raise a baby X.

The Jones promised to take turns holding X, feeding X, and singing X to sleep.

They promised to never hire any babysitters, because babysitters might try to peek at baby X’s secret.

The day the Joneses brought home their baby, everyone asked, ”Is it a boy or a girl?” To which Mr. Jones replied proudly, ”It’s an X!”

No one knew what to say. They couldn’t say, “look at her cute dimples” or “look at his husky biceps!” And just saying “kitchy-coo” didn’t seem right either.

The neighbors were unsure, and the relatives were embarrassed. “People will think there is something wrong with it!”

And the Joneses didn’t understand this. “What could be wrong with a perfectly healthy and happy baby?” they sat and wondered.

Suddenly everything changed for the Joneses: The cousins who sent a tiny helmet did not come and visit anymore. The neighbors who sent pink, flowered dresses pulled their shades when the Joneses passed their house.

The Official Instruction Manual had warned the new parents this would happen, so they didn’t worry too much. Besides, they were having too much fun raising baby X.

Mr. & Mrs. Jones had to be very careful. Because if they kept bouncing baby X up in the air and saying how strong and active X is, they’d be treating baby X more like a boy. But, if they cuddle and kiss baby X and tell it how sweet and dainty X is, they’d be treating baby X more like a girl rather than an X.

So they consulted the Official Instruction Manual, and the scientists prescribed, “Plenty of bouncing and plenty of cuddling. X ought to be strong, sweet, and active. Forget about dainty altogether.” [Continued below the cut]

There were other problems too, like clothes & toys. On his first shopping trip, Mr. Jones said to the store clerk, “I need some things for my baby.” The clerk smiled and asked, “boy or girl?”

Mr. Jones replied, ”It’s an X,” smiling. The clerk got red in the face and said huffily, “In that case, I’m sorry I can’t help you,” and she stalked away. 

Poor Mr. Jones!

Mr. Jones was very confused, but continued to walk down the aisle. But everything in the store was marked BOYS or GIRLS: boys’ pajamas, girls’ underwear, boys’ fire engines, girls’ doll set.

That night Mr. & Mrs. Jones consulted The Official Instruction Manual. It said firmly, “buy plenty of everything! But try to keep it gender neutral.”

So they bought all kinds of toys. A boy doll that made pee-pee and cried. A girl doll that talked three languages and said, "I am the President of General Motors."

They bought story books about a brave princess who rescued a handsome prince, and another one about a sister and brother who grew up to be a baseball star and a ballet star and you had to guess which.

The scientists were pleased with the Joneses. They checked in with the Joneses and baby X often, and they were thrilled with the progress baby X was making.

They made sure the Joneses knew to "never make baby X feel embarrassed or ashamed about what it wants to play with. And if X gets dirty climbing rocks, never say, ‘nice little Xes don't get dirty climbing rocks.’ Likewise, if baby X fell down and cries, don't ever say, "Brave little Xes don't cry."

Because after all, little Xes DO get dirty and brave little Xes CAN cry.

Once a little girl grabbed X's shovel In the sandbox and hit X on the head with it. Her mother immediately scolded her, "Now Tracy, you know better than that, little girls mustn't hit little….” The mother turned to X and asked, "dear, are you a little boy or a girl?"

Mr. Jones held his breath and waited hopefully for X's reply. X smiled politely, holding back tears from being hit on the head, and said, "I'm a little X."

"You're a what?!" the lady exclaimed angrily. "You're a little brat is what you are. Either way Tracy, little girls mustn't hit... whatever this child is." And the woman took her child away. 

Mr. Jones was upset, but he was pleased that Baby X didn't associate with either gender, nor did X recognize a difference in gender.

The hardest part was yet to come.

Baby X wasn't a baby anymore. It was time for X to start school, and with school came a whole new set of problems.

Schools are full of rules for girls and girls, and they weren't sure where their little X would fit in. Teachers tell students to form a boy line and a girl line. There are games for boys and areas to play for girls. Even the school library has a girl section and a boy section. The bathrooms are marked girl and boy to keep their secrets, but how would they keep X's secret?

The Joneses were summoned to a meeting with the scientists. The scientists were confident that with the school’s cooperation, everything would be fine.

The Joneses followed the Official Instruction Manual. They made sure that X's mother taught X how to throw and catch a ball, and that X's father had taught X what to serve at a doll's tea party. X knew how to play with kitchen sets, shoot marbles, play sports, and color in the lines, but best of all, X knew what to say when asked if it was a boy or a girl. X was, above all else, an extremely happy child.

X's teachers had promised to cooperate. X's class would line up alphabetically, instead of separate lines for boys and girls. The principal gave X permission to use his private bathroom because it wasn't marked by gender, it simply said “bathroom." 

No one, however, could help with what might pose the biggest problem at school -- other children.

Nobody in X's class had ever known an X. None of the other children had ever even heard of an X. What would the other children think? What would they say? Would they make Xist jokes? Or would they make friends?

You couldn't tell what X was by its clothing. Overalls don't button right to left, like girls' clothes, or left to right like boys' clothes. And did X have long hair for a boy or short hair for a girl? As for the games X liked to play, either X played ball very well for a girl, or played house very well for a boy.

The children tried to figure it out by asking X tricky questions. Like, "who's your favorite sports star?" and X had two favorite sports stars: A male gymnast and a female boxer.

Then they asked, "What's your favorite TV show?" And X said “Lassie," a show that stars a girl dog played by a boy dog.

When X said its favorite toy was a doll, they all thought X was a girl… until X told them the doll was really a robot, that X had programmed to bake fudge.

After that the children stopped trying to figure out what X was. All they knew they'd like to see that doll (which the boys kept calling an "action figure”).

After school X wanted to play with the other kids. "How about shooting some baskets in the gym," X asked the girls. They just made faces at X and giggled behind X's back. "Boy, is she weird," they said.

"Would you like to make a basket in the arts and crafts room," X asked the boys. But they just made faces and laughed behind X's back. "Boy, is he weird," they said.

Poor X just walked away sadly. "Why don't the other kids want to play with me?" X thought.

That night Mr. & Mrs. Jones asked X how things had gone at school. X tried to smile, but there were tears in X's eyes. "The lessons are ok, but….”

"But? But what, dear?" Mrs. Jones asked anxiously. She hated seeing her child upset.

"The other children hate me," X exclaimed as tears fell.

"They hate you? Surely they can't hate you."

"They do," cried X, "they won't play with me."

The Joneses grabbed their child and told X it would be all right, as they tried to convince themselves the same thing.

The Joneses called the scientist about their troubled child.

Their response was simply, "What did you expect? Other children have to obey silly boy/girl rules, because their parents taught them to, whether they realized it or not. Luckily, X, you don't have rules at all. All you have to do is be yourself. We know this isn't easy, but you are so much more lucky than the other kids."

X liked being itself, but X was still upset and cried a lot that night. The Joneses tucked their child into bed and held X while X cried, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones cried too. Mrs. Jones then read X one of X's favorite stories about an enchanted prince called Sleeping Handsome who woke up only after the Brave Princess kissed him.

The next morning they all felt much better. Little X went back to school with a brave smile and a clean pair of red and white overalls.

That day at school there was a 7 letter spelling bee, a 7 lap boys relay race, and a 7 layer cake baking contest in the girls kitchen corner. X won the spelling bee. X also won the relay race. And X almost won the baking contest, but forgot to put the sprinkles on top. Hey, no one is perfect. Many students however, complained that X just wanted to win at everything. But then something strange happened.

The children began to really look at X. One even said, "X doesn't care about winning. X just thinks its fun playing boys' stuff and girls' stuff." Another child added, "If you think about it, it’s like X gets to have twice as much fun as we are."

After school that day, the girl who beat X in the baking contest gave X the biggest slice of her cake. The boy who X beat in the relay race asked to race X across the playground. After that, things really started to get strange.

Suzie, who sat next to X, refused to wear pink dresses to school anymore. She wanted to wear pants. Pants, she told her mom, were easier for climbing monkey bars.

Then, Jim, the football nut, started carrying his football around and treating it like it was a person, or a doll. Even when he put his entire uniform on, he treated his football like it was a person and sang to it. The kids didn't think anything of it because that's what X did, and X was the star quarterback.

Suzie's parents were horrified by her behavior. Jim's parents were worried sick about his. But the worst was when the twins, Joe and Peggy, started sharing everything. Peggy used Joe's hockey skates, his microscope, and took half of his paper route. Joe used Peggy's needlepoint kit, her cookbooks, and took on half of her baby-sitting jobs. Joe showed Peggy how to use the lawnmower and Peggy showed Joe how to use the vacuum.

Their parents were not pleased. Even if Peggy mowed the lawn better, or Joe loved to vacuum. They were furious. "It's all that kid X's fault."

That's what all the parents started saying. "That kid doesn't know what it is, or how it's supposed to act," Suzie's mom argued.

"X is trying to do the same thing to our kids so it isn't the only one acting like that," cried another parent. Suddenly kids were forbidden to play with X, even at school.

But it was too late, the kids loved their new friend. They refused to go back to the way they were before X came along.

Finally, the parents held a meeting to discuss "The X Problem." They sent a report to the principal saying the X was a "bad influence" and immediate action needed to be taken. They said the Joneses should be forced to tell whether X was a boy or a girl and that X should have to start acting like whichever it was.

If the Joneses refused to tell, the parents felt that X should have to take an Xamination. An Impartial Team of Experts would figure out X's secret and X would have to start obeying the gender rules.

They also felt that if X ended up being some sort of confused misfit, then X must be Xpelled from school so X could stop filling their children's heads with nonsense ideas.

The principal was very upset. Was X really a bad influence? Was X a mixed-up misfit?

He told the parents that X was a wonderful student, caring and compassionate, inclusive, and never negative towards another student. X was student council president, X was respected and looked up to by other students. X had won honorable mention at the art show and was a key player on many of their sports teams. X was the example of what a good student should be at the school.

The parents wouldn't listen. "X is a problem child," they shouted. And the principal had no choice but to notify X's parents, and the Joneses reported this to the scientists.

They said, "we knew this would come sooner or later. This will be the ultimate test to know the effects of X's upbringing, and to see if X is in some way ‘mixed up,’ or if everyone else is."

The scientists were nervous, but the Joneses knew their child was not mixed up at all. They knew they had raised their child to know exactly who it was.

At 9 a.m. the next day X reported to the office. The principal, along with the Parents' Association, and X's teachers, classmates, and parents all waited in the hall.

Inside the office, the Xperts were doing different types of psychological evaluations to try and figure out if X was male or female and if X was in any way "mixed up.”

Question after question after question, X answered them all patiently. After what felt like forever, the door opened. Everyone crowded around to hear the results.

X didn't look any different; in fact, X was smiling. The team of experts, however, looked stumped.

"So, what happened?" someone shouted after a long silence. The lead expert took off his glasses and pinched his noise, in a frustrated motion. "In our opinion," he began to say, "In our opinion, young X here is the least mixed up child we have ever seen."

"I told you, mom," exclaimed Suzie. Her mother was furious, but all around her, X's family, teachers, and classmates were cheering.

The parent committee was angry and confused. How could X have passed the entire examination with no issues?! X doesn't know if it is a girl or a boy. How could it not be mixed up?!

The experts spoke up and said, "X knows exactly who it is. X was brought up to be exactly who X wanted to be, with no restrictions on gender, no boundaries to follow."

"We don't care, we still want it to act like whatever it is," one parent shouted.

"Well then, ma'am, the answer is simple. X is an x!" said a male expert. He then went over to the Joneses and hugged them. "Your child is extraordinary. If I ever have children, I hope you'll let me borrow your instruction manual. You've done a fine job raising your child." And they began packing up.

"But wait!" the parents shouted. "We still need to know what it is."

The experts smiled and said, "Don't worry. You'll all know soon enough. And when the time comes, you won't need us to tell you." With that they walked out the door.

"What?! What do you mean?!" A parent asked in confusion.

"They mean that by the time it matters what sex X is, it won't be a secret anymore,” said the principal, smiling.

The Joneses were thrilled. They had raised a beautiful child who knew exactly who it was and wasn't restricted by any gender rules.

The scientists were relieved their ideas were correct.

The students were glad their friend wasn't "mixed up" in any way, because they liked X just the way X was.

The parents eventually came around and promised not to make any more trouble. They even allowed their children to go to X's birthday party that year.

At X's birthday party, they walked into the backyard and found X playing with a tiny baby that none of them had seen before. The baby was wearing a yellow shirt and tiny overalls.

"How do you like our new baby?" X asked proudly.

“It's got cute dimples," Joe said smiling.

“It's got husky biceps too," Suzie laughed.

"What kind of baby is it?" Peggy asked.

X frowned at them. “Can't you tell?!" X broke into a mischievous grin. "It's a Y!"

[serensama]

I'm really in love with the prompt of MC being in highschool (because I'm in highschool ) so I wanted you to do a post how the RFA + v and saeran react to MC being in highschool her dad was a rock star and her mom is a model but left home because they were abusive and my can't see her twin brother and sister and her other siblings and mc is an upcoming rock star and actress.... I know this is a lot but thank you 💖

Alright so before you all read this I had spoken to the lovely @micaela-turtle-02 and confirmed that I could break up the prompt as I did because this was just a little too much for each person to deal with and I couldn’t do the prompt any justice. So under the cut are short HC’s for each RFA member and how they help this high schooler to cope! My apologies for making you wait so long my dear, it’s been a crazy ride so far! TRIGGER WARNING: includes mention of abuse, suicidal thoughts, neglectful parents, homelessness.  

Yoosung:Coping with famous parents

-      TellsMC to come over to his house so she can hang out with his family and not bealone.

-      Hismother could ‘mother’ enough for more than 10 families.

-      Shedoesn’t accept his offer for a very long time, she’s embarrassed and doesn’twant to be a burden.

-      Shedoesn’t want to seem like a charity case.

-      Butwhen she does… she hates that it took her so long to do so. It was the familyshe had always dreamed of, parents who were there, siblings who looked up totheir parents instead of the eldest child. A proper family unit.

-      Whenher parents came back after a trip to an empty house, they wonder where theirchildren are. When they continue to disappear after school they ask after them…and they are furious. They find out where they’ve been going and they’re incensedthat they’ve let their private lives be known to other people who could selltheir story. What would the media do to all of them?

-      MrsKim heard the root of their concerns and was on the war path. Screaming andyelling at the famous people who had so rudely barged into her home.

-      Yoosunghugged MC whilst entertaining her siblings to keep them from hearing theirparents fighting. If all of this trouble resulted in MC being able to smile, itwould have all been worth it.

Zen: Copingwith leaving home

-      Henoticed that she became more withdrawn, that she’s losing weight and is somehowalways the first at school and always had an excuse to stay behind.

-      Soone day, he stays back too.

-      Zensaw that she helped the lunch lady and in turn, was allowed to eat the scrapsof food.

-      Afterthat she ran to the library and studied and when it finally closed she ran tothe locker rooms. She took the towels and lay them out on top of the benchesand went to sleep on them.

-      Shewas living at school, she was homeless.

-      Heknew that she must have been having showers and washing her clothes at the sametime so no one would realise that she needed help. So no one would notice.

-      Buthe did.

-      Thenext day he offered her lunch and they talked; he quickly finds out that she iskind and funny and is genuinely asking if she would like to stay at his house-and not just out of pity. He once had a family at home, it’s sometimes tooquiet just on his own.

-      Afterthree days of staying at his house (each day with Zen finding an excuse for herto stay) she finally asks how long he had known she was homeless and he justsmiles and shares his dinner with her before replying,

“What are you talking about, MC? You’re home.”

Jaehee:Coping with burgeoning fame

-      Shecouldn’t believe that she was going to school with this girl! A pop star and amodel?!

-      …but… she was always so quiet and all alone…

-      Everyonewas too nervous and star struck to talk to her! Besides what would they have incommon to talk about?

-      Untilone day Jaehee saw MC look longingly at a group of friends just talking andeating together.

-      She’slonely.

-      Itmust be lonely all by yourself day in and day out, with only people fawningover you but never wanting to know the real you.

-      Whenshe finally talked to MC, the star was so happy- she beamed from ear to ear!

-      Shewas all too quick to reveal that she hated the whole fame thing, to besurrounded by people but to have no one able to see her or listen to her…

-      “Well,I can see you, I hear you! You’re not alone, not now.”

Jumin:Coping with High School

-      Shewas at the top of their class…

-      Butshe was slipping.

-      MChad removed herself from club activities and stopped saying yes to socialisingwith her friends… As Class President, it was his job to be concerned over hisfellow students. Even without the Principal muttering to him about it incessantly.

-      Throughhis advanced investigative skills (ie he followed her), he finds her alone inone of the private study rooms.

-      “MC…what is happening with you?”“What do you mean?“Your studies…”“Oh, that.”

-      Hedidn’t expect her to be so forthright, then again she didn’t expect him tocare. She tells him the truth, that she’s just burnt out, that she just didn’tcare anymore.

-      Andsurprisingly, he understands.

-      Heworks himself to the bone to please his father, foregoing any of his dreams tocontinue on with the family business (she nodded along to his words, herparents want her to succeed in business and not “show business” as she had soonce desperately dreamed).

-      Juminresigned himself into helping her continue doing what it was she loved butstill balance and excel in all that was expected of her. They can’t sayanything about her lead role in the play distracting her from her studies whenshe has the highest grades in school.

-      Wheneverhe would start to see her falter or stress too much- he sits her down andbreathes with her, and they spend the period or sometimes the whole day together,just breathing.

Saeyoung:Coping with not seeing their siblings

-      MCwas crying in class again- she thinks she’s so quiet and her breathing so eventhat no one could ever tell, but he can. He can practically taste the salt ofher tears.

-      Sherefused to pay attention in class and continues to look wistfully into herphone.

-      Itis only by chance that he sees that she’s staring at a photo on her screen, itlooked like her with her younger siblings.

-      Afterclass, he hung back and simply said that the twins were cute when everyone elsewas out of earshot.

-      MClooked at him and burst out crying.

-      Saeyoungpanicked thinking he had broken the girl, gingerly comforting her as best as hecould. Through her sobs, he managed to piece together that she had successfullygotten herself emancipated but her parents refused to let her visit hersiblings.

-      Thethought made him irrationally angry- the idea of anyone keeping Saeran awayfrom him… he wouldn’t know what he would do in her situation. Nodding tohimself he told her to sit tight and to keep her head down- he’d think ofsomething to help her.

-      Twoweeks later both children are put into their Aunt’s custody, who was horrifiedand appalled know of the dire situation at home and petitioned with the courtsto have them all live with her.

-      Saeyoungnever wanted it to be found out that it was him who sent disturbing evidence toher Aunt and child services.

-      Oncethe dust settled she invited him to lunch so he could meet them all.

-      Hesat with her as they watch over her younger brother and sister she pounced onhim and wrapped her arms around him. Whether he liked it or not, she knew itwas him- and she was grateful.

Saeran:Coping with abusive parents

-      Itwasn’t hard to see the cuts and bruises.

-      Notwhen he was so used to covering them up himself.

-      Atfirst, he had wanted to believe that she was just a klutz… until he had seenher father pick her up from school. The iron clad grip he had on her wrist wasenough to leave indentations to her bones- so it was no surprise that on thenext day she wore long sleeves; but not long enough to hide the new purple and yellowbruises on her wrist.

-      Heasked her to follow him and she did, not seeing the harm into following him.

-      Saerantook off his shirt and of course MC freaked the hell out.

-      “Thisone,” he said pointing to one scar, “was from my mother- she was angry that I atea cookie before dinner you see. This one was from my father, because I was tooscared to look at him in the eye.”

-      Shetouched his scars and showed him her own, both crying bitterly at their jointpain.

-      Heasked her to stay with him, his own deadbeat parents long gone from thepicture, it was just him and his brother now.

-      Sheagreed, what else did she have to lose at this point?

-      Ofcourse, it wasn’t long before her father found her. He asked around and soonfound out she was boarding with two brothers- the slut, he called out to her in front the Saeran’s house. Come out, get your ass home, stop whoringyourself out to two boys to keep a roof over your damn head!

-      WhilstSaeyoung kept MC calm, Saeran kept her father’s mouth shut. With his fist. Lodgedin his face.

-      Herfather tried their best to charge the teen with assault and battery only to becountered with MC’s confession that Saeran was only protecting her from beingabused- again.

-      Thecharges were quickly dropped against Saeran, but he refused to allow MC to dropher case against her father.

-      “Idon’t care if they send me to jail MC- I’m not above getting the boys in thecell block to teach an abusive father a lesson. Don’t give up the fight, notyet. Because I’m still fighting for you, so you keep fighting too, okay?”

 V: Copingwith not coping with anything

-      Hewas taking random pictures, as he was wont to do, and he took one of MC justsitting on her own in the corner of the yard- she just looked so sad.

-      Hecouldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop taking pictures of the sad girl. Couldn’tstop observing her.

-      Shedidn’t seem quite…. There. Her mind often wandered and she spent a lot of timedazing off or looking listlessly out of the window during class.

-      Thenone day as he returned to the classroom because he forgot something, he saw heremptying her locker… and then filling it back up… only to empty it back intoher bag.

-      Shewas shaking. Crying. Absolutely lost.

-      Hecould no longer watch any longer.

-      Hewalked over to her and helped her pack her belongings back into her locker andlead her to a nearby park.  

-      Andthey sat there. For what felt like hours… couldhave been hours… in silence.

-      Asthe sun began to set she simply whispered, “I wanted to die. School’s too hard.My family… my family hate me and I’m just… useless. My friends don’t noticeanything. Don’t care. Don’t see. I’m just… are they even my friends? I… I justwanted to die.”

-      Shelooked up to see V’s shock and what she thinks is pity in his eyes. “You don’t have to pity me-”“It’s not pity,” he interrupts, a kind but apprehensive smile on his face. “It’sconcern. It’s worry.”

“You don’t even know me-”“Now I do-”“You don’t care-”“I do.” “No one would even really notice. No one did!”“… I did.”

-      Heheld her until she stopped crying- she didn’t even know when she had begun, buthe stayed with her until the tears ran dry.

-      Heaccompanied her to the doctor and to the counsellor she was referred to.

-      Shenever missed an appointment- and neither did he. He’d always be waiting for herwhen she finished.

-      Vtook pictures of her everyday as a montage of her recovery. There was onephoto, where she’s finally smiling, her first real smile in… forever… and shehas that up in her locker. Still full of her belongings and ready to keepfighting.

-      However,he doesn’t know that she’s taken a photo of him too. She keeps it under herbooks, right at the bottom- so if she ever gets that bad again- the last thingshe’ll see is his smiling face and remember, that she’s not alone.

-      “Thankyou, for seeing me.”          “Ahh MC, you shine so brightly- I couldn’t look away.”

[thesithdiaries]

Is It Over Between Us? (Part 3) (Peter Parker imagine)

Is It Over Between Us? (Part 3) (Peter Parker imagine)

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: includes spoilers for the Homecoming plot

Words: 2.5K

Part 1 | Part 2 

A/N: This got dark at the end. I’m sorry

@mjwavson ; @aewhite624 ; @the-lynnie-the-pooh ; @itsssmichelleee ; @writeyspideythewebsitter ; @africanqueen2002 ; @peteypxrker ; @pomonasprowt ; @luikey288 ; @light-the-bug ; @bubblegumsycth ; @penelocat ; @t0mholland ; @thebadassbitchqueen ; @curlycals ; @marvel-imagines-yes-please 

- 

After your return, you made sure you and Peter were on the same page. It was a long talk, it took maybe two hours, but you both let everything out. Now, you felt everything was okay. 

Later that week, Peter discovered that some guys were selling weapons with alien technology. He called Tony and Happy almost every day, but he never got answers. Peter went with the decathlon team to Washington D.C. for their tournament. But you knew he went there to track the bad guys.

As you sat in your room, you got tons of messages from Peter. The power core from the weapon was basically a grenade and it went off when Ned and the others were in an elevator in the Washington Monument. Thankfully, Spider-Man made it just in time and saved them all. Then, Peter went to the Staten Island Ferry and confronted all of them. While trying to capture the guy with the wings, a weapon malfunctioned and the ferry teared in half.

Before anything worse could happen, Iron Man arrived and saved everyone. But then, he took Peter’s suit away because of how reckless he was. When you opened the front door of your house, Peter was wearing an oversized t-shirt and some pajama pants. But that wasn’t important, what really mattered was that he was about crying.

‘’Pete, what happened?’’ you asked softly, pulling him inside. He pressed his back against the closed door and slid down. ‘’Please tell me.’’

‘’He… he took it’’ he told you before he started sobbing. You need in front of him and hugged him. Peter hid his face in the crook of your neck and just cried for what seemed like hours. ‘’Mr. Stark took my suit.’’

‘’What? Are you serious?’’ You were genuinely shocked.

Homecoming

 You got there few hours before Peter, because you needed to finish up with some last-minute décor. But now you were in the middle of the dance floor dancing along with your friends. Minutes later you felt someone tugging your arm. Turning around, you saw Peter. 

‘’Hey babe!’’ You exclaimed, pecking his lips. That was when you noticed that was pale as paper. ‘’You okay?’’

 ‘’Can we talk?’’ He whispered. Grabbing his hand, you took him to an empty hallway. ‘’Liz is his daughter.’’

‘’What are you talking about?’’

‘’The bad guy, the guy with the wings. I just found out she’s his daughter’’ you noticed he was shaking a lot.

‘’Does she know?’’ He shook his head. ‘’Okay, what are you going to do?’’

‘’I have to go after him’’ your heart dropped.

‘’But Peter… what about the dance?’’ You’ve been waiting for this day for months, he couldn’t just bail on you. ‘’Pleas-‘’ 

‘’I have to do this, Y/N. I can’t just let him get away with it. I’m sorry’’ he gave you a kiss and ran off, leaving you standing there by yourself. Your eyes filled with tears and you bit your lip to stop your sobs.

 The next day showed up in your house again, apologizing non-stop about what happened. You were still hurt but nonetheless you forgave him.

Second week of school – junior year

You just got out physics class with a confused expression written on your face. Let’s just say that it wasn’t your best subject. Peter had texted you that he was in the library studying.

As you got closer to the library, you heard giggling. That’s weird but you didn’t pay attention to it. When you walked in, you felt that time stood still. 

Peter had Michelle pressed up against one of the bookshelves. They were kissing.

You stood there, your heart going crazy and your stomach turning. Not a word came out of your mouth. You didn’t scream, you didn’t move, you just waited. Peter didn’t push her away at any moment. You saw his hands reach down towards her ass, groping it. But Michelle’s hand went another route, groping something else.

You quietly walked towards the table that had their stuff and slammed Peter’s calculator against it. They both jumped, startled and they looked at you. Michelle looked embarrassed but Peter’s face took the cake. ‘’Oh, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to return this’’ you giggled, trying to show that it didn’t affect you. You turned around and walked out as fast as you could. Your breathing was erratic, your eyes blurry with tears. You heard someone running behind you but you didn’t care about it anymore.

‘’Wait!’’ Peter grabbed your arm roughly to make you stop. You began trashing around, desperate to get away from him. ‘’Babe please!’’

‘’No! You don’t get to call me that anymore!’’ You screamed, pushing him away with all of your strength. “I hate you.’’

‘’No… Y/N, you don’t mean that’’ he told you, slowly walking towards you again.

 ‘’Don’t come near me!’’ You screeched, making him stop. Looking straight at him, you took off the promise ring he gave you during summer break and threw it at him.. ‘’ I hate you, Peter Parker.’’

As soon as you got home, you told your parents what happened. She had gone through something similar when she was younger, so she completely understood. Your dad wanted to beat Peter up, but you told him that it wasn’t worth it. 

Days passed, and you didn’t go to school. People could say that it wasn’t a big deal and that you would get over it. You knew you would but this hurt too much. Peter was your first love. You had your first kiss together. You gave each other everything. During the weekend, you told your parents that you wanted to change schools. They refused at first, but when they realized how you would be if you stayed in Midtown.

On Monday, you went with your mom to an art school. You took your portfolios with you, and the principal was so delighted by your skills that he approved your late admission. You went back to Midtown that day. Everyone was in class at the moment, so the hallways were empty.

You went to the principal’s office and told them that you wouldn’t be returning to school. He was surprised, you were one of the best students but he didn’t ask questions. After that, you grabbed a box and went to your locker. You took everything out. All that was left was all the pictures of you and Peter. Ripping them off, you tore them apart and threw them in the trash.

Taking a deep breathe, you picked up the box from the floor and started walking towards the entrance of the school. 

‘’Y/N’’ someone called out behind you. It was Michelle.

‘’Sorry, do I know you?’’ You smirked.

‘’Y/N, don’t be like that. We’re friends. Why are you leaving?’’ She asked, her vice laced with sadness.

‘’What’s the point of me staying in this school? It’s filled with traitors’’ you shrugged.

‘’It was an accident Y/N, I never meant to kiss him’’ she lied. It was a obviously a lie.

‘’So, you kissed him by accident. You let him press you against the wall on accident. You groped his dick and he groped your ass on accident… Okay, if I slapped you right now, can we consider it an accident?’’ You asked her cynically. Her face dropped, she was so embarrassed. 

‘’Let me expl-‘’ she began but you cut her off. 

‘’No, you don’t get to explain anything. You were my friend Michelle. You knew how important Peter was to me and you both ruined it. You’re a traitor’’ you told her without sugar coating it. ‘’I’m leaving for good. Don’t worry, you can have Peter. You love picking up the scraps that others leave, that’s your specialty.’’ Michelle’s eyes were filled with tears at this point, but you didn’t feel one bit of remorse. So, you left, leaving her there.

Peter was calling you every five minutes, he texted you nonstop. He even went to your house twice, knocking on the front door and on your bedroom window. But you ignored him, it was too soon to face him. You were still hurting. Michelle had told him everything that happened between the two of you and he felt guiltier because he was the reason you were changing everything in your life. Two weeks flew by and he finally realized that you weren’t going to talk to him anymore.

Two months later

 You were doing great in art school. You felt free, happy, healthier. But Peter was the complete opposite. He didn’t really sleep. After word got out about what happened, people turned against him and Michelle. Ned was the only one that really talked to them, but he was mad too. He couldn’t believe what had happened. Peter ended up cutting Michelle off, every time that he looked at her, he thought of you. Aunt May also knew what happened. Her face of disappointed was engraved in Peter’s mind.

Peter did keep an eye on you, he basically stalked you. He just wanted to see you and know how you were doing.

6 YEARS LATER – EMPIRE STATE UNIVERSITY

Peter got a science scholarship for ESU, because of his outstanding work in school. You, thanks to your talent, got an art scholarship.

Even though you were in the same college for five years, you never saw each other before.

Peter was walking around campus, trying to see the new places. It wasn’t long until he found the art department. Students were hanging posters, painting walls and lockers, taking out finished sculptures. He was fascinated by everything. Not wanting to ruin anything, he turned to leave but that was when he heard it.

A very distinct giggle.

 He turned slowly, his heart about to jump out of his chest. You walked out of a classroom, holding few canvases in your hands. You looked different. Your hair was even shorter, it reached the middle of your neck. You got curvier, it looked like you were eating well and going to the gym more. You had denim shorts, black top and sneakers. And you were covered with paint splatters. 

Peter slowly walked towards you. ‘’Y/N?’’ He whispered.

‘’Peter’’ you gasped. It’s been so long since you last saw him. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

‘’I got a science scholarship…’’

‘’You did?’’ You gasped and smiled, ‘’congratulations!’’

‘’Y/N… can we please talk later?’’ He asked you before he could even stop himself. 

‘’Sure. Just stop by when you finish classes, okay? I’m gonna be painting some sculptures.

Few hours later, Peter got out of class and went to see you immediately. The hallways in the department were empty, which he found it strange. He walked into the classroom, and there you were. There was more paint on you than on the sculpture.

‘’Pete! Hey, have a seat’’ you exclaimed, pointing to a see close to you. Peter walked slowly, scared of tripping over something. ‘’What did you wanna talk about?’’

‘’I’m sorry’’ he blurred out. You put your paint brush on the table and looked at him. ‘’I know there’s no excuse for what I did to you. I’m so sorry that I ruined what we had. I don’t even know why I kissed her that day but I swear that you were the only one in my mind.’’

‘’It’s fine Peter, that was years ago. I was actually going to call you few months after what happened but I didn’t even know what to say to you. It’s all in the past now, alright? It doesn’t matter’’ you assured him, flashing him a smile.

‘’But Y/N, I hurt you so badly. I’m so sorry’’ he apologized again

 ‘’I told you it was fine. We both got over it and went on with our lives. Don’t worry about it anymore. Just focus on what’s happening now.’’

‘’Can we start over?’’ He begged, and you nodded. ‘’I’m Peter’’ he said, extending his hand towards you. You shook it a bit. 

‘’Hey, I’m Y/N’’

Months went by and you and Peter became friends again. You obviously tried to keep the past in the past, trying to at least give him a chance. And he was trying to not make a mistake again. You weren’t a couple, but you did kiss few times. 

Since he was still Spider-Man, he was patrolling around town. He heard dozens of police cars, so he decided to follow them. They stopped in front of S.H.I.E.L.D. Peter was a little confused, so he sat nearby, trying to hear what the officers were saying. Out of nowhere, he felt someone grabbing him from behind. He tried to fight it off but that person took him. 

It was a secluded part of a beach. And right now, Peter was getting beat up, he really didn’t stand a chance. His attacker knocked him out and left him there.

You were walking to your apartment, when someone tapped on your shoulder. ‘’Hello darling.’’ You turned and tried to scream, but that person covered your mouth with a cloth. It was just a matter of seconds until you were unconscious.

You woke up on a beach. Sitting up slowly, you looked around you and saw Peter not far away. You ran to him and fell on your knees. You slowly took off what was left of his mask and let out a sob. His face was covered in blood and bruises, just like his body.

“Peter?’’ You cried, trying not to move him. ‘’Please wake up.’’

‘’Y/N’’ he whispered. ‘’Get out of here.’’ 

‘’I’m not leaving you, come on’’ you got up, and you helped him get to his feet carefully. You put his arm around your neck and started walking slowly.

‘’Going so soon?’’ A voice said behind you. You both turned.

It was the Green Goblin. 

‘’Please stay, the party has just begun’’ he laughed manically.

‘’She has nothing to do with this. Let her go’’ Peter demanded, making him laugh even more.

‘’Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Peter. You destroyed my life, and now I’m going to destroy yours.’’

Using his glider on full speed, he headed towards you. Peter got to you first and held you at arm’s length from his body. Right there, the blade on the glider impaled his body. You let out an ear-splitting scream. Peter cried, trying to stay up. ‘’I love you’’ he muttered. Somehow, you managed to push the Goblin off, and he took a fatal hit as he reached the ground. 

‘’Peter?’’ You called him, but he didn’t reply. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards your body, impaling yourself. Not being able to hold it, you fell back and Peter fell on top of you. He was barely alive, just like you. With your last breath, you said:

‘’I love you.’’