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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

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achillestiel · 3 years

Text

the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part three

Tag List: @littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove @deancas-handprint @castiel-loves-dean @wanderermatthews @thelahatiel @priscillahc @mridzyp @multi-fandom-dark-lord @thefantasyfiend @harmonyhelms @imlivingliferightnow

Dean knew that one day his life would catch up with him and he’d have to explain everything to Claire but this definitely wasn’t how he had planned on doing it. He definitely didn’t expect to be driving to Washington DC with his son. His son. The truth was that he’d thought about Jack a lot over the years. Time and time again he had wanted to call Cas and get to know his child but they’d made an arrangement. Dean got Claire and Cas got Jack. No need to see each and drive each other crazy. Still, Dean had always wondered about his son and now here he was, sat in the impala and complaining loudly over Dean’s music.

“Ok, ok. Enough about the music.” Dean said when Jack’s complaining got to be too much. “We got a long drive ahead of us and I’m sure you have questions. Not gonna lie, I’ve got questions too.” Dean said. Jack let out a long sigh, clearly gearing himself up and Dean braced himself.

“Ok...um...how did you and dad meet?”

“Wow, straight out the gate.” Dean said. “Um, well your dad was studying Political Science and Economics at KU. With you guys being in DC now I’m guessing he got that government job he always wanted. Anyway, I was working at the garage owned by a family friend, guy called Bobby. He’s like an honorary grandpa to Claire. So, Cas’ car broke down so he brought it to the garage. I thought he was cute so gave him a really good discount, in return he asked me out for a drink. The rest is history.”

“Not really…” Jack said. “I’m still confused. What happened after that?”

“Well...we dated while your dad was finishing up at college. After that we went on a cruise ‘cause I’m not great with flying and your dad really wanted to go to London. Turns out I’m not good on boats either. I threw up a lot.”

“Is that when you and dad got tipsy and got married by the captain?”

“How did you know that?”

“Uncle Gabriel told me and made me promise to not tell dad. Apparently it’s why dad refuses to watch Titanic.” Jack said. “Dad? Dean...no, dad...can I ask you something?”

“Of course kid. This is Winchester Question Time after all.” Dean said.

“Are you mad me at and Claire for doing this? Why do we have to switch back so soon? Don’t...don’t you want to spend time with me?” Jack asked and damn if Dean’s heart didn’t break a tiny bit, ok a lot, then.

“Well damn Jack, of course I want to spend time with you buddy. Just ‘cause you’re not around doesn’t mean I don’t love you to the moon and back.It’s just, as much as I want you around, you belong to Cas. Kind of like how Claire belongs to me.” Dean explained.

“We’re kids, not pieces of furniture.”

“Yeah I know and I know this sucks but it’s the agreement that me and your dad came to. Neither of us wanted you and Claire to constantly be going back and forth between houses and you were both so little at the time.”

“Personally I think Claire and my idea to switch places was less idiotic.” Jack said. The kid may have had a point.

Before Dean could even reply his phone burst into life with a video call from Sam and Eileen. Dean stuck his phone into the holder and accepted the call. At once Sam and Eileen’s excited faces filled the screen.

“Hey, let me just pull over so I can talk.” Dean said.

“That’s fine, we just wanted to see Claire and say hi.” Sam said with a huge grin. “We can’t wait to see her!”

“Yeah...about that...we might have hit a slight speed bump.” Dean said as he pulled the impala over and glanced down at the screen. “Claire’s not here.” he said, signing for Eileen at the same time.

What? Where’s Claire? I thought you were picking her up today. Eileen signed.

“Oh I was but she had other ideas.” Dean said.

Where is she?

“Well she’s with her dad, just not the right one.” Dean said. Both Sam and Eileen looked confused for a moment before it seemed to dawn on them.

“She’s with Cas? How the hell did that happen?”

“Ask this genius right here.” Dean said, picking up the phone and spinning it around so Jack could wave at the screen. “Sammy, we got a Parent Trap situation going on.”

“Holy crap! Is that Jack? Wow kid, you grew up! Wait, don’t the twins have to be identical for the parent trap to work?”

“Don’t even get me started on that. I’ve already called both of them morons.”

“Hi Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen!” Jack both said and signed.

“You know how to sign?” Dean asked him.

“Yeah, dad taught me.” Jack said before looking back at the screen. “Uncle Gabriel has told me so much about you two. It’s so cool to finally meet you!”

“You too kid, I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.” Sam said. “So you’re with Dean and Claire is with Cas...that’s interesting.”

“It’s not ‘interesting’ Sammy, it’s a pain in the ass.” Dean said bringing the phone back to him. “I’m now driving Jack back to DC so I can grab my moron daughter and ground her until she’s college age.”

And see Cas for the first time in over a decade. Are you nervous? Eileen asked.

Why would I be nervous? Dean shot back.

Obvious reasons. You and Cas came up with this cockamamie idea so you wouldn’t have to see each other. You only did that because you’d definitely launch yourself at Cas at the first opportunity.

Don’t start that again Eileen, you know why me and Cas didn’t work out and I really wish you and Sam wouldn’t gossip about it so much.

“We don’t gossip!” Sam said.

“You do and you know you do!” Dean shot back, completely unaware that Jack was texting someone at the same moment. A huge, shit eating grin plastered on his face.

In times of crisis, Gabriel Novak wasn’t normal who most people would have turned to but Cas was short on options. After driving Claire back to his house, Cas called Gabriel in a mild panic. Sadly, by the time Gabriel actually turned up, that mild panic had increased by a fair amount.

“And we’re hiding in your bedroom while the daughter you haven’t seen in over twelve years makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because…” Gabriel asked, surveying the sight in front of him. Namely Cas, clearly having a ‘moment’.

"Because Dean Winchester is currently driving to my house. I’m sorry Gabriel but I can’t handle this right now.” Cas said. “I haven’t seen him in over a decade and now he’s driving halfway across the country to swap our kids back!”

“Cas, I think you need to calm down or have a drink. Maybe a few drinks." Gabriel said as Cas shot him the crazy eyes. “Just a suggestion.”

“I don’t think I’m emotionally intelligent enough for this! The man drives me crazy! If he didn’t drive me that insane then I’d still be married to him!” Cas cried as he started to pull shirts out his drawer. “Do I look emotionally stable enough for this Gabriel? We decided upon this arrangement so we wouldn’t have to see each other again because if we did I’d do something stupid like throw myself at him because the man makes me crazy. Seriously Gabriel, have you ever seen me like this?”

“Well…”

“Actually don’t answer that.” Cas said, giving up on finding a shirt and opening up his walk-in closest. Maybe he could just hide in there and leave the whole thing to Gabriel. Then again Gabriel lacked the emotional maturity to handle something like this. Maybe he could leave the whole thing up to Claire.

“No. Castiel, get out the damn closet and see your ex-husband like a big boy.” Gabriel said because of course Gabriel knew exactly what Cas was thinking. It was at that point that Claire strolled into the room holding a sandwich, stopping when she saw Cas stood in his closet holding out two nearly identical sweaters.

"Um, Cas...Dad? Are you spiralling right now?"

"No, why? Does it look like I'm spiralling?" Cas asked, walking out towards Claire. Gabriel opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t answer that Gabriel.”

"Well, yeah. You look like Dad does whenever he gets drunk and hears Since I've Been Loving You then cries while watching cowboy movies thinking that I don't know what he's doing." Claire said bluntly.

"Huh, that was our wedding song." Cas said before walking back into his closet. "Wait." He said, sticking his head out the door. "Does your father do that a lot? Not that I care, it’s just...I’m-"

“Spiralling? Interested in what Dean Winchester has been up to for the past twelve years? Clearly not emotionally intelligent enough to handle all this right now so you’re hiding in a closet like a child?” Gabriel intoned.

"Yep, exactly like dad when he watches cowboy movies." Claire said to Gabriel. “He does it like once a month. It's cool though. I just bike over to Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen's house. They have cable and Aunt Eileen is teaching me how to sign curse words." Claire said with a shrug. "Cas...dad...why are you spiralling?"

“He’s emotional unintelligent.” Gabriel said while Cas just stood there, still holding the damn sweaters.

“I don’t know what that means.” Claire replied. “Anyway, I just spoke to my dad and they’re stopping for coffee. He said they’ll be here in four hours or so.”

“There you go, you’ve got four whole hours to get a grip.” Gabriel said. “Hey Claire, you gonna eat the rest of that sandwich?”

“Knock yourself out.” Claire said handing over the rest of her sandwich.

“I like this kid, she’s cool. Huh, you make your PB&J sandwiches just like Jack." Gabriel said looking down at the sandwich. "Jelly between two layers of peanut butter..." He added looking over at Cas.

"Yeah, that's how dad always made them." Claire said.

“How bizarre.” Gabriel said wiggling his eyebrows.

“How bizarre.” Claire intoned. Gabriel laughed out loud and high fived her with his sandwich free hand.

“Claire...did your dad say anything else? Does he seem annoyed?” Cas asked before Gabriel could make a PB&J comment.

“Yeah but that’s just because Jack did the ‘puppy eyes’ thing and changed the station to the Billboard Hot 100. I don’t know how Jack does it but he’s gotta teach me that, I’ll get away with so much in the future.”

“Right...did he mention anything else?”

“He wants to know if Dean said anything about him.” Gabriel said, straight to the point like always.

“Oh! No, not really...he stammered out a load of nonsense like always then begged Jack to change the station because Justin Bieber started playing and Bieber creeps dad for reasons I don’t understand.” Claire said with a shrug. “Though Jack said that when he was talking to Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen he mentioned that they gossip about the two of you all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dad was signing it to Aunt Eileen. I didn’t know Jack knew sign language.”

“I taught him when he was little.” Cas said. Cas had learnt to sign when he’d met Eileen, it just felt natural to teach Jack.

“I mean, he’s right. Uncle Sam talks about you all the time when I’m there. Not so much in front of dad ‘cause he gets real weird about it.” Claire said. “Jack said something about dad not wanting to see you so he wouldn’t do something stupid. He’s probably right, dad does stupid things all the time.”

“Well well well, who does that sound like.” Gabriel said, shooting a very pointed look at Cas. “Claire, kiddo, why don’t we leave your dad to freak out in the closet and make him some calming tea? Or maybe grab a bottle of tequila?”

“Sure.” Claire said before turning back to Cas. “Dad, it’s gonna be fine. I think my dad is excited to see you. If that helps.” she said with a small smile. Cas smiled back because it didn’t matter how much Dean drove him crazy or how badly his was currently handling the situation. What mattered was that Cas was excited to see Dean too.

Now all he needed to do was pick out a sweater.

#deancas parent trap #deancas fic #destiel fic #ficlet #deancas #destiel #I did not expect this to blow up like this #if i have missed anyone off the tag list please send a message #or if you want to be included please let me know #wanderingcas #tagging you because part one blew up thanks to you #i should be working on other stuff #but here we are #also i literally just noticed typos #i can't fucking spell or proofread to save my goddamn life

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Part Four and Conclusion)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front Introduction and Part One Part Two Part Three

PART FOUR: Thematic Problems

For all that portions of the Western fandom look at the MLA and see Evil Quirk Eugenicists and Hypocritical Ultra-Rich, they had legitimate complaints, and their goals, while overly radical if taken to their logical extremes—see Geten[51]—still offer a way to address a huge number of the problems this society faces. Locking them up and throwing away the key is shutting off one of the most prominent angles on addressing those issues. Consider:

The Problem of Heroics

Quirk-based prejudice is real, and a huge amount of it is based in the hero/villain dichotomy. This isn’t surprising; when you set up a group of people as “heroes,” it follows logically, linguistically, naturally that the people they fight must be villains. Villains are bad, are evil, are black-and-white figures with no motivation worth considering. Toss them in jail; who cares? They earned being in there with their Bad Actions. But that kind of thinking is insidious—it spreads.

If someone looks like a villain, if someone has a bad quirk, they may well be a Bad Seed. And if they aren’t, well, the responsibility is on them to rise above that prejudice, to become better than the people around them think they can be—but no one asks the people around them to maybe stop being so damn prejudicial all the time.

A horrifyingly stark example shows up in Chapter 310, in which a woman is being attacked by a group of three men for no reason save that they think she looks like a villain, so they assume she must be a villain. Her obvious villain trait? She’s a heteromorph—unusually tall, with a vulpine face. That’s it. She’s not dressed in a threatening or antisocial style; she’s not aggressive or angry. She’s just a heteromorph who didn’t go to a shelter right away because she thought things would calm down if she waited it out.

Love Midoriya following this up with, “I bet they were just scared too.” Way to chase an aggression with a micro-aggression there, hero. (Chapter 310)

Of course, tensions are running high right now, higher than would ever be the case under normal circumstances, but even in “normal circumstances,” this uncomfortable bias persists. Consider Class 1-A’s Shoji: Shoji wears a mask because he's a gentle soul who doesn’t want to scare small children, but maybe instead, people should be teaching their kids not to judge by appearances? Then maybe their kids wouldn’t grow up to be the kinds of people who attack others for looking a little scary and not going to sufficient pains to hide it?

As far as bad quirks go, meanwhile, Shinsou is the classic example on the hero side. He was told by classmates, laughingly, that he had a good quirk for a villain; he carries himself at all times like he’s got something to prove. I suspect the only reason he’s at U.A. and not running with the League of Villains is a supportive home life,[52] but either way, people are all too ready to apply a villain label to him based on an ability that was nothing but genetic lottery, and that’s because the existence of heroes defines itself by the existence of villains.

Of course, the otherization of villains and people-who-kind-of-seem-like-they-might-be-villains is only part of the problem. The other and frankly larger issue is the effect that limiting quirk use to heroes-only has on the cultural mindset—heroes, villains, and civilians alike.

Japan in real life fosters a sense of community support so profound that children as young as four can be sent on small errands[53] around the neighborhood, safe in the knowledge that if they need help, they will be able to get that help. It’s far more common for young children to walk or take public transit to school than it is in the U.S. Another example is the country’s enthusiastic embrace of publicly available AED machines, complete with easy-to-understand printed and audio instructions about how to use them on people suffering heart attacks, a movement that has saved the lives of many who might not have otherwise survived long enough for an ambulance to arrive.

In My Hero Academia’s Japan, though?

You wind up with people who don't even particularly want to become heroes enrolling in hero schools anyway because it's the only way they can imagine contributing to society. Uraraka and Gran Torino are obvious examples—Uraraka becoming a hero less because she felt a calling to and more because it seemed like the best way to ameliorate her family’s hardscrabble lot in life; Torino getting a hero license not because he cared about being a hero at all, but because he was in on the One For All situation and needed to be able to use his quirk freely to help fight that secret war.

An even more telling case is that of the main character himself. Midoriya desperately wanted to “save” people, and from all the evidence we have in the early manga, as far as he was concerned, the only way for him to do that was to become a hero. He never even considered e.g. signing up for any volunteer programs around his neighborhood or joining the police. It’s like he never even considered the possibility of helping people via other channels.

And this is a consistent issue! People who don't think that they can become heroes train themselves (and are trained by society) into believing that they are powerless, that it isn’t their responsibility to help when they see trouble, leading to things like Shimura Tenko's “long walk,” where countless people look at a child of five, bloody and alone, and then make the conscious decision to look away, because “a hero will help.”

Hell, it even spills over onto actual heroes, who in the first chapter stand around like chumps waiting for “someone with a better quirk” to come and do something about the sludge villain, because they don’t have the perfect quirk to solve the problem themselves, so they don’t even try.

Of course, even if they did try, it might not be welcomed. Consider cases where people wanted to do good, like Gentle Criminal or Vigilantes' Koichi, but had their road to heroism blocked—this led them to villainy or vigilantism, which in turn can lead to arrest and possible prison time, with all the attendant stigma.

Restricting quirk use to heroes-only has impacts beyond just how it distorts people’s desire to help, too. Evidence in the manga suggests that some people feel a stronger biological drive to use their quirks than others. What options do those people have, then, if their quirks—or their personalities—don’t seem naturally cut out for heroism?

In Tamaki Amajiki’s flashback in Chapter 140, a teacher tells his class, “People make fine use of their quirks at any number of jobs. Being a hero’s not the only option. How will you be useful to society in the future? That’s what we’re here to explore in quirk training.” This is the scene in the manga that most explicitly tells us that other avenues for quirk use exist, but we’re never once shown what those avenues might be. At best, this suggests that those avenues are drastically limited (e.g. only available to those whose quirks are deemed “useful to society”) and/or poorly explained to people in-universe—else why would Uraraka have chosen heroism despite her lack of interest in it if she could have just gotten some kind of job license for her quirk? At worst, it’s an example of Horikoshi throwing in a line that contradicts the surrounding canon. Either way, we’re left with people who feel a strong drive to use their quirks being pressured into heroism or straying into villainy for lack of other acceptable outlets.

All of these issues could be mitigated by less draconian restrictions on quirks—which Destro's followers are the only characters in the manga we've actively seen pushing for, rather than just heard about second-hand—and by not using an ideologically charged word like “heroes” to describe a glorified independent police force. Allowing people to freely use their quirks[54] means fewer people being pushed into a heroics job they're unsuited for, means fewer people being pushed into villainy, means a more rounded view on how quirks can be used, leading to less quirk-based prejudice and less—well, let’s talk some about false dichotomies.

All For Nothing, Nothing For All

Shigaraki stands as a fundamental accusation of the way the hero/civilian dynamic exacerbates the Bystander Effect, making people think of themselves as powerless, while at the same time putting untenable pressure on heroes to be perfect victory machines who don't experience pain or doubt or weakness. He further attests that this dynamic pushes out people who don't fit either category—victim or hero—making them villains. This is one of the fundamental thematic conflicts of the series—is one hero enough? Are heroes themselves enough? What are heroes, what do they fight, and what should they be fighting? Who deserves to be “saved” and what does it mean, anyway, to “save” someone? What happens to the people who aren’t saved? How will the world grapple with the consequences, the resentment, that stem from that failure?

In his work Underground, written to grapple with and criticize the way Japanese media covered the sarin gas attacks, author Murakami Haruki talked about the response to the incident being to call the members of Aum Shinrikyo evil, insane, diseased, other. They were spoken of as a monstrous fringe that could not have been predicted, about which nothing could have been done, rather than examined as bright, well-educated young people who by all accounts ought to have had good futures ahead of them but instead spiraled down into a doomsday cult. Murakami asserted that, because the Japanese public was unwilling to ask how and why that happened, was unwilling to self-examine, the country was locking itself into a repeating cycle. Memorably, he wrote, “Most Japanese seem ready to pack up the whole incident in a trunk labeled THINGS OVER AND DONE WITH,” to describe this resolute incuriosity, the strong aversion to looking into the face of evil and trying to find the humanity within it.

In this post and its follow-up, tumblr user @robotlesbianjavert discusses the problems that stem from that exact tendency as portrayed in My Hero Academia. She says, “Only making decisions that benefit the greater good is not the real solution that the narrative is rooting for. Not so long as it fails to recognize and address the needs of the victims that still come of it.” Hero Society will never stop creating its own villains so long as, every time it fails people, it does nothing but shrug and write off the victims as unavoidable, inevitable sacrifices for the greater good.

I would also like to highlight her point—which I hope she one day posts her own full essay on—about the way All For One and One For All serve as two extreme poles of equally unsustainable visions for society. This dynamic is all over the manga.

There are the characters of AFO and his younger brother themselves, each forever locked in battle to prove the correctness of his own way of thinking, and forever talking past the other even when they’re face to face.

There’s the contrast of heroes, giving their all to help strangers even when it hurts the people they love, with villains, giving their all to help the people they love even when it hurts strangers.

The flaws in the One For All model can be seen in the multilayered ravages it inflicted on All Might physically, emotionally, and socially. Thus, one for all is not always ideal.

The strengths of the All For One model can be seen in a team of heroes and police combining their efforts and will to help one single person—Eri. Nighteye even highlights this with his speech about everyone’s efforts coalescing into Midoriya and helping him to “twist fate.” Thus, all for one is not always about selfishness.

Once you start looking for it, this duality shows up everywhere, and I think—I hope—it’s an angle Horikoshi is conscious of. The obvious solution is that the extremes of this society are all undesirable—that total selflessness and total selfishness are equally unsustainable, and both are, ultimately, damaging. A more holistic approach is needed, yet if a holistic approach is what the manga ultimately proves to be seeking, it makes the mass arrest of the PLF particularly problematic, if it’s allowed to stand unchallenged. You cannot just choose not to see 115,000 dissatisfied people—some way or another, you have to reckon with them, and if you don’t do it in a way that actually helps them address whatever their core problem is, you’re just setting yourself up for more of the same further down the line.

The MLA believed that they were fighting for a just cause, for freedom, for the future. They absolutely had issues—Geten’s words indicate that much—but they were issues that would have been much better addressed by actually challenging them openly, rather than suppressing them. If they couldn’t get society to agree right away that the use of one’s quirk should be as unregulated as the use of one’s hands, maybe they would have accepted a tiered license approach to quirk use as a good starting compromise. If they wanted totally unhindered quirk use, such that people could murder with impunity? Well, that would never have gotten past the House of Representatives, but maybe a bill declaring that crimes committed by quirks should be treated no differently than crimes committed via any other means would have. A weeklong debate on the Diet floor would have stood a much greater chance of e.g. addressing the needs of the quirkless than the MLA alone would have bothered with.

The MLA didn’t get to have that kind of debate. Instead, they ran headfirst into Shigaraki Tomura, who made them far more dangerous. And yet… For all that Shigaraki twisted them, he didn’t change them so much that Re-Destro couldn’t still see the light of his ideals within them. Furthermore, even though the PLF didn’t win the battle we call the War Arc, it may be that they’re well on their way to winning the actual war.

“The Seeds Are Already Sown”

So what did the PLF actually want? Well, we have a few sources on that—Shigaraki’s desire to destroy “everything,” the cloned Re-Destro’s vision of liberation through “order without order,” and so forth. But a very instructive place to look is Hawks’ doomsaying in Chapter 258. While the PLF is a bit too scattered or imprisoned to appreciate it, a shocking number of the things Hawks laid out for the audience have actually come about, even if they didn’t happen exactly as the PLF planned. Consider:

Bring down the status quo by annihilating all heroes. Heroes—a number of whom died the day of the raid—are retiring in mass numbers. As the manga describes it, they are “being put through a sieve.” They certainly haven’t all been annihilated, but the ones remaining are having to do the work with little in the way of thanks or glory—the false heroes Stain spoke of have left the table.

They plan to attack all major cities at once throughout the nation. Gigantomachia stampeded over more than twenty cities in the space of less than an hour. A bunch of them were surely not major cities, but all the same, it was a rampage that caught the heroes almost completely off-guard (because they were all tied up arresting the PLF and didn’t think Machia would be an issue), leading to massive collateral damage and unspeakable loss of life.

With society brought to a lawless standstill… Thanks to AFO’s prison breaks, a bunch of villains are now out there raising hell to their hearts’ content, and there aren’t enough heroes around to always respond in a timely fashion. They’re having to open up schools as shelter zones, evacuating entire cities, which the common people respond to predictably poorly, leading to groups of people who were not previously villainous deciding to take the law into their own hands.

…Re-Destro and the Hearts & Minds Party will storm the political world. In Chapter 297, the less openly fascist guard worries that the remaining factions of the HMP[55] will still be stirring up trouble on the political front, especially given the enormous wave of brand-new complaints about human rights violations that he doubtlessly figured were incoming.

They will distribute weapons and extol the virtues of self-defense, calling it true freedom. Whether Detnerat picked up the pace of its black-market support goods sales, bankrolled Giran doing the same, or some other groups—yakuza, perhaps—stepped up, we already know that there are weapons and support goods circulating throughout society, and that people are using them for self-defense.

These people will throw the world into chaos and enthrone Shigaraki atop the rubble. The second coming of All For One. Far more so than anyone in the PLF would have wanted, this one has come horribly true with the AFO vestige’s possession of Shigaraki.[56]

While it is perhaps karmic that the PLF is in no position to enjoy the fruits of their villainous efforts, it’s striking how much of what they wanted has come about anyway. And how much of this can really be undone or wound back? Complete societal breakdown isn’t the kind of genie you can easily rebottle, and this, I think, is particularly illustrated by the civilians Yo and Tatami encounter in Chapter 307.

I’d like to wind this essay down by zooming in on that encounter somewhat.

The group of people the Ketsubutsu pair encounter in 307 are not nice, but neither are they violent. Having, like so many others, lost faith in heroes to protect them, they want only to protect their hometown and for heroes to leave them be. They’ve fended off a few small-time villain attacks and are bluntly uninterested in cooperating with condescending heroes (an impression Yo is not helping to mitigate) who have done nothing but disappoint them.

The spokesman in particular feels to me like someone who’s suffered a significant personal loss. The shadow over his eyes here is telling. (Chapter 307)

When Muscular shows up, they are 100% ready to put their lives where their mouths are. They are all in the process of charging outside, first to stop their town from suffering more damage, then to back up a hero kid they just got done telling to buzz off. And you know? It’s possible—probable, even!—that Muscular would have murdered every last one of them, and them charging in to fight him would have led to a horrific tragedy, one more to stack atop the pile.

And yet, while the narrative doesn’t allow them to actually assist,[57] neither does it entirely rebuke them, in the end. When all is said and done, the civilians agree to hear Tatami and Yo out, and they help Tatami get Yo inside for medical attention. The leader is a little abashed, but he doesn’t bow his head and admit to being wrong; his group doesn’t meekly submit to being herded to shelter. And that’s because the narrative is—wisely—unwilling to say that they’re wrong.

After all, how could it?

Midoriya Izuku and the jaded civilian's instincts. (Chapters 1 and 307)

For a last comparison, remember that in the first chapter, Midoriya Izuku—quirkless, untrained Midoriya Izuku—dove into a fight he had no way of winning, no way of even affecting. All he was doing was endangering himself and making the sludge villain even harder to target. Still, All Might and the narrative alike praised him for his action, because it was driven by a “desire to save.” In Chapter 307, a group of undertrained civilians witnesses a high school boy being attacked by the highest tier of villain their society knows, a Tartarus escapee, a gleeful and unrepentant serial killer with a devastatingly powerful quirk. Their response is to gather up their weapons and numbers and dive in to try and help. Regardless of the weakness of their quirks, regardless of their lack of training, regardless of the danger to their lives, their instinct is the same as Midoriya’s was back then—“the desire to save.”

How could the narrative possibly tell us that they're wrong?

And if they aren’t wrong, this group of people who are so very close to the vision the PLF had for the world after their revolution, the narrative simply cannot expect to retain the slightest hint of credibility if it tries to tell us that the PLF are worth nothing more than an authorial handwave and the slamming of a cell door.

Conclusion

What we are seeing in the manga now is a society that is fumbling towards a new way. It isn’t perfect; it has a lot of wrinkles to iron out. Yet in some ways, if this is a society that has gone back in time, it is also a society that has a chance to chart a different path forward than it did before, a more inclusive path, a more balanced one. Heroes can still exist in the same way that surgeons and emergency responders exist, but that doesn't mean people throw their first aid kits in the garbage.

People protest that untrained civilians using their quirks leads to collateral damage, and that's true. The same would be true, however, if a nation that relied solely on public transit suddenly faced the total breakdown of that system and found that, if they wanted to get anywhere farther than walking distance, they had to get behind the wheel of a car and drive there themselves with no previous experience handling a motor vehicle. With some basic training, or perhaps a test and associated license that is as ubiquitous as a driver's license, how much of the collateral damage caused by civilians fighting might be reduced? How might people feel more empowered to act when necessary?

I very much want to see that future in the manga. It will feel terribly bitter, however, if the people who always believed in that future the most don’t get to see it themselves.

Bit characters are bit characters, I know. Terrorists in fiction don’t typically get to walk away scot-free. But numbers aren’t just numbers, even in fiction, even when they’re villains. If all Horikoshi wanted was a sufficiently large, scary threat to throw his heroes up against, he should have stuck with mindless Noumu or maniacal robots. He didn’t. He chose to make that threat human. He cannot now choose to dehumanize the threat, just because those humans are no longer convenient to his story.

Or at least, he can’t make me look at his doing so as anything other than appalling—ahistorical, absurd, and unsustainable.

Come back next time for sources and further reading.

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

[51] And yes, as always, I do think that Geten-whose-name-means-Apocrypha is a radical, not a reliable barometer for the MLA norm.

[52] Contrasting Toga, the standard-bearer for bad quirks on the villain side.

[53] We don’t know if that practice—so widespread it became the subject of a long-running TV program—survived the Advent and raised crime rate, but if it didn’t, that only further suggests that kids wandering the streets unattended are probably in need of assistance.

[54] Within the same bounds other freedoms exist, e.g. they’re not unduly burdening others.

[55] Small political parties in Japan merge and fragment all the time, particularly in times of crisis, so it’s not surprising that the HMP has some sub-groups. I am somewhat surprised that these factions themselves weren’t dissolved as well, given the heavy-handedness on display everywhere else. This is about the only thing that suggests that the arrests might not be as totally over-the-top as is otherwise implied, though really, if that’s the case, it just brings us back to the problem of all the people who probably slipped the net if the HPSC did opt to undercompensate.

[56] Another enormous thematic issue I have with tossing away the PLF like this is that it renders Shigaraki and the League’s hard-fought victories in My Villain Academia all but meaningless—worse than meaningless, since settling into the villa instead of staying on the run or bunking up with Ujiko wound up losing them Twice—but that’s more a problem with the writing of Shigaraki’s arc than the themes of the series as a whole. Certainly, fumbling Shigaraki’s arc will have a nigh-incomparable impact on the themes of the series as a whole, but there’s time to salvage his situation yet, so I’m crossing my fingers and reserving judgement on that for now.

[57] It should have.

#bnha analysis #bnha meta #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #plf arrests #stillness has salt

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 4 years

Text

The Interview: Part One

Title: The Interview - A Luke x Reader One Shot

Words: 3,177

Summary: Y/N gets to interview Sunset Curve when they finally go on tour near where she lives.

TW: None

Author’s notes: Ok… the interview part is kind of inspired by a glorious evening when myself and a friend got to interview our favourite band just before a gig. I was much clumsier that Y/N and made a complete fool of myself on more than one occasion, but it seemed to have worked because they loved the interview – or so they told us.

I hope you like it. I’m not 100% with it, but didn’t want to drag it out for the hell of it. This is set in the UK, so spellings may be a little different.

(credit @nikascott)

The first time you heard Now or Never, you knew there was something special about Sunset Curve. Their lyrics and the beats of their pop rock tracks made you feel amazing and you couldn’t help but dance every time you heard them.

You spent all your time online anyway, so you decided to set up a Sunset Curve fan account. You didn’t expect much to come out of it due to bein in the UK while they were based in the US. But you religiously shared photos of the guys, wrote funny articles about them after speaking to people who’d been to their shows. Shared credited photos from gigs which soon got you respect from the fans and you began to build up a following.

You managed to fit running the account single handed, fitting it in between being at university studying for your degree in media and working part time. You’re not in it for the recognition, you just want to show your appreciation for a band you love.

Your best friend, Carrie, doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how you can spend so much time expelling energy on four guys you’re never going to meet, but she indulges you because you also run one for her band, Dirty Candi. Your friend and the rest of her group are insanely talented, and even though they’re not a genre you tend to listen to, you support them because that’s what friends do.

It’s been a year since you’d first heard Now or Never and since you set up the account. You’ve amassed over ten thousand followers, most of whom are also in the UK, when you get your first band member follow. Bobby Wilson, the rhythm guitarist likes a post you shared about him and promptly follows you. You get constant likes from him and sometimes the odd comment. Your followers go insane but you manage to keep calm, ish.

The second follow is Alex, the drummer. This time you do go a bit crazy, because he’s adorable and you can’t help be a little in love with him.

It takes less than a day after Alex’s follow before the bassist, Reggie to follow you and send your notifications into overdrive by commenting on a ton of posts. You scream into a pillow on your bed because it’s 2 a.m. and you don’t want to wake Carrie up.

The one follow you’re waiting for doesn’t come. Luke Patterson, the lead singer and your favourite member hasn’t joined his bandmates, and while you never expected it, you’re more than a little upset by the fact.

“Honey, he’s like a Rockstar. He’s got more important things to do than follow fan accounts online.” Carrie was right, but it still stung a bit.

“I know, but…”

“Y/N, sweetie. I adore you, but you need to let it go. I don’t want you working yourself up over this, please. Why don’t we have a girlie night, just the two of us? We’ll watch cheesy films, eat junk food, and sing bad karaoke. No phones.”

“I love you, do you know that?” I told her.

“How could you not?” She flicked her pastel pink hair over her shoulder with a laugh before going to prepare snacks while I got the lounge ready for an evening of lazing around.

:: ::

Halfway through The Greatest Showman, Carrie falls asleep, so after you cover her over with a blanket, you pull your phone out of the box she hid it in and scroll through social media.

|Hey, @SunsetCurveFansUK did you see this??

Included in the message is a link to the official Sunset Curve account. You click on it and there’s a note from the band. Announcing a UK tour. You begin to hyperventilate as you try and prevent yourself from screaming out loud, but it doesn’t work and you let out a loud squeak, waking Carrie up.

“What’s wrong? Y/N, are you okay?” She sounds worried, so you shove your phone at her, unable to speak. “Oh, wow. This is cool. Start saving because I know you’re gonna want to go to every show.”

“Yes, yes I will.” Getting to your feet, you do a crazy dance around the small lounge of your apartment, making Carrie laugh. You only realise at the last minute that she’s recording you. “Don’t you dare post that online.” You warn her.

“Too late, sweetie. It’s already on my story and I tagged the band.”

“I hate you. Worst friend ever, I think I’ll advertise for a new one.” You grumble, making her laugh as you settle down on the couch to catch up on everything you’ve missed online.

:: ::

When tickets go on sale, you’re disappointed they guys are only doing four dates in the UK, but you buy yourself a ticket to all of them. Sadly, they don’t offer up any VIP tickets because they’re running contests for fans to win them for each show. Their tour manager, Trevor – who also happens to Bobby’s dad – has messaged your account asking if you’d like the opportunity to interview the band as a thank you for all the work you’d put into promoting them.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You’re gonna meet the band, your favourite band.” Carrie is grinning, happy for you as you stare at the message on your phone screen in disbelief. “Are you going to reply?”

“I… er… what is going on?” You stare over at your best friend who’s grinning widely at you. “This is a joke, right? Someone’s pulling the ultimate prank on me, aren’t they?”

“Y/N, look. For over a year, you’ve been pimping out those guys like crazy. You’ve increased their fan base here, which has made them want to tour here, and now they’re offering you this amazing opportunity. Take it and run with it, You deserve it.”

At her words, you reopen the message and reply to Trevor, saying you’d be honoured to do the interview. Then you freak out.

:: ::

The night of the first show and you’re hovering outside the venue waiting for Trevor to come and meet you once the guys finish their sound check. You can faintly hear the strains of Now or Never, and you get goosebumps. Thankful you’re nowhere near where the queue to get in is growing longer and longer, you start to pace outside the door. It suddenly opens outwards, making you jump, and Trevor’s head appears before behind it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi.” You hold out a hand for him to shake, surprising him and yourself with how composed your voice sounds. He shakes your hand and then motions for you to enter the venue.

“Great to meet you. The guys all love your account.”

“That’s amazing to hear.” You make conversation as you follow Trevor through a maze of narrow corridors.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you approach a closed door. You can’t help but hesitate, making him look back at you in worry. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all just a bit… overwhelming.”

“Look, they’re great guys, as normal as they come. There’s no need to feel nervous around them.” He smiles at you and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter. “Guys, this is Y/N from the UK fan account. Go easy on her, okay?” Once you’re fully inside the room, Trevor leaves and closes the door behind you.

“Hey,” Reggie speaks first as they all stand up. You shake hands and instantly feel at ease. “We all love your account, it’s very honest.” He’s clearly referring to your review of their last album where you openly said you weren’t a huge fan of a couple of the songs. It was an integrity you were determined to have on the account. You didn’t want to be seen as the type to blow smoke up their asses just because you were a fan.

“Thanks. I love running it. It keeps me busy and out of trouble, apparently.” You laugh as you pull a fold-up tripod out of your bag and set it up to record the guys for your account. “Do you mind if I film the interview?”

“Go ahead.” Alex waves his hand for you to continue. Once you’re set up, you pull out your journal with your questions written in.

“Hey, Luke. That looks like your journal.” Bobby comments, making the lead singer smile. So far, he hasn’t said much and it’s putting you on edge. Especially as he’s the only band member who hasn’t followed your account. Maybe he hates what you’ve done online. Trying to ignore the doubt, you press record on the video and start to ask the questions.

“My final two questions were submitted as part of a contest I put out to my followers. First up from Ellie is ‘if you could give the others a tattoo, what would it be and where?” As you’d hoped, the response to this question is all four of them bursting into laughter as Reggie’s face lights up.

“I pick Luke and would definitely get my face across his back.” You laugh at his enthusiasm. “Maybe if I get him drunk enough, I could at least get my name somewhere.

“Dude, there is no way I will ever have your name, any of your names, tattooed on me.” Luke grinned at them. “I’d probably get Bobby a dick, on his forehead. Just because it would be hilarious.”

You know Bobby is known as a bit of a womaniser and you’ve heard rumblings in the fandom that he’s slept with fans after shows, but you keep quiet as the guys laugh. Bobby picks a rainbow for Alex and Alex picks a cowboy hat for Reggie.

“Okay, the final question is from Sarah and her son Henry. ‘If the zombie apocalypse hit, who would be the first to die.”

“Reggie.” Three out of the four spoke in unison making the bassist pout and you laugh.

“But, we’d try our best to save him.” Alex pipes up, smiling at his friend. “We’d at least try to stick together, but if it’s a choice between me and them, I’m picking me every time.”

“That’s me finished,” you stop the recording. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to sit with me. I really appreciate it.”

All four guys reassure you it’s been their pleasure and that they enjoyed the interview which pleases you as it took you almost six weeks to think of questions that they hadn’t been asked hundreds of times before.

“I’ll leave you guys to get ready for the show. I need a drink.” You stand after packing everything away and move toward the door to leave.

“Hey, Y/N.” Reggie’s voice calling your name makes you turn back to face them. “We put together a little goodie bag of merch for you as a thank you for all the work you’ve done in helping promote us here in the UK.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” You’re blown away and speechless. “I do it because I enjoy it.”

“And it keeps you out of trouble?” Bobby winks at you. Unsure how to react, you smile a little, positive it looks more like a grimace. You take the overflowing bag and clutch it in your hand.

“Hey, we need a selfie.” Alex says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You suddenly find yourself between him and Luke, Alex’s arm slung over your shoulder and Luke’s hand resting on your waist. All you can feel is the head from his hand as you look at the camera Alex is holding out in front of you. Once he’s done, you take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of Luke before stepping away.

Another round of thank yous and you leave the room and close the door behind you. Then realise you have no idea which way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” Luke’s voice makes you jump.

“Yeah, I just can’t remember the way out.” You’re embarrassed to admit, but you have to meet up with Carrie in the queue. She’d finally agreed to come to at least one of the shows with you, but only one.

“It’s a bit of a maze, here’ I’ll show you the way.” Luke falls into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space.

“Thanks, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s no problem, I’m on a drink run for the guys anyway, and the bar’s this way.” He shrugged, his shoulder once again brushing against yours.

“Well, thanks again. And for doing the interview, I hope it wasn’t too much of a chore.”

“Nah, it was fun. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what it was gonna be like at first, but you had some great questions.”

Silence fell and you start to feel awkward walking through the venue with a guy you’d crushed on from afar for well over a year. Eventually, the maze of corridors opened out into an area you recognised.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, at the show I mean.” You feel like a complete idiot.

“Yeah, it should be a great show.” You give Luke a small wave and make your way towards the door where a member of the security gets ready to let you out.

“Y/N?” Luke calls out. You turn to look at him. “Do you want a drink?”

Stunned, you kind of freeze to the spot you’re standing in. After a moment, Luke mumbles something and turns to walk away.

“That would be great.” You call out, knowing Carrie would kill you if you said no. You return to Luke’s side and follow him into the space that would soon be filled with fans. The stage was set up with their instruments and you can’t help the shiver of excitement that goes through you.

“Are you cold?” Luke asks.

“No, I just had a chill.” Before you finish speaking, he’s pulled off the flannel shirt he’s wearing and handing it to you. “Honestly, there’s no need. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, take the damn shirt. It’s cold in here and you’re in a tank top.” He insists with a laugh.

“God, you’re pushy.” You snap at him playfully as you take the shirt and slide it on. It’s still warm from him wearing it and you resist the urge to bury your nose in it.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Just a beer is fine.” You pull some money out of your purse, but he waves it away as he hands over a card to the bartender.

As you take a sip of cold beer, your phone chirps with Carrie’s ringtone.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” You pull your phone out as Luke asks the bar tender to take three of the bottles to the rest of the band. “Hello?”

“Where are you? The doors are opening soon.” Carrie’s voice is almost drown out by the noise around her.

“I’m just finishing up, I’ll be out soon.”

“Was Luke as dreamy as-”

“I’ll be out as soon as I can. Bye.” You cut her off, worried Luke will hear her question and shove your phone away again. “Sorry, my friend’s in the queue. I really should get out there.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You go to put your almost full bottle of beer on the bar. “Take that with you. You can’t waste good beer.” You laugh and slide the bottle into the sleeve of Luke’s shirt to hide it from the security staff as the two of you walk over to the door. “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The two of you lock eyes for a few minutes before you remember Carrie. “I… I better go. Break a leg tonight.”

Before he can answer, you’re outside with the door slamming closed behind you. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as you walk around the building to find Carrie.

:: ::

“Where did that come from?” She asks, pointing to the shirt, as soon as you join her. You look around to make sure no one’s listening. You don’t want to be overheard.

“It’s Luke’s.” You whisper, laughing as her eyes widen in shock. Even more when you pull the bottle of beer out from the sleeve and take a long drink from it.

“When we get inside, you are telling me everything. But especially how you came out of an interview with the lead singer’s clothes on.”

Before you can answer, a cheer goes up near the front of the queue as the doors open and security begin letting the fans in.

Slowly, as tickets are checked, the queue moves forward and you’re finally at the front. The security guy recognises you and gives you a smile as he lets you and Carrie inside.

The first stop is the cloakroom so you can check in your bag and the goodie bag the guys gave you after the interview. Then Carrie drags you to the bar and starts pumping you for answers.

“How did the interview go? What took so long? Why did you come out wearing Luke’s shirt and carrying a beer?”

“Woah, slow down.” You order a couple of shots for the two of you from the bartender who served Luke earlier. He waves away your money, explaining you’ve been added to the bar tab the guys have running to your surprise and Carrie’s giggles. “The interview went really well. The guys responded so well to my questions and I took a selfie with them. Oh, shit. The photo’s on Alex’s phone.”

“Oh, really?” Carrie raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” You move away from the bar so no one can overhear you. When you’re certain you have some privacy, you fill her in on what happened after the interview ended.

“Holy shit, Y/N/ I think you’re in with a chance there.”

“Carrie, no. He’s a bonafide Rockstar, who lives like thousands of miles away. I’m a student from London. Don’t get carried away. He was just being friendly.”

“Oh, sure. Because all rockstars offer their shirts to fans and buy them a beer.” She looks at you, a weird look in her eye as she orders another round of drinks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Trevor the tour manager walking toward you.

“Hey, Y/N. I was asked to give you this.” He hands you a slip of paper before melting away through the crowd toward the stage.

“What is it?” Carrie askes as you unfold it. Written in the hardest writing you’ve ever had to decipher is,

Meet me backstage after the show? Luke.

You don’t know what to think, but Carrie crows like a damn rooster, attracting attention from other fans around you.

“Just being friendly, huh?” She hip bumps you, “I’m coming with you to the other shows, I need to see this unfold with my very own eyes.

Read Part Two here

#jatp #jatp fic #luke patterson #Luke x Reader #one shot #fanfiction #orginal character #bobby #reggie #ales #carrie #Mich writes fic

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organabanana · 3 years

Text

leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

#harlivy #harlivy fanfiction #harlivy fanfic #poison ivy #harley quinn #fic

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maybebrilliant · 3 years

Text

My ridiculous fandoms:

I know, multifandom much?!

I have a LOT, although I will post mostly AoS shit. (I don’t make things for all of these, don’t worry lmao, mostly I just spectate and sometimes reblog stuff.) Up to know I’ve put them all up in my bio, but I’ve decided only to do the top, say, three, otherwise it just gets wayyy too long. However, I’m putting it all here, so that anyone, if they feel so inclined, can see what shit I’m interested in.

I will also be putting a bunch of my favourite quotes from the shows there, because, well, I’m a total nerd xD.

Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

”With great responsibility comes...a ton of weird shit you are not prepared to deal with.”

“The steps you take don’t have to be big, they just need to take you in the right direction.”

“Sometimes, making a difference means being different.”

Star Trek: Discovery (sauce)

“You had me at unsanctioned mission...”

“Deal with me, universe, while I deal with her.”

And...(though this is not a real quote, exactly) Sauce Afirma Sauce Eterna. :)

Derry Girls

“If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”

“We got the gist. They ran out of spuds, everyone was raging.”

“Slainte, motherfuckers!”

Julie and the Phantoms

“Chill man, Street Dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

“I cried in a room for twenty-five years and didn’t get a single hug from either of you!”

“Oh. She said oh. That’s what you say if you get socks on your birthday, not when you’re invited to join the most epic band ever!”

Brigerton

“Having a nice face and pleasant hair is not an accomplishment. Do you know what is an accomplishment? Attending university! If I were a man, I could do that, you know.”

“You would actually have to be interesting for me to bother spying on you"

“All is fair in love and war but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight.”

Simon Snow series

“You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.”

“Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire. He's constantly drawing you in. And you're constantly stepping too close. And you know it's not good--that there is no good--that there's absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then... Well. Then you burn.”

“I'd cross every line for him. I'm in love with him. And he likes this better than fighting.”

Avatar the Last Airbender

“Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.”

“My first girlfriend turned into the moon.” “That’s rough buddy.”

“Why am I so bad at being good?”

Harry Potter

“It’s leviOsa, not levioSA!”

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

“Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.”

The Queen’s Gambit

"I Would Say It Is Much Easier To Play Chess Without The Burden Of An Adam's Apple."

"I'm Not Your Guardian Angel. I'm Not Here To Save You. Hell, I Can Barely Save Me."

“Again?”

Once Upon A Time

"That's How You Know You've Really Got A Home. 'Cause When You Leave It ...There's This Feeling You Can't Shake. You Just Miss It."

"Sometimes The Best Teacup Is Chipped."

"All Magic Comes With A Price."

The Good Place

“I’m just not a ‘new experience’ kind of guy. My comfort zone is basically like, that chair, and honestly? The arms are a little sharp.”

“What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.”

“We do nothing. We hope that our early successes make up for the embarrassing mess we’ve become. Like Facebook. Or America.”

Community

"We'll definitely be back next year. If not, it'll be because an asteroid has destroyed all human civilization. And that's canon."

"GAAYYY MARRIAAGEE!!"

“Our Captain was killed on duty tonight. Leaves behind two kids and a pregnant wife. So you’re missing a Batman DVD?”

Zoey’s Extraoridnary Playlist

“Who wants some freshly delivered, slightly cold, mediocre pizza?”

“Songs are all just an expression of our deepest wants and desires… Joy, pain, heartbreak, yearning, forgiveness, revenge. Good music can make you feel things you can’t express in words.”

“I just found out a guy I like is engaged, and I am either going totally nuts, or I suddenly can hear people’s innermost thoughts as big musical numbers.”

The Old Gaurd

“Depends on the century.”

“You're an incurable romantic...”

“SHIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!”

Merlin (BBC)

“Merlin should take some of the credit, turns out he’s not always entirely stupid.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” -Arthur | “No, I’m saying the belt is one hole shy away from perfection.”

Artemis Fowl

“I am the future queen of this world, at the very least. You may refer to me as Mistress Koboi for the next five minutes. After that you may refer to me as Aaaaarrrrgh, hold your throat, die screaming, and so on.”

“We lost the crickets,” she said. “Even you can’t make that sound tough.”

“I never tell anyone exactly how clever I am. They would be too scared.”

How To Train Your Dragon

“ Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile!”

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Toothless, what are you doing? We need her to LIKE us!”

The Dragon Prince

“I’m just a kid. I haven’t fought in any battles. I haven’t read many books of wisdom. I haven’t gone through the things that made my father the king he was. So I’ve decided that I don’t have to be the king my father was. My father made choices to keep fighting battles that started hundreds of years before he was born. To punish enemies for crimes their parents committed! I don’t want to be that kind of king.”

“The dragon prince is alive! And he’s really cute, by the way.”

“What? WHAAAAAAAT!”

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

“Would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?”

“A towel, [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy] says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.”

“For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen.”

“The Answer to the Great Question... Of Life, the Universe and Everything... Is... Forty-two,' said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.”

“Ford... you're turning into a penguin. Stop it.”

sorry for the five I couldn’t choose only 3

But there you have it, my insane, ridiculous, way-too-many fandoms. For anyone who cares. ;)

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Clone Trooper Rambles

Read along as I continue to skirt the line between imagination and insanity! Other parts here.

Faded

“Hey, Rex?” I asked, not looking away from my screen. I was neck-deep in finals, and I couldn’t risk taking my attention off of what I was doing.

Rex didn’t answer me.

“Rex?” I repeated, a bit louder this time. Surely, he was around there somewhere. My voice carried pretty well, so it was never much of a problem to call someone in from another part of the house.

When he still didn’t answer, my stomach tightened a bit. I kept working on my paper, but my mind was drifting further off topic. When was the last time I had seen Rex? When was the last time I had heard him? Or any of the troopers? I wanted to say it had been that day, but I couldn’t swear to it.

“Okay, deep breath,” I told myself. Talking aloud always helped calm me down, even if it did make me sound a little crazy. Then again, I was already interacting with groups of invisible clone troopers, so there we were.

The best way to handle it was to think logically, in the same steps I used every time. When was the last time I had actively watched The Clone Wars? It had been at least two weeks, maybe three with how crazy school had gotten at the end of the semester.

All right, but when was the last time I read a Clone Wars fic? Probably even longer, I realized, the knot in my stomach tightening even further. All of my reading had been centered around school stuff, or the occasional foray into other fandoms. I hadn’t read a Clone Wars fic in well over a month at this point.

Finally, I closed the laptop, pouring all of my energy into studying the room and listening as intently as I could manage. “Rex? If you can hear me, can you come this way?”

There. A shimmering shape strode in my direction. As I concentrated, I started to be able to see Rex’s armored figure, all the way up to his concerned eyes.

“What’s happening?” he asked, voice low and urgent.

“I lost you there for a moment,” I admitted, feeling a stab of guilt.

“I’ve been here all day and you haven’t even looked at me,” Rex told me, voice so quiet I could barely hear him. “It’s like you could hear me, either.”

“I couldn’t.” I frowned. Focusing on the conversation was beginning to be more of a challenge.

“Why not?”

At this point, it was more like reading lips than hearing a voice, but I answered anyway. “If I don’t take in enough content - watch episodes or read fics - I start to lose you guys. If I have you on my mind, I can always see and hear you. Most times, I don’t even have to try. But if I stop… I can lose the connection.”

By the end of the explanation, Rex had faded completely and I ridiculously had to swallow past a throat that had gone tight. I could get them back, I knew that much from when similar things had happened in the past, but it could be a while before they reappeared. And, if I took too long, the characters always ended up losing their memories of me. I didn’t have it in me to start over with the troopers, not with all of the connections I had formed.

The one thing that always brought them back to clear, crisp reality was the trailer for The Clone Wars Season 7. It had yet to fail. Several short minutes later, Rex was back, frowning fiercely.

“Why did you never mention that could happen?” he asked, clearly displeased.

I shook my head. “You guys have been around so long… I just- I haven’t had a connection last this long and this easily before. I thought maybe… maybe you all could exist independently and I would still have the connection.”

Rex sat beside me on my bed, looking thoughtful. “So this has happened before?”

“I told you guys: you aren’t the first group I’ve connected with before.”

“How often do you get groups like us?”

“LIke you? Never. I told you that I don’t form connections like this very often,” I reminded him. “But every so often, I’ll get someone new. I don’t always pick who it is- actually, I never get to pick who it is. They just show up and do their thing and I do mine. If we end up talking, cool. If not, we just exist in the same space for a little while.”

“Why does it happen with some, but not others? Or all?” Rex asked, and I was suddenly reminded that his logical, military mind was trained to take in and dissect information.

“I’m not sure, but I’m very glad it doesn't happen with all characters,” I said fervently. “Sometimes, people just show up and I see and hear them for a little while. Most times, they fade. A handful have stuck around for a while, but never as long as the troopers. They all end up leaving, though.”

“Do you miss the ones who left?” Rex’s question was so soft I almost didn’t hear it, but I didn’t think it was due to a problem with my connection, just the intense subject matter.

“I miss everyone who leaves,” I told him honestly. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you all move on, but when you need to go, you should go.”

Rex hesitated for a moment, but reached down and patted my knee. The weight of his hand was noticeably less than normal, but still somewhat solid. “Well, why don’t you ‘take in some content’ and we won’t worry about us leaving until it happens?”

I smiled lopsidedly at him, still feeling a bit flat at the idea of losing the troopers. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Previous | Next | Masterlist

#Clone Trooper Rambles #star wars the clone wars #captain rex #serious talks #i don't make the rules for my imaginary universe #i don't know who does #but i have some complaints #clone troopers deserve better #not crazy just creative #more to come #also accepting fic recommendations #or fic requests #i like writing and reading

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samwritesforyou · 4 years

Text

can the sinner get a happy ending?

Fandom: Code Geass

Summary: nunnally decides to clear lelouch’s name and lelouch - conveniently - around that time decides to visit his sister in disguise, because he just misses her so much. but what happens when he learns that people for some reason can’t remember him as a bloody emperor?

A/N: this fic is turning out to be longer than 15k already, so i will post only one part here, as of.. a “prologue”, or just a feel for you to what this story might bring with it. the rest i will upload on ao3! im really proud of this work :D enjoy!

also... im finally coming back to my favourite formatting of this “description” part for the fics, finally :D its been a mess last four fics, sorry! also sorry to everyone who doest follow me for code geass content, i will write different things too, dont worry!

Warnings: mention of a panic attack, no serious proof-reading

Wordcount: 4k (Prologue)

“Nunnally, I do not agree with this,” Suzaku said firmly, looking the empress straight in the eye, brows furrowed together.

“Suzaku-kun, I understand why you’re upset, but this will not harm the people in any capacity. I do this for my brother,” she stated just as strongly, not daring to shift her gaze elsewhere from his emerald pearls.

“But that doesn’t matter, using this power is just wrong!” he was almost yelling now, clutching his hand in the fist.

Whenever someone was talking about geass or even thought about using it, he always had severe reaction to that topic, probably due to all the trauma and suffering that it caused.

Kururugi has never had a fight with Nunnally yet, they had a calm relationship full of mutual love and trust. Despite her being Lelouch’s sister, she was never like him in any sense. And Suzaku feared the day once he’ll start to see the similarities. Despite loving his friend beyond any measure, his actions and thinking was oftentimes just.. extreme, to say the least. Extreme and dangerous, he was never supposed to gain the power he got ahold of. That’s what was going through Japanese’s mind as they were arguing with Nunnally.

She looked at him wide eyed and he could almost be able to see how the wall of trust they’d built together cracked ever so lightly, as the young empress lowered her gaze and sighed.

“Zero, this is an order. Tell Lloyd to have it ready by tomorrow,” there was such unfamiliar coldness in her tone that it made Suzaku stop in his tracks as she turned around in the wheelchair and started to drive away from him.

It was unfamiliar from her, yet.. so familiar from Lelouch.

There was hardly a day when he didn’t think of him. Either cursing him or praying to him to come back.

He didn’t wear a mask right now, because they were talking in the empress’ private rooms where no servants had access to, so he could be himself around here, yet.. yet she addressed him as Zero.

Suzaku’s green eyes shifted slowly, now looking at his feet.

He was clothed in the purple costume with gold lines, purple gloves and a white puff scarf tucked into the shirt. He hated it. He hated all of it. Every single fibre.

He fell to his knees, breath catching in his throat and he felt the familiar dizziness coming into motion.

He was having a panic attack.

It wasn’t anything new to him and Suzaku found out that the best way to fight it is to let it flow. Let it consume him and shiver uncontrollably, salty tears falling from his eyes onto the red carpet as he bowed his head to the floor.

He was alone possibly in the whole floor so there would be no one watching. No one acknowledging how much pain this human being has to endure, when his only wish is to die.. and when he can’t possibly even do that.

When he finally felt the convulsions stop and dizziness drifted away he sat up on the ground, lifting a hand to his face with a sigh that echoed through the richly decorated halls.

“What a fucking day,” man whispered to himself, slowly getting up and taking the mask of Zero, putting it on, feeling the material close surely around his head so no one could possible guess his true identity anymore.

The stare that nobody could see was deprived of any emotion. Now he was just a faceless person with a mission from the empress.

He went straight to Lloyd’s engineering wing, passing the painting of himself in the white suit as the pilot of the Lancelot, a piece of black cloth at the side of the golden frame, meaning that he’s still being mourned by the genius technician.

“Nunnally vi Britannia demands for the device to be ready by tomorrow,” he said sternly, never adjusting his cape as Lelouch always did - a waste of time and a touch that’s soaked with pretentiousness.

“Of course, Zero, your wish is my command! It’s almost ready anyways,” engineer answered, sitting alone by the table where he continued to work on some cables and connections to various pieces of metal.

He was offered to gain at least a dozen of good workers that could help him in his experiments but earl declined, saying that there’s nothing much to invent without his beautiful pilot and no grandiose war going on between Britannia and Japan anymore.

Suzaku just curtly nodded at that, staying watching him for a moment longer than necessary, just wishing he could reveal to him who he really is and that his pilot is still alive and well and could try some of his new knightmares if he ever makes some.

“Lloyd-san, it’s break time!” suddenly rung a high pitched voice through the empty working space as Cecile came closer to both of them with a little tray rattling with silverware and some food on the surface.

“Oh, Zero, I didn’t notice you come in,” she said sheepishly and smiled, pulling the tray towards him a little in an offering.

“Don’t you want to stay and have lunch with us?” she asked in her sweet voice, the one she uses when she wants to make the good impression, but Suzaku just sighed.

These two were the only people who didn’t really judge him. Even when they didn’t know his true identity, it almost seemed like they were friends like they were before. He liked spending time here, but possibly couldn’t keep them company in eating, since.. he couldn’t really take off his helmet.

“Cecile-san, you know that I mustn’t reveal my identity, hence I can’t keep you company at lunch. Only if I sat by the table without taking a single bite,” he said, a soft smile finally breaking to his lips, making the corners of his mouth go up just a little bit.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, finally realising why this offer wouldn’t work out, but then she said “oh” again and quickly made a beeline towards the main doors, locking them.

“But what if! I locked the main entrance so nobody could come in while we’re eating,” she started enthusiastically and then made another small run towards the light switch, looking with hope at her boss and then the masked man, “and we would also eat in pitch darkness, so you could finally enjoy something with acquaintances, like a normal person?” she smiled and then blinked comically, correcting herself and laughing nervously, “I’m not saying that you’re not normal, of course, I’m just. I realise that it must be hard to be wearing a mask all the time, mustn’t it?” she finished carefully, biting her lower lip.

“Cecile-kun, you’re making Zero intrigued, I think!” Lloyd barked a loud laugh, looking over at his ex-subordinate, “What do you say, Zero? I promise you no peeking!” he teased and got closer to him, wiggling his brows.

Suzaku couldn’t help himself but felt his smile growing wider at that suggestion. There really was no risk, right?

Did Cecile want to try it for a while now? Because it seems like a thought of plan, after all.

*If I keep shielding myself from others I might as well go insane sooner or later.. What’s the harm in one, pitch black lunch, right?..*

Suzaku thought to himself and then nodded.

“Okay, why not?” he said, making Cecile excitedly jump in the air and Lloyd lean deeper into his chair with a pleased hum.

“Alright! On the count of three I’ll turn off the lights and then.. hopefully make it to you guys without any problem!” she explained and on the count of three she really turned off the lights.

Suzaku wasn’t rushing in taking off his helmet, at first waiting for Cecile to make it safely to their little table. It.. was really dark.

“Cecile-san, please be careful,” he said, now being kind of nervous for his friend.

“I’m okayyy!” in the end of the sentence she yelped, because her outstretched arm collided with Zero’s mask, making a low thud, “I.. suppose I made it to the table, right?” she laughed and Suzaku gave out a chuckle as well, carefully putting her hand aside, so she could find the chair to sit on in this ridiculous darkness.

“Okay, so.. I’ll just warn you that I won’t be speaking while we’re eating, because I have a voice modifier inside that distorts my original voice,” Kururugi explained carefully, waiting for their reactions.

“Ahhh, so you can’t be tracked even by voice recognition, that’s very smart!” mused Lloyd, already, what it seemed, with a mouthful of food, “Or you’re someone who we know, so you don’t want to be recognised! But that’s less probable than the first point,” he concluded to himself, now apparently drinking something.

“I won’t comment on that, Lloyd-san,” Suzaku said and then sighed, “Itadakimasu.”

And with that, the only sound in the room despite the munching on the food was the noise of Zero’s mask unzipping and being put near him on the ground.

Japanese inhaled sharply, filling his chest with some fresh air, even though they were inside.

He finally scratched his nose and then rubbed his eyes, using all of the time he has without a mask. Being without it in public was a really rare occasion, so he felt ecstatic, thinking that.. maybe one day his life might get better.

Once he took a big bite of some veggie balls that were on the plate in front of him, he already wanted to say how delicious it is, especially compared to first things she ever cooked for them, but then stopped himself, instead just gulping down the food.

He noticed that the other two were silent as well, probably honouring the fact that one of this trio cannot talk. How nice of them, truly.

During the whole process he was careful of sounds to be able to in time put a mask back on if needed, but nothing really happened. He only heard some clicking, as if someone was taking glasses on and off two times, but other than that, nothing. It was probably Lloyd messing around anyways.

He sighed with relief when he finished, reluctant to put the mask back on. Despite of being in the dark for so long, his eyes didn’t adjust and he still couldn’t see anything, probably because the place was really devoid of all light at the moment.

Then he shook his head to himself, thinking that revealing his identity would be too risky at the current situation, so he put the mack back on, making a clicking sound in the dark.

“I’ll turn the light back on,” Suzaku said and luckily didn’t collide with anything on his way there.

Once the light was back on, the trio grunted in unison, their eyes certainly not being able to absorb this all at once.

He didn’t sit back down to the portable table but just stood next to it, looking at Cecile.

“Thank you for the meal, it was very delicious,” he said, smiling at her.

“I’m glad it was,” when she lifted her dark blue eyes at him, it looked like she’s been crying, so he got instantly worried.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I am, thank you, it’s just the sudden light,” she laughed weakly in response, placing her gentle palm on top of his hand, squeezing a little.

Suzaku then pulled away and nodded, still with a warm aftertaste of being treated like an actual friend or an acquaintance.

“I’ll get going then. See you tomorrow, Lloyd-san,” Zero turned away on his heels and made his way from the engineering lab.

“Cecile-kun, the tears weren’t from the lighting, were they?” once they were alone, Lloyd looked at her with a pleased grin, swiftly putting his hand into her pocket and taking night vision glasses out of there, waving them in the air in front of her, “Who is he?”

“I’m sorry, Lloyd-san, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” she said with a warm smile, a single tear falling down her cheek, “but he is a good person. We can definitely trust him.”

Life went at significantly slower pace in the countryside than in the city. Nobody was busy.. there actually was *nobody*. Only him and C.C.

The perfect solitude life for two sinners who wanted to make their wishes come true.

Lelouch was just in the middle of harvesting some plants from their little farm, taking breaks every so often because his physique didn’t improve even in conditions like this.

The strew hat oh his head protected him from the angry sun that was shining though the eternity of summer in these lands.

“C.C., can you please get me a container for these? I think it’s better to grow them inside, they’re dying out there on all this heat,” ex-emperor barged into their house with two plants in his hands, taken out of the ground with the roots, waiting for help from the green haired companion he had by his side.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she put away the knitting equipment and lowered her bare legs from the table she was resting on, getting up to her feet, making a beeline for the back room, where the junk of all sorts was stored. For situations like this.

She looked around the whole room, noticing old Zero suit just hanging by the wall, some markers and scissors peeking out of the pockets. She sighed and lowered her olive eyes, finally finding what her partner has asked her for.

With two brown-ish pots in hands she went back and put them on the floor in from of the skinny man, returning to the back room once again to get some fresh soil for the poor plants.

Then she came back for the second time, plopping next to the bag with terra, tearing it open and pouring the soil into the pots.

Lelouch was looking at her this whole time, as if exploring every millimetre of her pale skin. He did it often now. Paying more attention to the details and that made him even the better deduction master than he’s been before.

Sherlock Holmes was onto something, truly.

He could now finally put the plants into their new home now, patting the ground with his elegant fingers, making sure they’re steady in it.

Then he placed them next to the dining table and wanted to go out again.

“Lelouch,” simply said C.C., taking her knitting needles in hands alongside the purple yarn which for the most part was being dragged behind her as she followed him outside.

“Hm?” was the only answer she got, as Lelouch continued taking care of the garden, completely immersed in the activity.

Or maybe his mind was thousand miles away..

“I miss you,” she stated, still knitting, kind of furiously, even though her face was unchanging.

“What? I’m right here,” he chuckled, his hands firmly in the ground, making sure that the plants have enough space to grow and expand.

“No. The old you, the one who was always in motion, who didn’t let life stop him, the one who made me feel like life is a game worth winning,” she said, her hands slowing down in the tempo of her activity, “I feel like you’re losing yourself too.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment after that, working like some gardener, brows furrowed together.

“But we won, C.C. This might not be the life that you nor I want to live, but that’s a small price to pay for the world to stay in peace, don’t you think?” he finally met her eyes, lifting his amethysts from the greenery.

“What about Nunnally? Don’t you wanna see her?” there was no hesitation in her voice as the man got up from his knees and pointed a finger at her in a warning manner.

“I told you to never say her name aloud..” he whispered, no signs of anger on his face, only sadness pooling in his dark, beautiful eyes.

“So you just want to forget her? Or what? What’s your plan?” she stood on her tiptoes now to get closer to his face, talking in the same semi-whispering way, not willing to step down.

This kind of rivalry was the thing that kept these two going in the most dire times when they just wanted to fuck it all and return to the old swing of things.

“I have no plan,” said Lelouch so closely to her lips that at some point of his phrase they touched and he then pulled away, making his way back to the house.

“Hm. What a sore loser,” she mused with a smile on her face, following him and plopping herself on the couch, knitting away.

For the rest of the day they didn’t exchange a single word.

Suzaku was dreading today. The day started already badly from the beginning.

He woke up with a headache and outside was pouring rain, attacking large windows in his private rooms, sound echoing through the space that lacked furniture.

Despite having amazing athletic skills, the curly haired boy was still very skinny for his height and his depression often made him feel like he doesn’t even need or deserve to eat anything.

He sat on the bed, white shirt loose on his shoulders, shuddering to himself.

It was so dark. And lonely. Everyday was the same. Lonely, lonely, lonely. Alone. Echo drifting through the void of his existence, springing off the rich, gold decorated walls which mean absolutely nothing to him.

He hated to reside in the royal palace but he would hate even more to be somewhere alone.

Here he at least has Nunnally... someone who knows completely and unconditionally who he is.

His first plan of action each morning is to wake her up, let her dress and then go together to the dining hall and have breakfast. Only after that they would proceed to go on official side of the business.

When he came to her room and saw an empty bed his heart sunk uncomfortably fast and Kururugi rushed to it, seeing a note neatly folded on the sheets.

*I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, but I will be in my office earlier today. Have something to eat and then bring me the finalised Product. We’ll hold the ceremony in the evening.”

It said and he slowly slid his fingers over the letters, face growing grim.

The product.. she meant the geass button. His stomach curled up and he started to feel nauseous.

If any doctor would see Suzaku right now, they would probably tell him to take a vacation at least for a month and rest for the eternity of it.

There was no professional to stop him, though, so he just stepped hard on all of his emotions, knitting his brows together, putting the Zero mask on.

He marched from the private empress wing and saw quite a lot of commotion, probably because of the speech that Nunally will be giving later.

A lot of people started coming up to him, saying “Zero please do this and that” and Kururugi just waved them all away, for once without any capacity left to feel guilty that he can’t help with preparations.

Soon enough young man found himself in the technician part of the palace where everything was more silent. Way easier to bear the silence here than in his room, he noticed.

“Ah, Zero, welcome!” mused Lloyd, greeting his with open arms, “Everything is ready! Still don’t understand why would the empress need such a device that never brought nothing good but I guess it is not my business to ask, am I right?” he smirked and looked at the masked person, hands on hips.

“It indeed isn’t,” said Suzaku in the low tone, just being fed up with this day. He’d much rather take off his mask and tell the whole world that his death was a lie instead of even touching the device that can inflict such a power. Power that he despises.

But he can’t do that. He can’t do that because he is a slave. He always will be. Lelouch was right. He just lets people to spit on him over and over, in the end not changing a single thing in the grand scheme of things.

Suzaku wasn’t the greatest politician, despite his dad rooting heavily in politics, and so japanese were actually still being oppressed. He just didn’t know how to solve it. He wasn’t as great of a leader as Lelouch was, as the real Zero was.

He’s just a mere replacement that can’t even do his job right.

So he will take the geass button that Nunnally requested from his friend that doesn’t even know who he is, he will ignore Cecile-san as she comes in just seconds before he leaves and waves enthusiastically at him, he will continue in his heavy steps all the way to the palace, he will shrug off every single interviewer that wants to have a discussion with Zero, leader of a nation, he will knock on empress’ office where she is ready for the speech to give to the whole population. And he will bow down before her, getting on one knee, giving her the power he hates. She will just curtly nod at him and then put the device carefully in her lap, just out of reach of the camera. He will stand beside her as Zero, and there will be silence before the broadcast.

He is just a servant. Merely that.

“Nunnally,” he said, devoid of any emotion left, “you still won’t tell me which order are you going to give?” he was looking straight into the tv screen in front of them, as the countdown showed still two minutes left before the beginning of the stream.

“No,” she said seriously, looking at the same direction, tensing up.

“So it will work on me and I won’t even know, huh,” his tone was now softer and quieter, accepting the fact that his most loved person alive is essentially doing what he hated the most.

“No. I got that checked up, Suzaku,” in her voice could be heard a small smile, probably a sad one, as she continued “Apparently the order that my brother gave you was so powerful that you’re immune to any different type of geass,” she said with a deep sigh, “so you’ll hear it and won’t be affected. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He couldn’t answer her anything on that because the timer was already up and the political duo went live to the millions of people that were watching, all around the globe.

The topic of the speech was supposed to be about more liberation rights for Japan, so that created a lot of so-called “hype” amongst the citizens, britannians as well as japanese. The maximum amount of people were watching and they will all obey the empress. That was the plan.

“Nunnally vi Britannia commands you,” with hearing these words Suzaku got goosebumps, his hands squeezing the handles of her wheelchair as much as he could to prevent himself from doing anything that he might regret later, “please, everyone who is watching this or hearing this, forget about the fact that the 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire was Lelouch vi Britannia. From now on, you will all remember him as just a person without a face, someone who wanted to rule the entire world, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Lelouch,” she said, after pressing the button.

Even a normal person could feel a literal surge of some energy coming out of the room they were in and Suzaku widened his eyes as he heard the order.

His mouth hung open as he was trying to make sense of what she just said.

Nunnally cleared Lelouch’s name.

Nunnally... cleared Lelouch’s name.

Kururugi couldn’t focus on anything that the empress proceeded to talk about after that, staring blankly at the wall and for the first time he was genuinely glad that he was wearing a mask, so that nobody could see his shocked expression.

A/N: this fic can be now found on ao3! i wont be updating it here on tumblr because that would be just too many chapters and that's just... too much work fdsjfjsf

#code geass fanfiction #code geass #suzalulu #suzalulu fanfic #suzaku kururugi #lelouch lamperouge #suzaku kururugi fanfic #lelouch lamperouge fanfic #im SO PROUD of this work i hope people will notice it

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chloelucia13 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12: The Mind Flayer

Pairing: none for the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x Platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: Returning to the lab proved more difficult than you had thought, and it wasn’t just because of the demogorgon-like creatures that littered the town. But when everyone was finally out, a savior finally showed up on the Byers’ porch.

Warnings: LOTS OF ANGST, maybe a tiny bit of fluff, language, lots of conflict, descriptions of violence and gore, AND JONATHAN IS BACK BABEY

Word Count: 3082

A/N: Finally some drama! I’m really excited to hear what you guys think of this chapter, and I’m especially excited to release next week’s chapter because it literally made me cry when I was writing it. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the taglist is open! Let me know what you guys think!

Catch up here!

Tags: @just-my-fandom, @nightbu-g

You hadn’t realized just how long you had been standing that day until your feet ached with every step you took.

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas asked as you all walked along the train tracks, making the trek home.

“Yes, he had the same yellow pattern on his butt,” Dustin responded shortly.

“Wait, hold on,” you spoke up. “You named that thing?”

“Obviously, keep up Y/N.” He huffed.

“He was tiny just two days ago,” Lucas brought up.

“Well he’s molted three times already.”

“Malted?” Steve questioned confusedly.

“Molted. Shed his skin to make room for growth. Like hornworms,” Dustin explained.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gotta be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown. Or close to it. And so will his friends.”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat more than just cats,” Steve deadpanned.

“Wait, a cat?” Lucas cut in, stepping in front of Dustin to stop him. “Dart ate a cat?”

“No, what? No,” Dustin scoffed.

"What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve responded, even more confused than he was earlier.

“Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max asked, seeming almost as lost as Steve.

“My cat,” you huffed.

“Y/N! Steve!” Dustin whined.

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas accused, shoving Dustin slightly.

“No!”

“No?”

“No, I... He missed me. He wanted to come home.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t know he was a demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

“Guys, who cares? We have to go,” Max interrupted, growing impatient.

“I care! You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!” Lucas continued, ignoring Max.

“So did you!” Dustin countered.

“What?”

“You told a stranger the truth!”

Dustin shone his light in Max’s face, and Max looked away in annoyance and disbelief. “A stranger?” she spat.

You and Steve shared a look as they continued to fight, both of you silently arguing on who needed to butt into the conversation and stop it before it went too far. That silent argument quickly ended, however, when you both heard a loud screeching in the distance. Steve shone his light in that direction, and you walked slowly beside him towards the source of the sound.

“Guys?” Steve voiced.

The kids ignored him, continuing to bicker.

“Guys!” you shouted, startling them all and making them look at you, panic rising in your throat. The screeching continued, and the two of you jogged forward.

“No, no, no. Hey guys? Why are you running towards the sound?” Max asked as Dustin and Lucas began following behind you and Steve. “Hello? Hello?” She let out a huff before hurrying to catch up with you all.

The screeching continued in the distance as you all stood at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the Hawkins Forest.

“I don’t see him,” Dustin sighed.

Lucas raised his binoculars to his eyes as he surveyed the forest, pulling them away a moment later with a look of worry on his face. “It’s the lab. They’re going back home.”

***

You were silent on the rushed trek down to the lab, unable to even imagine speaking without bursting into tears. You felt like it was your fault. Like a butterfly effect. If you had stayed at the lab for Will, none of this would’ve happened. These strange creatures wouldn’t exist, and no one’s life would be at stake.

Bile had been lingering in the back of your throat since you had seen all the lights in the lab shut off, and at this point, you thought you were about to pass out from panic and guilt.

Luckily, you all had made it to the fenced area around the lab in record time, and you were now making your way around the fenced area to get to the automated gate.

“Hello? Who’s there?” a voice shouted just past the clearing of trees, and it made you jump. You immediately gripped onto Steve’s wrist, shaking like a leaf as you all made your way through the clearing, Steve’s flashlight shining through the dark night.

As soon as two figures came into view, their voices echoed in unison. “Steve? Y/N?”

“Nancy?” Steve spoke, shocked.

“Jonathan?” you whispered out, mirroring his shock.

“What are you guys doing here?” Nancy asked, all of you rushing forward to gather together.

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve echoed.

“We’re looking for Mike and Will.”

“They’re not in there, are they?” Dustin asked, and your stomach churned.

“We’re not sure.”

“They are,” you choked out, staring up at the looming building. “I-I was supposed to come back for them. I just went home to grab this stupid thing-” you waved your machete in your hand- “and now they’re stuck in there a-and...” You trailed off, tears welling in your eyes.

An ear-splitting screech broke through the air, and you let out a silent sob. The tears began to flow freely as you rushed over to the gate, wedging the tip of the blade between the two bars that held the gate closed. You tried with all your might to wedge them open, but to no avail. “No, no, no,” you cried out, hooking your fingers into the chain link and jangling it. “Fuck!”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you immediately flinched away from it, turning around to see Jonathan standing there. “Y/N,” he whispered, trying to calm you down. “The power is back on.”

You nodded, fervently scrubbing the tears away from your cheeks before stepping away from him. The creaking of the gate motor sounded, and you watched as it slowly inched open.

“Come on, Y/N, we’ve gotta go!” Jonathan shouted at you as he hopped in the driver’s seat of his car.

You shook your head. “I-I need to stay here. I need to make sure they all get out. I can’t,” you explained, your voice cracking with every word.

You knew Jonathan didn’t have the time to argue, and you stepped aside to let them drive in and pick them up. He sped past you, leaving you and Steve and the kids at the gate.

“You okay?” Steve asked, stepping over to you.

“No, I don’t think so,” you whispered, sniffling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He patted your shoulder.

You nodded, standing there for a moment. “You’re right, Steve.”

“About what?”

“I only like the people who don’t care about me.”

He examined your face, trying to find the right words to say.

“Guys!” Max shouted, and you looked up to see Jonathan’s car, followed by Hopper’s car. You all immediately cleared the way to let them drive through, and Hopper pulled up next to you all.

“Let’s go,” he urged, and you all clambered into the car before speeding off.

***

You silently sat in the dark dining room, your knees tucked up under your chin as you stared blankly into the living room at Will’s sleeping figure, Jonathan sat next to him. You could hear Hopper yelling demands into the phone just feet from you, but it felt like it could’ve been 100 yards away. It was like your head was underwater, everything sounding warbled and muted. You knew that feeling all too well, that sensation. You were dissociating, completely checked out as your brain replayed every horrible thought on a loop until you felt as if you were going insane.

“Hey Y/N, you there?”

You felt a tap against your shoulder and you jumped to your feet, grabbing onto whatever touched you and holding it tightly in your fist.

“Y/N, Y/N! It’s me! It’s Jonathan!”

Your vision cleared and you saw Jonathan’s wrist clasped tightly between your fingers. You immediately loosened your grip and shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Sorry,” you voiced flatly.

He rubbed his wrist, his eyes flickering over your form. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’m fine.” You squeezed past him, out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

A moment later, the kids and Steve hurried into the kitchen, gathering around the kitchen table. Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan all entered after them, everyone bunching up around the table as Dustin laid down a book.

“The mind flayer,” Dustin announced, referring to the creature printed on the page the book was opened to.

“What the hell is that?” Hopper voiced from behind the group, disdain in his voice.

“It’s a monster from an unknown dimension. It’s so ancient, it doesn’t even know its true home.” Dustin glanced around the table, noticing the disinterest and confusion on everyone’s faces. “Okay, it enslaves other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly developed psionic powers.”

“Oh my god. None of this is real. It’s a kid’s game,” Hopper interrupted, already growing frustrated.

“It’s a manual. And it’s not for kids. And unless you know something that we don’t, this is the best metaphor-”

“Analogy,” Lucas corrected.

“Analogy. That’s what you’re worried about? Fine, an analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is,” Dustin huffed.

“Okay, so this mind flamer thing-” Nancy began.

“Flayer. Mind flayer,” Dustin corrected.

Nancy let out a sigh. “What does it want?”

“To conquer us, basically. It believes it’s the master race.”

“Like the Germans,” Steve generalized.

“Nazis, Steve,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah, the Nazis.”

“Uh, if the Nazis were from another dimension, totally,” Dustin agreed. “It views other races, like us, as inferior to itself.”

“It wants to spread, take over other dimensions,” Mike added.

“We’re talking about the destruction of our world as we know it,” Lucas continued.

“That’s great. That’s great. That’s really great. Jesus!” Steve rambled, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, so if thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything, then if we kill it,” Nancy voiced, picking up the book.

“We kill everything it controls,” Mike completed her thought.

“We win,” Dustin concluded.

“Theoretically,” Lucas corrected.

Hopper took the book from Nancy’s hands, examining the page. “Great. So how do you kill this thing? Shoot it with fireballs or something?” he grumbled.

“No. No, no fireballs,” Dustin chuckled. “Uh, you summon an undead army, uh, because...” He began to stutter, remembering who he was talking to. “Because zombies, you know, don’t have brains. And the mind flayer, it... It likes brains.It’s just a game. It’s a game.”

“What the hell are we doing here,” Hopper huffed, closing the book and tossing it onto the table.

You let out a sigh, stepping away from the table and hopping up onto the kitchen counter, sitting there silently as everyone began to bicker.

“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, It’s Will. And maybe Y/N,” Mike spoke, pulling you from your trance. “He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.” Mike turned to you. “And you were in the upsidedown with him. You’ve been with him through this. And you knew something was wrong with him, that day at the school.”

You shrugged. “It was just a feeling. And I haven’t experienced anything Will is going through. I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“But wait,” Max interrupted. “I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore. That he’s a spy for the mind flayer now.”

“Yeah, but he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is,” Mike countered.

***

You were sifting through one of the few closets full of stuff in the Byers’ house when someone cleared their throat behind you.

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Jonathan asked from behind you before moving to sit next to you on the floor. You nodded silently in response, prompting him to continue talking. “I... I really appreciate you helping Will and Mom. It really means a lot.”

Again, you just nodded.

“Are... Are you and Steve dating?”

“What?” you voiced, finally taking your gaze away from the pile of fabric to look at Jonathan. “No, God no.” You scoffed before turning back to the pile, pulling out an old comforter. “Are you and Nancy dating?”

“I... I don’t know. I think so.”

You hummed, picking up the pile of sheets you had found that would work as decent coverings for the shed.

“I-I just asked because you and Steve were together with the kids.”

“Yeah, well he’s been one of the only people who has given a shit about me these past few days, so maybe that’s why.” You pushed yourself to your feet and turned to walk away, only for Jonathan to step in front of you.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He reached out and rested his hand on your shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I don’t really think I can anymore. I mean, I was gonna the day after Halloween. You know, the night you left me at that party so you could take Nancy home? But then you disappeared with Nancy, so maybe I just shouldn’t waste my fucking time trying to talk to you.”

“Y/N-”

“We’ll talk about this when Will is better. Or will you even be around?” You shoved past him and stormed out of the house, over to the shed.

“Let’s get this shit done with,” you told Steve, tossing the sheets to the ground by his feet. Both Steve and Nancy gave you a confused look before exchanging a look between themselves. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked, reaching out towards you.

You turned away from her, grabbing a sheet off the floor. “I’m just fine.”

***

You were almost fast asleep with your head laying against the kitchen table when Hopper, Joyce, Mike, and Jonathan all stormed in. Bob grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and everyone gathered around him as he began to write down a series of dots and dashes.

“What happened?” Dustin questioned as everyone watched over Hopper’s shoulder.

“I think he’s talking, but not with words,” Hopper sighed.

“What is that?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed.

“Morse code,” Lucas and Dustin and Mike replied in unison.

“H-E-R-E,” Hopper spelled out.

“Here,” Max cut in.

“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.”

“So we need to keep him aware, keep reminding him of where he is,” you stammered out. “Maybe he can tell us how to help him.”

Jonathan immediately rushed out of the room, and a small glimmer of hope began to reside in your chest, making your heart race.

“Maybe you can talk to him,” Mike spoke, and you nodded slowly.

“I mean, I can try.”

Jonathan rushed back in with his radio in his hand, and Hopper and Joyce followed behind him into the backyard and to the shed.

Hopper stopped in the doorway, grabbing Will’s radio off of the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna send you what he says. Write it down,” Hopper instructed before leaving.

***

The letters “C-L-O-S-E-G” were written out on a piece of cardboard when Hopper entered the room.

“Y/N?” he voiced, and you rose to your feet. “It’s your turn.”

You nodded, following Hopper out into the shed. You closed the door behind you before you slowly moved over to the empty seat positioned in front of Will.

“Hey bud,” you whispered, sitting down. “It’s me, Y/N. Do you remember me?” You searched his fearful eyes as he shook his head. “We... We were stuck in the Upside Down together. I had found you there, in Castle Byers.”

Tears were already welling in your eyes. “I protected you while we were there,” you continued, your voice cracking. “You were so tired, so cold. One night, a day or two before we got out, you... You weren’t doing so well. But you didn’t want to fall asleep, you were scared. So I told you stories that my mom would tell me to get me to go to sleep. And I sang you Joy Division.” You wiped away a few of the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “That was the only time I saw you smile when we were there, and it... It gave me hope. It helped me believe that we would get out of there. And we did. And I know that you feel like you’re still stuck in there, I know that you’re scared. But I’m here with you. We’re all here with you. And it’s gonna be okay.”

A small sob began to bubble in your chest when he stayed silent, but it quickly turned into a gasp of horror as you heard the ringing of the telephone sound from inside the house. Will’s head immediately snapped in that direction before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and a strange sound echoed in his chest.

You stumbled out of the and backed away as Hopper and Joyce rushed forward. “It knows. It knows where we are,” Hopper voiced gravely.

Joyce immediately ran over and grabbed the syringe filled with a tranquilizer and injected it into Will’s arm, effectively knocking him out. A moment later, a familiar screeching filled the air.

You all worked to free Will from his binds before you all ran back inside, slamming the door shut behind you. Steve handed you your machete as soon as he saw you, and you gripped the handle tight.

Nancy took a shotgun from Hopper, and you, Nancy, Steve, and Hopper all stood in front of everyone else, wielding your weapons. A loud thud echoed from the side of the house, and you all shifted to face that way.

“What are they doing?” Nancy voiced.

Snarling sounded to your right, and you all shifted again. Its screeches grew louder and louder, and your heart began to thud in your ears.

And then, silence.

A moment later, glass flew all around the room as the body of one of the creatures flew through the front window, rolling limply onto the floor. You all inched closer towards it, ready for it to lunge.

“Holy shit,” Dustin exclaimed.

“Is it dead?” Max asked, hesitant.

Hopper pushed its head with his foot, watching as it lolled around.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the creaking of the front door. Startled, all of you turned in that direction. The lock on the door slid out of place, and the other lock on the doorknob turned before the door inched open.

In the doorway stood a girl, one that you recognized immediately.

You all lowered your weapons as Eleven stepped through the door, blood dripping from her nose.

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms - Don't Leave Me Now

Part 20

So funny thing, I had this chapter 90% finished at the beginning of last weekend and planned on having it out by then. Instead I got horrifically sick AGAIN. I hate January through February. I either stay consistently sick or contract acute bronchitis. There are no exceptions.

Anyways, there's probably only four chapters left of this story, if that. So hopefully I'll get those out faster without so many pauses between. As always, thank you for your patience and support.

CLOSED LIST of ridiculously nice and patient people: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Barbara knocked on their door at eleven on the dot, rolling in and immediately greeting Tim, who laid across the couch where he'd spent the night until they could find a more permanent sleeping situation. Jason stood frozen in the doorway to the bedroom, barely registering as Mari came up behind him from the bathroom only to stop dead as well.

"Hey Jay. Been a while, hasn't it?" Babs spoke with a strained smile, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.

He saw Tim dart his eyes back and forth between the two before a startled expression stretched across his features, turning back towards him and Mari, the latter gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, "You were gone before the incident."

"What incident?" Mari growled out behind him, hands clawing at his back in agitation until his hand reached back for her own, in which she immediately adjusted to hold on.

"The Joker. He captured me not long after you died. I hear someone took care of that though?" She rolled closer from her wheelchair, and wasn't Jason just so grateful his soulmate chose an accessible complex. Exhaling a shaky breath, he moved forward to give her a hug.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's gone now."

…

The four of them sat together for an hour, discussing what had happened to them all, Tim staying mostly quiet about his own past, but cutting in to help Barbara along with her story at times. Damian stayed away in his room, tuckered out socially from the last few days and deciding today would be dedicated to drawing in his room away from prying eyes. Occasionally he ventured out to get a drink or check on them, but otherwise kept away.

As time seemed to pass and Babs reacquainted herself to the two, finally understanding why Alfred use to treat Jason like two seperate people at times, the boy to Jason's left slowly seem to slouch in his seat. Apparently the ease in which they interacted with someone he trusted helped them into the teen's better graces. When the teen came to rest on folded arms and fell into a doze, he considered this an appropriate time to ask, "How often does he get sleep? I know for a fact he didn't get any last night."

"He's a work in progress on the sleep front. Never had anyone to force a sleep schedule on him so he's been awake most nights."

"You mean?" Mari asked.

"Absentee parents. Gone now, but just not present when he was growing up. Between the neglect and lack of praise, he's got a bit of a complex. Stays up even more since he's been with Bruce."

"I wonder how much he'd hate being kept to a more rigorous schedule," Mari wondered.

"Well, it couldn't hurt to try. You seem pretty good at using logic to force him into seeing your way and with how he's been acting since we found him, that's likely what he'll respond to," he stood up and made his way closer to the sleeping figure, "I'm going to lay him up in our bed, hopefully he'll take a while to wake up."

With that, he wrapped tucked an arm under legs and tilted Tim carefully into his chest in a bridal carry. The second he lifted, the teen jerked awake, attempting to escape his hold that had tightened to keep him steady.

"Yo, Tim, knock it off," he half growled as he avoided another flailed limb only to relax when the smaller one went still, eyes training on him.

"What… Why are you carrying me?"

"You fell asleep on the table. Just getting you somewhere more comfy. Relax birdy, I'll set you down in a second," Jason relayed, continuing into the main bedroom, ignoring the watchful look from behind as he sat Tim down into the bed, "Just go back to sleep, we'll wake you up to say goodbye to Babs before she leaves," he called over his shoulder, leaving the door open behind him so that the cautious Robin could keep track of them and listen in enough to calm once more.

"You're taking this a lot better than I would expect," Barbara commented as he rejoined them around the counter.

"Which part?"

"Being replaced."

"I wouldn't say we took it well, per say. We did go after Bruce a little and launch him across the sky," Mari cut in quietly, sipping from her mug.

"Well yeah, there's that," she chuckled, "but I was speaking more towards your reaction towards Tim specifically."

"It's not like it's his fault Bruce doesn't know when enough is enough. I get that Tim sought the position himself, but that doesn't take the responsibility off of Bruce's shoulders. I'm not going to hold that over his head, especially considering he was, what, twelve? Thirteen when he became Robin? Just a kid. I doubt his intentions were so dark as to want to replace a dead boy."

"Thirteen, yeah. He's fifteen now, but he seems so much older and yet so much younger at times. It's strange," Babs responded, looking towards where she knew Tim lay awake, listening.

"We were all forced to grow up too fast. It's insane to think we're only two years older than him. I feel ancient and yet he looks so young."

"You still look young yourself."

"Oh shut up, you know what I meant."

"What do you plan to do with him?" Babs asked carefully, looking towards Mari more than himself.

"Nothing," he responded for her.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," he offered a small grimace, "If he'd like to stay with us, we'll take him in, but that's up to him. We're not going to push him to do something just because we deem it the right thing to do."

"Hmm, I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Out of his peripheral, he took satisfaction at seeing Tim finally settle fully into the bed, slowly drifting back to sleep.

…

Three nights passed when Tim overstepped an unknown boundary. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, if not expected to happen. The innocence in the act only made it all the worse for those involved.

Everyone knew Tim never slept proper hours. The other occupants, however, tried to keep relatively normal hours if only for the sake of the youngest, who needed a consistent schedule. Tim assumed the others to sleep lightly if at all, considering all of their pasts. In a way, they proved him right.

Marinette heard a whisper in the night, pulling her from her slumber and into full, rigid consciousness. That was not Damian.

It ghosted softly across the floor, picking its way over to her side where she could almost feel the soft breath it released near to her face. Had it not been for her training, the sounds and air pressure change would never even occur to her. As it was, she felt her muscles coil tight as a spring, keeping everything still so as not to give herself away. When the hand descended towards her shoulder, she grabbed the thin wrist and twisted it down, forcing the body to kneel bedside with the captured arm atop the bed as she launched herself behind him and yanked a dagger from under her pillow tight across his throat, not enough to cut, but enough to get the warning across.

Move and you die.

The person cleared their throat a few times and called up tentatively to her bedmate, who sat up the moment they moved, "Jason?"

Jason jumped up immediately and gripped large, callused hands about her shoulders, ducking his lips near her ear, "Mari? Bit of a hostile hold you got on Tim there. Mind loosening it up?"

Snapping into focus once more, she took in her captive, seeing the thin frame and silky black locks, the slight fearful tinge to icy blues. Marinette couldn't help but scramble back into Jason's arms, dropping the dagger and kicking it across the room. Tim turned slowly, eyes meeting her own in a wary stare.

"I'm so sorry, Tim, I didn't even recognize you and I- that's. That's no excuse. I'm so very sorry I hurt you, you don't deserve to deal with that," she felt her body shake, eyes watering in the corners as she felt arms tighten around her.

"Are you okay? Did you need something?" Jason inquired in a deep soothing voice, eyes trained on the teen before them.

"I'm fine. It was nothing, I'll leave you be. Sorry I came in without permission," he stated calmly, ice blues not betraying anything.

"It's alright. If you need something at night, approach me, yeah? Less jumpy."

His eyes flashed before her with something, maybe surprise, before shutting off again, "of course. I'm going to move now," Tim directed at her, making her flinch, but nod slightly.

He picked his way around the edge of the room, closing the door behind him. Marinette slumped into Jason's chest, "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Not your fault, buttercup. It'll probably be a set back, but there's not a thing you could do bout your gut instincts."

The next morning, Tim was gone.

…

A week passed before he reappeared.

They heard from Barbara that he stayed at her place for a few of the days, traveling on others, but never returned to the Manor. When he showed up, his lips gave a sheepish little smile, eyes squinting ever so slightly and shoulders tense as Damian answered the door for him.

"Ugh, the stray is back," Damian stared up at him, narrow eyed at the boy who upset his Mari. When Tim didn't move, the kid's lip curled up, "Well get in already," he prompted, watching Tim enter and closing the door behind him.

Marinette kept quiet as Jason and her prepared dinner, exchanging glances and coming to a decision wirelessly as they placed down a fourth plate. When they all sat about the table, Tim hesitated by his chair, a confused twist to his lips.

"You don't have to eat if you're not hungry, but I would like if you sat with us," Marinette addressed him, with enough reassurance on her voice and apology in her eyes to convince him to sit down and tuck in to the meal they set before him. As the other three talked, listening whenever he decided to speak up or moving on when he seemed uncomfortable with a topic, they watched as Tim's shoulders slowly relaxed, forearms no longer pressing into the table, fists delicately cradling his fork instead of in fists around the metal. Marinette couldn't be sure what changed his mind and made him come back, but Jason had a hunch.

Dinner ended with Tim asking to stay the night. One night turned into many.

…

On his fourth night, Marinette and Jason woke to the sounds of hushed voices outside their door.

"Don't go in, she won't recognize you in sleep. It's dangerous."

"Of course she is dangerous in her sleep. She was trained to assume any approaching unknown is set to attack and kill. She will not attack me. Let go."

"She didn't even recognize me, you're going to get yourself killed."

"Did you go to her before in her room? Make yourself familiar at a time she wasn't sleeping?"

There was silence for a long while, until finally a hushed response, "Her subconscious mind sees me as an unknown. I haven't really leaned one way or the other to them while awake either. Of course neither of them would take well to me coming into their sanctuary while they're vulnerable. You're their kid, I'm just a flighty presence until I tell them otherwise."

At this point, Damian opened the door, casting a look back at Tim as he walked up to her and climbed up between the two and snuggling into her waiting arms.

She met eyes with Tim over Damian's head, sure that Jason was doing the same. The teen had a contemplative look, before pained understanding dawned upon his features. He nodded to them and closed the door. They could hear him shuffle back over to the couch, settling down into it.

Soon.

Whether anyone was ready for it or not, Tim would make his decision soon, and they all knew it.

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc #WFTW #part 20 #almost not sick #hopefully it lasts #sorry this is late #kind of all over the place

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mooncleo · 4 years

Text

and we recover slowly, my love, but surely

Fandom: Harry Potter

Main Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Description: Ron, Harry, and Hermione live together after the war. It seems like the logical choice, and the next step into comfortable domesticity seems logical as well. They learn and they love and they heal and cope and live and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect.

Words: 6,893

Edited: Literally not at all sorry guys

Author’s Note: Good morning to everyone who did not ask!!! I’m gonna double post my fic for all of my two followers, whom I love and cherish very much 🥰🥰

I honestly was not expecting this fic to end up being ot3, that kinda took me by surprise. So did my 2k turning into almost 7k, that was a little bit of fun.

I’m going to try to put in a read more, if I fail PLEASE tell me I don’t want anyone to have to scroll through everything.

Read it on Ao3 here.

…

It was the cool quiet of the evenings that kept him from even entertaining the thought of returning to London. Nights at the Dursley’s had never been this calm, always filled with Aunt Petunia or Vernon’s yelling, Dudley’s taunts, or the rumbling of an empty stomach, sent to bed without a bite of the dinner that he helped to cook.

He never went to bed hungry anymore. It was one of his triggers, they found out one night when he’d spent all day working on one of his projects and forgotten to eat- laying in the dark with his stomach beginning to knaw on itself in protest had sent him spiralling nearly into a fully blown panic attack. The Dursley’s had fucked him up, for sure.

It was not long that they’d been living together in their little cottage that Harry made a joke about cupboards and beds. It was bound to come up eventually, but he had hoped, somehow, to put the ensuing conversation off forever.

Before they had even gotten into details, Hermione’s eyes had started to water in a way that made him, quite frankly, uncomfortable. “All these years, and we never even knew? You’ve gone home to them every summer! I knew they didn’t feed you very well, but God, Harry. I didn’t think it was this bad."

He could tell that Ron felt the same way, but he’d never been particularly good at expressing it. Instead, Harry got twice the usual serving at dinner, and Ron’s grip was tight around him when they settled down to watch a movie later.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione brought it up again. She’d started by trying to convince him to file a court case against them.

"It’s a serious case of child abuse, Harry. They were horrible to you, and they shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” That argument had not gone down well, as Harry had first denied that there was any child abuse involved, however horrible they’d been, and then added on that he had no idea where they’d ended up after the war. He also didn’t really ever want to see them again, though he left that part out. He had a feeling it might not help his case.

“Well, you should at least go to therapy. It might help you process what they put you through.” She held up a finger when she saw him going to argue and said, “Listen, even if you don’t think the Dursley’s abused you, I still think you should go to therapy. Don’t pretend you haven’t stopped sleeping because of the nightmares, Harry Potter, so help me God. I know what you look like when you’re well-rested and this isn’t it. Those bags under your eyes could carry our groceries. Actually, I think we should all go. It’s not as though you’re the only one who went through a year on the run in addition to all the other fun trauma that comes with war."

Ron was a little confused about what therapy was until they explained the concept to him and he shouted out, "Mind healers! Oh! Yeah, we have those.” This, thankfully, saved them from the ordeal of finding an either muggleborn or squib therapist so that they could talk about magic without being declared properly insane.

Harry had been apprehensive about going to anyone who could claim to fix his mental issues- in part because he was half in denial about those mental issues to begin with. Yes, he had trouble sleeping most nights because of nightmares. Yes, he felt guilty about every single death that had happened during the war. Yes, the Dursley’s had treated him horribly for all of his life. But everyone had nightmares because of the war, those deaths really were his fault because they were all fighting for him, and the Dursley’s just hadn’t liked him that much on account of his parents. The hate was mutual, after all.

It only took one session with his mind healer, Gertha, for him to begin to open up to the idea that maybe he was a little bit misguided. Gertha was an 80 year old witch with gray hair just beginning to pepper her bun, and she took no shit. Her age had given her the grace of being willing to properly fight him when he started to go into a spiral, and she had a dry wit that he appreciated. Halfway through the first time they met, he’d started talking about the war and how it was his fault. Her eagle-eyed stare had stopped him in his tracks, and he’d asked, “What?"

"Boy, you are taking on far too much responsibility here. You think all those people died just for you? You think the war wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been around? No! Voldemort was coming back, with or without you- he would have found a way. And just because you were the face of the war, that does not make you the war. A rallying point does not control those who gather around it, it simply exists as a marker, a way to say ‘we are here.’ Those people did not die just for you, you hear me? They were going to fight either way. People don’t like to lay down and give up when their loves and lives are threatened."

At the time, he hadn’t believed a word she’d said, but he liked the way she said it. It wasn’t quite scolding, more disbelieving than anything else. She also had said that Voldemort was coming back with or without him, even without knowing about the horcruxes. He liked her wit and the easy way she had handled his self-pity. She reminded him a bit of Professor McGonagall, and that in and of itself was a recommendation to him.

He went back the next week, because she had told him to and he liked her. He felt lucky that he found someone he liked right away, because both Ron and Hermione didn’t like the first Healers they talked to. Hermione had not liked the bright, peppy young witch who was apparently entirely too optimistic. "Her office was covered in little paper flowers, as though she didn’t deal with grown adults. As soon as I mentioned the war she started patronising about how she felt there surely must have been a better option than fighting, like maybe talking. First of all, did she do literally any research before I walked into the room? Honestly, what if I had been just a mite more fragile? Or Harry?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark!” A pillow found its way through the air in the direction of his face.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Anyway, she was absolutely insane. 'Why did they have to fight?’ Because when another wizard throws a curse at you, you aren’t gonna just fucking stand there and take it! Good God, woman. I don’t know where she was during the war, but she clearly wasn’t paying any kind of attention to Britain. How did she even get her Healer’s license? Ridiculous.” Hermione took an angry sip of her tea and she and Harry both looked to Ron.

“Yeah, mine wasn’t as bad as all that. I just didn’t really think he had the type of vibe I’m looking for. Kinda reminded me of my dad, actually. Not really what I wanted.” After sympathetic nods from the other two, Ron turned towards the TV. “What are we planning on tonight?"

"Right! I forgot completely. The Princess Bride! The librarian was raving about it when I was checking it out, so hopefully it’ll be good.” As Ron was raised in a wizarding household, Harry hadn’t really had much of a childhood by way of movies, and Hermione’s parents had been very strict, the three of them had decided to work their way through iconic muggle films that they’d missed over the years. They’d all liked The Breakfast Club the week before, though they were postponing Star Wars from two weeks ago until they could get through the fight scenes without having semi-simultaneous panic attacks.

The Princess Bride was a hit, and Hermione liked it enough that she put the VHS on her to-buy list. They wanted to build up their own collection of movies that they liked for rewatching purposes. Hermione had argued that going to the Blockbuster and renting a movie was much more cost effective that just buying all of them outright, since they were trying to get through at least a movie a week. The boys had decided not to argue, as she tended to be right about most things (and was also managing their finances).

Three weeks later, Ron had found a mind healer he liked, and Hermione was still stuck. Ron never said much about the therapy sessions he went to, while Hermione preferred to rant after hers. “God, it’s like he wasn’t even listening! There has to be at least one healer out there that I can actually talk to with a modicum of intelligence."

Ron and Harry traded glances. Harry’s look was quizzical, Ron’s was certain. It seemed that Harry would be the one to say it, then. ”'Mione, do you think that there’s a chance that maybe you’re having trouble finding a therapist because you don’t want to give any of them the chance to help?“

She was quiet for a moment. "I mean. I had considered it, but. Well. None of them- well. I suppose I may not have been entirely fair with all them. Although I stand by everything I’ve said."

"Everything you’ve said? Your main complaint about the last one was that she wore a cardigan instead of doing warming charms on herself. You may want to rethink that, love.” Ron’s tone was gentle and amused. It was a good thing, because Harry was fairly certain she’d have bitten his head off if it’d been anything but.

“Oh. Yes, well. Maybe a tad.” She coloured as she admitted it, and then added, “It was a truly hideous cardigan, though."

"And warming charms are a rather simple.” Harry mimicked the arch way that Hermione said things of people she looked down on, a voice that only those close to her ever really got to hear. She never mocked people in polite company, but both Ron and Harry knew that she could be properly vicious when she felt like putting in effort. Ron laughed, and then Hermione did too, a second later. They descended into giggles for a few moments before subsiding.

“Really, though. Your main complaints about her were her clothing, and not the soundness of her advice. Maybe try a second session with her, and see if it was a one off? If the only thing you could come up with was an ugly sweater then she must have been rather on the nose about everything else."

"Hmmm. Maybe. She did seem reasonably intelligent, actually."

The matter was concluded for the night, and they all went off to bed. After a night of rest, Hermione felt comfortable admitting that, looking back, it was rather obvious that she had been searching for faults as an excuse not to have to be vulnerable around people she didn’t know very well.

The solution to this, according to her mind healer, would be to get to know each other before starting. Hermione raved about how intelligent the woman was when she got home, and Ron and Harry once again traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but they were glad to have been able to help her find someone she actually liked. Neither was surprised that she was happy so quickly. It had been clear to them, before, that she was searching for faults.

Their lives went on. Tuesdays became therapy days, and they’d all go out for ice cream afterwards. Eventually, Harry and Hermione ended up back in the workforce. Ron decided to stay home and take care of the house. (He referred to the two of them as his sugar parents, an idea that deeply offended Hermione. Harry thought it was hilarious.)

Harry had toyed with the idea of going on to become an auror like he’d thought he wanted when he was 15. It did not take him very long to decide that he’d only really come up with the idea in the first place because he’d supposed that his life’s purpose was fighting Voldemort, and the aurors could have given him a leg up in that. With as long as it had taken him to accept that his life had meaning beyond fighting and defeating a dark lord, he wasn’t going to give that up now.

They ended up spending the entire evening brainstorming when he brought up wanting to get a job. Even if he was never going to be an auror, he was still starting to get restless with all the free time they’d accrued living off the map together.

"You could be a- a- um, fuck, what’re they called. Bus driver!! That’s a job.” Hermione, rather drunk on her fourth glass of wine, had taken to suggesting whatever came to mind.

“I don’t drive, I’m gay."

"Mmmm, you’re just as bi as the rest of us, darling. I bet we could figure it out. Actually, you know what, we should probably get a car.” She was starting to light up the way she did when she had a goal, and Ron groaned loudly.

“God, I forgot we never even learned to drive. Do we have to? I can apparate half-decently, and so can Harry. We could just practice and then not drive."

At Hermione’s put-out look, Harry interjected. "I’ll put bus driver on the list, but I don’t know that we need to drive. Where are we going? Half the shit we eat we grow ourselves."

"That’s right! It’s sus- sustains- no, oh my god, I’m drunk- sustainsabilities. Fuck, I can’t speak. Sustainabilities. Yup, it’s sustainable! We’re helping the environment.” Hermione had, at some point during their conversation, migrated sideways so that she was leaning almost entirely on Harry.

“'Mione, you have to move. You gotta- lean on Ron, I have to pee.” She snorted and nuzzled slightly further into his chest.

“Hmmm, you do that."

A few seconds later, there were snores coming from her frame, and Harry looked over at Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. "Don’t laugh, I have to pee! Help me move her."

Harry pushed at Hermione’s shoulder, and she flopped a little bit onto the back of the couch. Ron doubled over in another round of giggles, and Harry hissed, "Ron, I swear to god- if I start laughing I’m gonna piss! You gotta- oh my god- help!"

At this point, Harry had started laughing and tried to slip out from under his girlfriend. Instead of quietly moving her without waking her, she fell and glanced her head off the arm of the couch. A brief moment of panic ensued, in which Harry and Ron both tried to check on her at once, and only succeeded in bonking their heads together.

Ron was gasping through peals of laughter as he grabbed onto Harry to avoid falling off the couch. "Oh- oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god. Is- is she- fuck- is she okay? Harry, you fucking idiot, check her head."

"She’s fine, dipshit. Fuck, that could have been so bad, shit.” Harry had sobered for the moment that it took to remember the diagnostic spell to make sure that Hermione was actually okay, and upon confirmation he sank back into the humor of the situation.

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe that happened. Good god.” He wiped his eyes and then got up to actually use the bathroom.

“Don’t get a concussion in there, Harry, the last thing we need is two of them.” Ron called after him, and he responded with a one fingered salute in the general direction of his boyfriend. He heard Ron’s collapse against the couch as he closed the bathroom door.

It was as he was staring at the green tiling on the bathroom floor that he found himself reflecting on the fact that if that had happened a few months ago, it would have gone much worse. Any injuries sustained by the three of them were largely blind territory that brought back horrible memories for the worst of the months after the war. It was remarkable that they could laugh through it, now.

When he came out to stick his still slightly damp hands under Ron’s jumper, he found Ron and Hermione curled up together, softly snoring. He smiled and climbed onto their couch next to them, levitating a blanket over the three of them as he went. It was a good night.

The next morning, he woke up first. They’d ended up tangled closer together in sleep, but he was still on the edge and managed to slip out to start breakfast and find the paracetamol for the three of them.

Breakfast was quieter than usual, with lots of gestures and grunts when someone wanted something. Wine hangovers were no joke. Later in the day, they went out to the garden together to weed, and Hermione suggested gardening as a potential profession. Harry vetoed, with the reasoning that he got to do it enough at home.

Ron bounced off that logic to suggest Quidditch, and they had the first of what would end up as their two final options. The other was working as a professor, which Harry took a full week to warm up to the idea of.

“I don’t know, becoming a professor seems like kind of a big deal. First of all, you’re shaping students’ whole lives, and second of all wouldn’t I need, like, higher education?"

"Oooh, good point, actually. I believe you would need to get a mastery in the subject that you want to teach, which you can obtain by apprenticing under an expert in the field. I think that was in Hogwarts: A History? It might have come from somewhere else, I’m not sure. As for the other thing, I’ve seen you with kids, Harry. You’re brilliant. I don’t know that you even really need to worry about that quarter."

"Mate, it might be good for you to get a mastery, actually. They usually discuss them with seventh years at Hogwarts, so I don’t really know much about them. Charlie’s was how he got started in Romania, actually."

"Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. I always wondered if wizards had an equivalent to college, but I was a bit busy worrying about the dark wizard trying to kill me for most of my life, so I never got the chance to look it up.” Harry had actually considered asking McGonagall about it during his consultation on his future, but they’d started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts exams before he could mention it.

“Harry, you should write McGonagall about it. She’s always looking for new teachers, and even if you don’t end up wanting to do it, she can give you advice on how to start looking for a mastery, which you’ll pretty much need for most jobs, anyway."

With that, they’d settled the matter. He wrote to McGonagall, and she replied promptly with an invitation to her office to discuss it in person.

McGonagall had taken Dumbldore’s old office. Harry had known that she would, as Headmistress, but it still shocked him a little to see the space decorated so differently. Minerva McGonagall was a practical woman, and as such had no need for random devices scattered about the room. He walls were lined with shelves full of books of many kinds, and her fire was roaring. She and Harry sat across from each other in matching armchairs that Harry swore must have had some kind of charm on them, because they were the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in.

"Professor-” Harry started, and then stopped. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about this meeting, on unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite his teacher anymore, and he didn’t know how to approach that.

“You can call me Minerva, Harry. You are no longer my student.” The way she said it was not unkind, but he still felt lightly chastised. “I believe you wanted to discuss how to proceed in finding a career in the wizarding world?"

"Um. Yes. Well. Minerva- hmmm, yeah that tastes strange. Minerva, I’ve been thinking that it would be a good idea to get myself back out into the world, starting with a job. Ron, Hermione, and I have been fine in our cottage, but sometimes it- I just feel like it’s time. I’m getting a bit restless, I think."

Minerva looked amused at his rambling. "I know how that feels. Did you know that after Elphinstone and I got married, I took a break from teaching?"

"Really?” Harry was genuinely surprised, because he couldn’t really imagine Minerva as a house wife.

“Yes, really. I took a year off to take care of our home and try my hand at being a stay at home wife. A year was about all I could stand, honestly. I ended up going back to teaching the following September, I was lucky enough that Albus had been unable to fill my position beyond a temporary professor. I loved our house and I loved spending time with my husband, but I found it difficult to be alone all day and trying to productively fill my days. I also missed my students with no small amount of fierceness."

"I definitely know how that feels. We have plenty of things to do but it’s so easy to get distracted without the structure of school."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how much do you know about masteries, Harry? I know that you and your peers all missed our usual talks about them, but you are also living with one Hermione Granger, who I am sure knows a fair amount about them through the pure virtue of planning three years ahead at least at all times."

Minerva said it with humor and fondness in her voice, and Harry chuckled. "You’re not wrong. I know that it’s a bit like muggle college, and that it’s essentially an apprenticeship? I am a little bit confused about what one would do if they got to their mastery and found out that they’d picked something that they actually don’t like as much as they thought they did- for muggles they would just change their major, but if you’re working with one specific person because of their expertise in the subject that you’ve chosen, what do you do?"

"That’s a good point. Most students have at least an idea of what they want to do based on what classes they liked while they were in school, but many don’t. Towards the end of seventh year, we allow students to start trying out different concentrations. Many will start to work with teachers in subjects that they like to see if they like the subject as much as they think they do. If we don’t have anyone specializing in the subject that they are thinking of, we can, more often than not, find someone who is willing to allow them to tail their work for a week or so to see if that’s something they like. We encourage students to look into at least three different masteries so that they can fully explore their options. This helps most students decide where they’ll end up, but even if you get to where you want to be and then decide that it actually isn’t for you, it’s not nearly as difficult to try something new as it would seem."

"Good lord, that it a lot of information.” Minerva tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “So, if I start where I am now, without any weeks of tailing anyone and a bit beyond graduation, what do I do?"

"Well, I might suggest taking remedial courses for the year that you missed, to start. It might help some with the boredom that you were talking about earlier, and you are a bright young man. I have no doubt that you will find you can complete the courses in far less time than it would take you to complete a full school year. We thought about offering students an option to complete an extra 'eighth’ year, but ultimately decided to keep Hogwarts at its usual seven years, and instead look into alternate options for them to finish. That September, most of our older students weren’t ready to return to the school anyway. War takes its tolls."

"Isn’t that just ridiculously true? We were all wrecks for months, rather a bit. In the end Hermione pushed us to start going to therapy, and that helped loads. As for the completing the courses, I think that’s a good idea- I could probably do them with Hermione and Ron, Hermione’s been trying to figure out the logistics of finishing seventh year since it occurred to her that we never did, nevermind the fact that she’s performing spells of that level since fifth year."

"I’ve been trying to remember that that is a letter I need to send out to everyone, though I keep forgetting. Even this far down the line, we’re still working through castle repairs and damages. There is always so much to do… well, that’s no excuse for slacking, regardless. I’ll have to add it to the list."

She pulled out a piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and began to write on it with a quill also pulled from the ether.

Harry was deservedly very impressed. "That was awesome, professor- what spell was that?"

"I am no longer your professor, Harry. That is a useful little spell Filius taught me… "

Their visit went on, with Minerva imparting far too much wisdom for Harry to ever be able to remember it all. They discussed a wide variety of topics, and McGonagall seriously considered all of the options that he had looked into, and was a particular fan of the quidditch idea. "Even if you don’t end up doing it as a career, it’s an excellent way to stay in shape. Far too many of my students simply stop playing when they decide on an office job, such a shame, and so much wasted potential as well."

That particular comment sparked a long discussion about the merits of playing quidditch recreationally, which led to them talking about the professor’s league at the school. Harry was shocked that he hadn’t known about it as a student, had never heard it mentioned, and Minerva laughed at him for it. Apparently there were many secrets of the staff and school that students didn’t know about.

When he left with several biscuits tucked away in a container for travel to bring to Ron and Hermione, he felt better. He was almost entirely decided on what to do for his apprenticeship, and he had a solid plan for his next few years. After the uncertainty of being on the run for a year combined with the certainty that he wouldn’t live past 17, it felt good to know what he was going to do, and additionally know that it had nothing to do with dark wizards. It was rare for him to be anything resembling normal.

Ron and Hermione listened animatedly to his recollection of the meeting. Hermione was especially delighted to find that they’d have a way to complete their schooling, while Ron was relieved that it was from home. "Gotta be honest, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. It’s lovely, and in a special way it will always be home, but I think there are a tad too many memories lurking around corners for me to be completely comfortable there ever again."

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain he agreed. It was something he’d not considered, the memories contained within the school’s walls. Hogwarts was his home, and it likely would always be in his mind, the first place that he ever truly felt comfortable. But with how bad his PTSD had been, and still was on occasion, would he be able to live there? Walk its halls the way he had as a child? He wasn’t sure.

They started their schooling a month, later, when it became widely available. The three of them were in some of the same core classes, as they’d always been, but they were all taking different paths and therefore most of the time they spent with papers spread out around them at the dinner table that they never ate at were for actual working, not talking.

Ron was taking only what interested him, just enough courses to be able to get his degree. He tended to finish his work before the other three, and would go kiss the top of their heads as he got up to go start dinner. Hermione had taken as many courses as she could fit, as always. It was almost worse than third year, because the courses weren’t held in person. She had taken that to mean that if she could find the time for it in her personal schedule, she could fit it in.

Ron and Harry had talked her down from taking all available courses. She’d ended up with a fairly large courseload regardless, but that was to be expected.

Harry was, as ever, in the middle. He found himself with a courseload he was happy with, a few extra classes that he thought could be interesting, but not so many that he was constantly doing work. That worked out well for him, because he’d taken an herbology elective having to do with the growing of potions ingredients in the wild. It turned out that understanding the ingredients in a deeper sense than just their names was immensely helpful for potions. He’d never been doing better in a potions class without cheating, and he’d also begun to actually understand some of the notes Snape had left in the margins of the stolen book.

They got through their class work and watched movies and made tea and went for walks and before they knew it, the holiday season was upon them. Their classes all had breaks for Christmas, and they took full advantage of that time.

"What d'you think we should get Molly this year?” Harry through the question out from his position on the couch, draped across Ron and Hermione’s laps.

“That’s gotta be some sign of adulthood, having to give your parents Christmas gifts.” Ron’s fingers paused their carding through his hair as he digested the question, and then he resumed. “I bet she’d like some of that cleaner we saw the other day, the one that changes scent."

"Oooooh, good point. I was thinking maybe some new knitting patterns, actually- I found a bunch in the clearance section in the bookshop we went to the other day.” Hermione started diligently scribbling on the parchment in front of her under the “parents” section of her well-organized christmas shopping/gift ideas list. She turned to her boys to say something more, but as she opened her mouth the tinny sound o a timer going off filled the room “That;s your turn done then, Harry. Scoot."

"Awww, but I’m so comfortable, 'Mione.” Harry pleaded to Hermione’s uncaring eyes as he heaved himself upwards out of Ron’s lap. Ron scooted down the couch to take Hermione’s place as she laid down to replace Harry.

“Mhmmm. Well, it’s my turn to be comfortable.” Harry’s fingers found their way to her hair as her quill and parchment floated in the air by her head. “Alright, where was I? Okay. Ummmm, right! Under Molly, I want: "knitting needles, pattern books, and scent changing cleaning spray."

The quill started scratching across the page as Hermione explained, "The other day over tea she mentioned to me that she hadn’t a good way to organize her needles, and usually has so many projects going that half the time she doesn’t know which ones are already in use and which aren’t. I think we should get her a new set so that she can have doubles AND an organizing system. I’m sure if we look hard enough we can find a case that has an extension charm on it, or we can do one ourselves."

Ron looked down at Hermione with a smile on his face. "Brilliant. Alright, who’s next?"

Harry glanced at the parchment hanging in the air to see which space was blank. "Looks like we don’t have anything for Ginny, which should be easy enough. She was complaining about her broom the other day, but I know she likes the model too well to want a new one. I was thinking a broom servicing kit?”

The evening went on like that, and they eventually had at least a rough sketch of what they would be looking for when they went out to do Christmas shopping. They found a fair amount of the things actually on the list, and were able to get suitable substitutes where they couldn’t.

Their Christmas plans were this: they spent Christmas Eve at Hermione’s aunt’s house. She explained to them that her mother’s siblings had a rotation going, and that next year the three of them would likely be required to come to her parents’ aid with hosting. Her family was surprisingly large, and she told them that they tended not to gather for anything other than holidays. She never talked about them because there weren’t any other wizards in the family.

They found out that this was not actually true on Christmas Eve, when Ron walked in on one of the cousins changing her kid’s diaper with a spell. It was a rather awkward conversation, while Ron tried to explain that he was a wizard and she tried to obliviate him. Eventually, the truth came out: her cousins were American, and hadn’t been particularly affected by the war. They, in all honesty, had been remarking to each other all night that Harry looked oddly familiar to them, but had been unable to parse out exactly what it was.

They ended up setting up a lunch date for all of them for later that week before they apparated back to Minnesota. The cousins were very excited to find that there was another wizard in the family, and Hermione was similarly vibrating.

“I can’t believe, all this time, and I didn’t even know! I knew it would make sense that some of my relatives would be magical, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I obviously wasn’t going to sniff around and risk them finding out just to see if they really were muggles or not. Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I wonder what schooling looks like in America? I mean, I know the basic principles, of course, but I would love specifics. It’s such a big country, and Ilvermorny is the main school that we hear of, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have travelled that far just for school, that doesn’t make sense, does it?"

”'Mione, we’re having lunch with them later this week. I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to answer your questions. We certainly don’t know the answers.“

Ron nodded as he hoisted the backpack holding their gifts in it higher on his shoulders. They were walking to the closest apparition point. According to Harry, who was using google maps, they were about 5 minutes away.

"Turn left here. For tonight we should just focus on trying to get ourselves home, I think. Did we end up finishing the wrapping for tomorrow?"

"Oh shit, I forgot, actually. We ran out of wrapping paper. We only have a few left, but still. Should we find a Tesco and stop in? It’s not too late, is it?"

"They’re open til 10.” Ron stopped walking for a moment to consult his watch on the time, which read out 9:37 p.m.

“Alright, let’s go then."

The tesco had one roll of wrapping paper with lumberjack Santa Claus’s dancing across it with axes. They were not literally dancing of course- there was a Tesco in London with a wizard section where they might have found something similar, but they hadn’t the time to go to it.

The next day, George refolded his "hot santa claus” wrapping paper into a hat and wore it all through dinner. Molly was too happy that he was smiling to scold him about it, although she did have to excuse herself at one point. When Harry came in to check on her, she was crying lightly into a handkerchief.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be alright- he just- oh, for the love of- he looks very much like his brother.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath. A weak smile graced her face as she looked up at Harry. “It’s hard, still. It’s been getting better, but- well, I didn’t think they could even survive without each other. I used to look at the two of them, always together, always finishing each other’s sentences, and think, god, they’re just like my brother’s, and oh, thank goodness they’ll never have to be apart. I just- I just wish I’d been right.” Her voice broke a little bit on the last word, and she started dabbing at her eyes again.

“I know. I remember in school, they were always together. No one thought they should ever be apart, but. I don’t know. George is doing- not well, but- he’s surviving. That’s all we can ask of him. That’s all we can ask of any of us, really. I think he’s being happy in Fred’s memory, instead of in spite of it, you know?"

"Oh, I know, dear, I know. It’s just difficult. I’ll get over myself, I just needed a moment. I love seeing him smile again, it’s like Fred’s back, just for a little. Fetch me a glass of water?"

Harry nodded and swiftly vacated the room. Even after all his therapy, he was still shit with emotions. He found Arthur and informed him of the situation, sending him back to his wife with the water she requested. He knew that was the right decision when he saw Molly again, tears dried, laughing at something Arthur was saying. Her arm was laced through his, a glass of wine in her hand as she leaned against him on the couch.

He took a minute to reflect that he rarely saw Molly so relaxed, and especially not since the war. He was glad that they’d healed enough at this point that they could, at the very least, enjoy Christmas. His musing were interrupted when Ron came up to him from behind and hugged him. "We’re going to play pick-up, you’re on my team. Ginny’s pissed about it, come on."

He turned into his boyfriend with a smile on his face and give him a peck. "Excellent, let’s go crush her."

Ginny, who was training to be a professional quidditch player, soundly kicked their asses. George and Bill helped too.

As punishment for losing, Ron, Harry, and Charlie went skinny dipping into the pond on the property, but ended up just getting everyone else wet until they all went swimming together, whooping and laughing.

It was a good night, and Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. He was content to lay there and wait for them to wake up, listening to their breathing and looking at the rise and fall of their chests. They were here, and they’d made it through- he hadn’t thought they would. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he’d done out the math and he had been so certain that they wouldn’t make it through the war all together- something would have to give. Thank god he was wrong, pseudo death or no. He wanted to be nowhere else than where he was, listening to the Weasley household wake up on a Christmas morning.

They all got up eventually, slowly stumbling their way into the kitchen as the lure of coffee and sausages called to them. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy to have all of her birds back in the nest. Percy kissed her cheek as he left for work, the only one who hadn’t been able to get the day off. The rest of them sat down to eat.

Overall, it was one of the best Christmases he’d had in a long time, one of the few that he’d truly been able to enjoy. It was reminiscent of some of his first Christmases at Hogwarts, the first ones that he’d ever known what it was like to get presents that weren’t hand-me-downs or worthless garbage.

He thought about that feeling of being new to a world of literal magic, and the fact that the most magical part of it all had been that he’d had an out, that he’d been able to get far away from the Dursleys for 9 months. He liked this feeling better. Contentedly settled into his skin, with a wide and bright future set out in front of him. He couldn’t help but think that just maybe, there was nowhere better to be.

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vyther16 · 3 years

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WIP Tag Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @biwenqing (Thanks A!)

Okay, so, uh, this is going under a cut because I have a large chunk of wips just for fandom, but this says ALL wips, so original works are coming too. Sorted by Fanfiction/original Work, then by fandom/original universe, and if there are multiple AUs

... there are 63 docs on here, not counting some completely abandoned docs or anything from Breathe AU. (Breathe AU would bump me to 70-something, and abandoned docs would get me to well over 100)

I’m not tagging anyone (much less 63 people), but if you want to, go ahead!

anyway, here goes :)

Fic (35 docs)

Coldest Girl in Coldtown (1)

Elisabet Lives AU

Joy of Life/Qing Yu Nian (4)

0--Prologue

QYN AUs and Scenes

Untitled Document

WIP Wednesday 9 Dec 2020 Cont’d

(No Breathe AU bc y’all already know just about everything about it, and anything left is spoilers)

Marvel (1)

Of Child Soldiers and New Beginnings

Mo Dao Zu Shi/Chen Qing Ling (9)

IDK I just have feeling about these characters and the found family dynamics that happen everywhere

MDZS/Untamed Hogwarts Houses

Tang Yiguo Lives AU

Text Fic

The Deconstruction of Wei Wuxian

Time Travel fic (Verse. A)

Time Travel Fic (Vers. B)

Untitled Document

Wen Qing is the Fierce Corpse

Wen!wwx au (11)

01: Let’s Hang Out Sometime

31: Today’s special: torture

Burning of Cloud Recesses

Lan Lessons

Long lost cousins

Murder Turtle

Rebuilding

Sunshot

Wangji & Xichen Convo

WWX joins the Wens

Xuanyu/Yijun

One Piece (2)

Sanji & Robin Fic

Trafalger D Water Law prides himself on being calm, cool, and collected at all times

Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty (1)

Wang Zhi gets a fckn nap

The Wolf/Lang Dianxia (2)

Screw the last three Eps fic

Tag Fic

Word of Honor/Shan He Ling

Jing An Lives AU (4)

Canon!

Jing An Lives

Plot? I Guess?

Untitled Document

Yuwu (1)

Hi my name is: Murong Chuyi Deserved Better

Original Works (28 docs)

Echo (4)

Echo Drabble Collection

Echo Master Document (that’s a lie btw it is not the master anymore)

Story about Jax & co

Prologue--COMPLETED (maybe?)

FanUni (12)

Diamond in the Korian Court ft. Jokam PoV

Diamond’s Story Opt. 1

Diamond’s Story Opt. 2

Drunk Polaris Extended Version

Expendable (Kieran and Jokam)

Indra & Claramae ft. The Flowering Basilisk

Of the Moon and Stars

Sarathae & Elandorr

Story & Character Interaction Ideas

Strategy Meeting

The murder of Araquiel

VyKaela

Novam Rem (5)

28: Such wow. Many normal. Very oops.

Betrayal Take 2

Clementine Aloysius Prescott

PP1

What We May Be

On the Topic of Love (7)

03: My way or the highway (there are two of these for some reason?)

A History of Jameela Ramza al-Arain

Chance in the Garden

Kieran & Declan save Nick from his “family”

Nick & Pierce

Panic attack--Nick

Pierce & Lils run away

Okay, seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I think I might be like, actually insane.

Anyway, please ask about them! I want to talk about them!

#tag game #biwenqing #wip wednesday #a day late and not fic but still #wip list #in which i reveal that i have a slight problem #namely: how the hell do so many stories fit into my head?

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lchufflepuffcorn · 4 years

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The Hunted (Brett Talbot x F!Reader) PT.1

Author’s note: Henlo Friend!! I just wanted to assure you that I did NOT forget about part two of Her the Scott x Reader, it’s in the writing I promise. But, I also want to say that this part one has been in the making for YEARS so it’s time for me to share it (Now that the Fandom is nearly dead...)

Words: 1508

Warning: None for the moment. Fainting, mention of blood. The gif is not mine, it belongs to its owner/creator.

Masterlist Original work Masterlist

For days, (Y/N) had been walking. She didn't know where she was going, in all honesty. She didn't really want to know how either. The girl didn't even know if she would be safe once she reached the place she was supposed to stay at. Of course, the girl knew what to do if a situation like that happened. She had to meet with the alpha of a Wolfpack with which her mother had been friends. The only problem was that she didn't know where the Satomi pack was at the moment. The perks of not being sedentary. So she walked, hoping that she would find a trace of them before the hunters found her.

She was growing weaker and weaker by the minute. Her tracking spell was beginning to fade. She still hadn't found any sign of Satomi's pack.

"Maybe you should start searching elsewhere." Stated a voice that made (Y/N) jump in surprise and releasing a squeak of fear while doing so. The girl stared at a little girl, not much older than six or seven years old, that was standing before her. She held a stuffed toy in the form of a wolf looking all innocent in her with long nightdress in pure white. The only thing that made her look out of place was the fresh-looking bloody scratch that was going down the girl's chubby face to the start of her chest.

''What do you mean?'' Asked (Y/N), trying to sound less scared than she actually was.

''Maybe they moved on.''

For an instant, (Y/N) wasn't sure if the little girl was joking. But the seriousness that was appearing on her face made her reconsider. She tried to look away from the child. But it seemed to her that the girl was continually trying to see her face.

''I'm Lucy. What's your name?''

''I'm (Y/N).'' The answer was muttered half-heartedly.

''That's a cute name. Do you want me to find who you are searching for?''

For an instant, (Y/N) seriously considered the offer. But then, she remembered what her mother had once told her about ghosts: They will always offer you something for a favour in exchange. The girl had heard many scary stories about ghosts asking to kill people and getting revenge when they didn't find their way to go or took too much time for the action to occur. Shivers went down her spine.

''No, thank you. I'm a big girl, you know, I can find them by myself.''

The ghost didn't seem utterly happy with her answer, but she smiled gleefully nonetheless.

''Well, if you need help, just call my name!'' With that, she disappeared into the night.

Now alone in the dark and the cold of the night, (Y/N) found herself regretting the departure of little Lucy. She had now no other choice but to walk once again. The wind was unforgiving, and even though she was insanely tired (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to sit down a tree and sleep a bit. She was uncomfortable and didn't trust the ground beneath her feet. She hated insects and humidity since forever.

The sun had started to rise, colouring the sky in a blueish grey shade. She was hungry, cold and sleepy, but she couldn't stop walking straight ahead. Hands reached from behind her, circling her waist with one arm and a hand clamped over her mouth. Trashing around, trying to get out of the grip on her, (Y/N) even tried to bite her assailant. It didn't work, to say the least.

''If you don't stop moving, I'll break your neck.'' Whispered a gruff voice in her heard. She went limp in the arms of her aggressor. ''Good girl.'' He praised her with a calm tone.

The girl's mind was racing. Her eyes were searching frantically all around her. Trying to find a way to get out and maybe escape death. She was prepared for the worst.

''Come on, Noah. Satomi didn't say to attack her.'' complained another, more feminine, voice-over (Y/N)'s shoulder.

''She said to bring to her whoever was wandering around the territory. That's what I'm doing.'' Responded to the man, Noah, releasing a bit of his hold on (Y/N)'s mouth. The latter reacted strongly.

Bitting the boy with all the might she had left, (Y/N) could taste blood on her tongue. The boy hissed, releasing her from his grip, (Y/N) fell harshly on the ground. Her heart was racing through her hears, her face was flushed, and (Y/N) was shaking.

''I have to talk with Satomi!'' Her voice was rapping out of her throat. Noah, the boy, eyed her with a suspicious face before turning to face his companion. It was as if he was asking for her opinion.

''Please, it's important.''

It was the first time (Y/N) used the word please out of a simple demand. She wasn't used to pleading. Her mother always had everything sorted for shelter and food: money and dressing. Everything was always provided beforehand. Noah turned again toward her before nodding. The girl with him smiled at her.

''I'm Lori!'' She said, walking to shake (Y/N)'s hand. ''Nice to meet you, what's your name?''

The girl gave it to her. Lori making most of the conversation as they walked. Noah was slowly but surely piercing holes in the back of (Y/N)'s skull with his glare.

''What do you need Satomi for?'' He finally asked.

(Y/N)'s mind started to race even more. It never stopped since that night, to be honest. The answer she came up with the fastest was: ''Family matters.''

Her mother always said that werewolves had a thing to smell lies. And that was a lie, was it? She did have trouble, and it was a family matter. Noah scoffed but didn't say anything else. Maybe it was because of Lori's glare she sends his way. (Y/N) was having trouble keeping her eyes open, and mind was beginning to become all fuzzy. She couldn't answer Lori's question before falling asleep.

''Are you alright?''

''Yeah, what happened?''

''Who's she?''

''Someone should go get Satomi and Brett!''

That was what woke (Y/N) up. She saw all blurry, and the back she was on kept moving around. Her neck was hurting. She was also pretty sure that the ribs that got punched a week earlier were either broken or crushed. Anyway, it hurt like a bitch.

She was placed on a comfy texture soon enough, and rushed steps could be heard outside the room pretty much the entirety of earth was in. Maybe it was because (Y/N) eyes saw all blurry still that it seemed like millions of heads were over her. She wasn't really sure. A mature woman came into her view, and a boy of about (Y/N)'s aged popped into her view.

''You found her like that?'' Asked the woman.

Noah denied it. ''She was awake when we got her. She just passed out all of a sudden.''

''Well, don't overwhelm her.'' The woman's voice became deep and controlling. ''Get behind or get out if you're not concerned.'' Only three head stayed in the room after her words. ''(Y/N), are you alright?''

The girl wasn't exactly sure how the woman knew her name. Still, she was fine with whatever was keeping her hot and comfy at the moment. She hadn't slept for days... all (Y/N) wanted to do was close her eyes again. ''(Y/N)?''

She forced her eyes open once again, straining her neck so it would hold her head straight. She couldn't see anything clearly, and she was pretty sure her speech would be slurred a little bit. '' 'M not... h-hurted... hurt.'' The girl managed to say.

''She said she wanted to talk to you.'' Added Lorie in a hurried whisper. The older woman, who now (Y/N) supposed was Satomi, grunted quietly has an answer. She descended to be at eye level with the girl.

''Can you tell me what happened?'' Asked Satomi.

(Y/N) nodded, the movement was a little sloppy, but the message went across anyway. She straightened her back and closed her eyes to keep them from crying of exhaustion.

''Mom said to get you if things went south.'' The woman nodded.

''Where's your mom now?''

(Y/N) shook her head. ''I don't know. When she heard them, she sent me out and running for you.''

''Who's them?'' Asked a boy's voice, deeper than Noah's and a little bit more friendly than Noah's too. (Y/N) heard Lorie whimper a 'Brett' indignity, but she didn't take any offence.

''I think they were hunters.'' Said the girl, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to see clearer. ''I know we were followed for a while, but mom never said.''

Satomi rose, towering her with her height.

''I'll go see for your mother, (Y/N). In the meantime, Brett, you're in charge, find her a bed. She looks like she's going to faint again. Just tell me the last place your mother was that you know of.''

(Y/N) did so, and then, she let her eyes close while Satomi was still talking.

(Patreon) (Ko-fi)

#brett talbot #brett x reader #brett talbot x reader #f!reader #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf #serie #teen wolf serie #teen wolf brett #teen wolf brett x reader #love #romance #cute #angst

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can-u-imagine-that · 5 years

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Title: Immortal;

Fandom: The Avengers;

Character: Steve;

Note: Y/N: Your Name;

Warning: Cursing;

Request: None;

Author’s note: Soulmate AU where the older one of the soulmates stop aging at 20 and they only start aging again when they meet the other. And guess what... the soulmate is Captain America.

You always wondered what the fuck was wrong with your soul-fucking-mate.

Now, to be fair... it was taking way to long for you two to meet. You knew sometimes it took years, but c’mon...

75 years was too much.

WAY too much.

And you weren’t even sure anymore if that number was right. After the 60th year you stopped paying attention because they were probably really old by now. You saw so many things change and happen during those years. You saw your school friends grow old with their own soulmates, saw most of your family members die. Made new friends along the years.

You never heard of anyone with a similar case to yours and oh man, how hard you searched. Usually it took a few years, but never as long as you and your soulmate were taking.

At the beginning you dreamed of how special your meeting would be. People said that you could feel your body change when you meet your soulmate. And that they would know it was you in a heartbeat. You were even tired of hearing the descriptions. You had seen it happen so many times. But it never happened to you.

After the world learned of the existence of people with powers and even aliens you started to wonder if your soulmate wasn’t caught in all that stuff but shook the idea out of your head in a few days. There was no way someone as simple as you would have such a special soulmate. They were probably just old anyway. Maybe some kind of weirdo that didn’t leave the house too much.

Who knows.

You sighed, looking out of the window of the coffee shop you were sitting at drifting your attention out of the newspaper in your hands. Even though you lived through all the changes in those decades you weren’t really a fan of using cellphones, call old fashioned, but the thing just created a huge gap between peoples relations. You hated it.

You already felt alone normaly.

All of sudden there’s a huge sound of glass shattering with a tud.

When you look over the window on the other side of the coffee shop you see a man all dressed in black, getting up of the ground from probably being throw into the shop. He is heavily armed and looks around the place, pointing his gun at the customers, saying that if anyone tries to escape he’ll shot. People try to move around but he shots the ceiling, telling everyone to stay put or the next targes will be someone’s head. He as an insane look on his eyes, so no one moved or spoke.

He screams to whoever is outside - probably police or even S.H.I.E.L.D - that he has hostages and if they attack him again a bomb will go off and the whole block will become fire and ash with him.

Soon three more armed men with the same uniform went through the door. Two stayed near them and one went into the kitchen. You heard gunshots as they found employees trying to escape from the backdoor. You cringed at the sound of someone suffering before actually dying.

“STAY QUIET ALL OF YOU!” the first man yelled when people started to whisper and let small cries come out of their mouths.

Your breath becomes caught in your throat as you see a little girl by herself on the couch of the kids area of the coffee shop. She starts crying earning a glare from the man.

Scanning the area you met with a woman’s terrified eyes. She is standing just outside the bathroom area, frozen. She didn’t want to get shot right in front of her daughter but the little girl was crying loud now and you could see the man getting pissed. By the crazy look on his eyes you could see that he wouldn’t mind killing anyone that got on his nerves.

Maybe that’s how I’m meant to die.

Taking a sharp breath you got up slowly, lifting your arms.

“YOU! STOP RIGHT NOW!” he pointed the gun to you. The fear spread on your body, but you managed to not crumble to the ground on your weak knees.

“I’ll just soothe her. I promise.” you said with a surprising calm voice “Please.”

“STAY THERE!” he warned again, turning to the girl “STOP FUCKING CRYING!”

“Please. Let me soothe her.” you took a few more steps before the gun was pointed at you again.

“STOP WALKING!”

“If you keep yelling she’ll not stop crying...” you kept trying to sound calm, taking another careful step to the side.

Just three more and you’d be able to reach her.

You didn’t have to finish because soon you felt little arms on your legs as the girl crawled to you, finding comfort on hiding behind your calf. You kneeled, still looking at the man, taking the girl in your arms and sitting cross legged right where you were, bringing her into your lap. She cried and asked for her mommy who only stared at you, her eyes full of gratitude.

Thankfully you had a hell lot of experiences dealing with kids, since you had many nephews and godchildren along the years.

“Shh, your mommy is there, but right now we can’t go to her. We have to be quiet...” you whispered to her, still feeling the gun pointed at you “Please, calm down...”

Your voice was calm and gentle while you rubbed small circles into her back murmuring reasuring words, until soon her sobbs turned into whimpers and then she finally stopped, still holding you tightly by your neck.

“Attention. Release the hostages and we may negotiate with you.”

“HYDRA doesn’t negotiate.” he answered.

Holy shit, HYDRA.

You were so screwed.

Even though you didn’t met your soulmate you had had a good life, really. You could not say you’d die happy, since you hadn’t met them, but you were satisfied at least.

Just as you thought that, three shots were heard.

The two man at the door feel with their heads clearly bleeding and the one in front of you stumbled with a bullet on his shoulder dropping his gun. The one close to the kitchen made his way to the front, grabbing the little girl’s mother by her arm, pointing the gun to her back.

“NO! TAKE ME, NOT HER!” you cryied, getting up just as he got close to you, still with the girl “Please...”

The man eyed you suspiciously but complied as a willing hostage would be easier to control.

The mother sheed tears as her daughter was handed to her by you. The girl clung to her neck and the woman sobbed a small “thank you”.

You nodded feeling the gun being pointed to your head and your arms firmly squeezed behind your back as he led you to the front of the huge broken window.

There were many police cars and black SUV’s. You could see guns pointed towards you and the man while someone you recognized from TV as Nick Fury stood a little ahead from the barrier created by the police.

“Look, we can either do this the easy way or the hard one. It’s your choice, pal!” he said, waving his hands “Now, let the girl go before I decide to call my backup to end you!”

“We’re not letting anyone go!” the other man howled from behind you “We’ll burst this hole block if we have too!”

Nick shrugged with a smug grin on his face and before you knew, a sound was heard again as the man who had just answered barked in pain and fell with a tud to the ground.

The man holding you hostage turned towards the sound and you closed your eyes at the brusque movement, feeling sick in your stomach because fuck he would surely shot you now.

Then as fast as you turned someone grabbed the gun right from the hand of the HYDRA agent. You lost your hearing for a while after a gunshot ringed right beside your head but felt whoever helped you push the man and hit him with something after spinning you to protect your body with theirs. You found youself pressed securely against a hard chest as the other hostages cheered.

“Hey... are you alright?” a gentle voice whispered to you and when you looked up it felt like time froze when you met with those beautiful blue eyes.

Your breath stopped and you could see that his did too as your heart started beating loudly. Your hole body shivered and you felt something in you shift as if his intense gaze made a piece of you work once again. If he wasn’t holding you, you were sure your knees would have buckled.

It was him.

Your soulmate.

Your soulmate was Captain America.

Captain America.

Steve Rogers.

You stared at each other for a while, drinking in the features and appreciating the lingering feeling of the soulmate’s bond for the first time. We was completely awestruck with how beautiful you were and how perfectly you fit into his arms, still comfortably placed in your waist as if they belonged there. Slowly your hands reached the mask that covered half of his face and you pulled it out, marveling at how perfect his features were.

His eyes drifted to your lips as your mouth parted and your first words to him rolled out of your tongue while your hands slid to rest in his chest.

“Fucking finally. Took you long enough.”

For a moment you could see that Captain America was dumbfounded with your attitude. But you couldn’t care less. You were happy, of course, but you just had to say it.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been around? Let me give you a hint. I’m supposed to be older than you.” you started with your eyes still locked into his, both completely ignoring everything happening around you. Thankfully people understood how the soulmate bond happened and didn’t try to intervene, leaving you be “Older than you! I thought I was immortal, Steve!”

He laughed, loving the way his name sounded from your voice.

“I’m sorry. I guess me being frozen didn’t really went well for you.”

“You can bet it. I was afraid you would be an really old man by now.”

Still smiling fondly he allowed his forehead to rest against yours and God it felt so natural you almost swooned.

“You know that technically we are both really old.” his voice brought goosebumps all over your body. Your hands reached his face as you were still mesmerized at how handsome he was.

“All on you!” you said, smiling back at him.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you... but first I have to know your name, don’t you think?” he was whispering now, his face inches from yours.

“Y/N... my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N...” he tested how your name felt in his lips and you even blushed because Captain America whispering your name almost as a mantra was something you had never imagined even on your craziest dreams. And it was enticing.

He grabbed your hand, bringing to his lips and kissing softly the back of it, making you blush even more.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my soulmate...”

“I could say the same but I’m still pissed.” you both laughed.

“We still have time to change that.”

“We better have, because after all these years you have a lot to compensate!” you winked, allowing him to caress your cheek slowly as he pulled your face closer to his once again. You saw a longing expression on his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

Through the bond you now shared, you felt how much he also wanted you in his life during those years. You could sense his anxiety waking up after being frozen, only to discover that so many years had passed and you were still out there, without understanding what possibly happened to the soulmate you never met. The distress of thinking he would never find you. You felt it all.

And he felt your lonliness, the nights you lost crying because you didn’t understand what you did to deserve such a lonely and long life. All the pleas you made in your sleep until the acceptance that you would always be alone came.

And you both felt as all the doubts and anxieties disappeared when your lips met for the first time. They molded perfectly together, finding a pace that you seemed to have rehearsed together for years. Your arms gripped the front of his uniform and he hugged you tightly, almost swiping you out of your feet.

Your eyes welled with tears at how right it felt to be with him.

And suddenly all your lonely years didn’t matter anymore.

Because he was finally with you.

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