#*gets plummeted into the ground*

[inkclover]

intended to do a little sketch but it snowballed into a colored piece aeeueuue— ♦️🪲

uwaaahh and some doodles both old and new

[kiisuuumii]

08:27

[blee-bleep]

so what if i go insane and draw diakko as these panels

[angelstrawbabie420]

i think i’m getting better at shielding myself from it though i can calm down pretty quick but like god is it triggering when i’m being screamed at and backed into corners and things are being thrown i go from ‘i’m fine’ to ‘i am going to die’ in .5 seconds it’s so frustrating

[wonder-worker]

Alice Perrers as Icarus and the sun

[whispering-kavka]

i've been thinking of some new names to use 🤔

[frownyalfred]

It actually makes a lot of sense that Bruce was one of the few people left standing in the crowd at Haly’s Circus when Dick’s parents died.

Watching two innocent people plummet to their deaths is gruesome. It’s shocking. It can be horribly traumatic, depending on the blunt force trauma of hitting the ground. They might not have died right away. They might have bled and made awful noises that were heard even above the sounds of the crowd.

But Bruce is Batman. Bruce saw his parents get murdered right in front of him. And he knows the sounds and sights of someone dying. He’s hardened himself to stay calm in a situation like that, both through trauma and practice.

I think the image of a young Dick Grayson making eye contact with the one unshaken person in the crowd is chilling. A man standing resolute when everyone else is screaming, sadness etched across his face. But not panic. Not confusion. Resignation, maybe.

[reasonsforhope]

"The man who has called climate change a “hoax” also can be expected to wreak havoc on federal agencies central to understanding, and combating, climate change. But plenty of climate action would be very difficult for a second Trump administration to unravel, and the 47th president won’t be able to stop the inevitable economy-wide shift from fossil fuels to renewables. 

“This is bad for the climate, full stop,” said Gernot Wagner, a climate economist at the Columbia Business School. “That said, this will be yet another wall that never gets built. Fundamental market forces are at play.”

A core irony of climate change is that markets incentivized the wide-scale burning of fossil fuels beginning in the Industrial Revolution, creating the mess humanity is mired in, and now those markets are driving a renewables revolution that will help fix it. Coal, oil, and gas are commodities whose prices fluctuate. As natural resources that humans pull from the ground, there’s really no improving on them — engineers can’t engineer new versions of coal. 

By contrast, solar panels, wind turbines, and appliances like induction stoves only get better — more efficient and cheaper — with time. Energy experts believe solar power, the price of which fell 90 percent between 2010 and 2020, will continue to proliferate across the landscape. (Last year, the United States added three times as much solar capacity as natural gas.) Heat pumps now outsell gas furnaces in the U.S., due in part to government incentives. Last year, Maine announced it had reached its goal of installing 100,000 heat pumps two years ahead of schedule, in part thanks to state rebates. So if the Trump administration cut off the funding for heat pumps that the IRA provides, states could pick up the slack. 

Local utilities are also finding novel ways to use heat pumps. Over in Massachusetts, for example, the utility Eversource Energy is experimenting with “networked geothermal,” in which the homes within a given neighborhood tap into water pumped from underground. Heat pumps use that water to heat or cool a space, which is vastly more efficient than burning natural gas. Eversource and two dozen other utilities, representing about half of the country’s natural gas customers, have formed a coalition to deploy more networked geothermal systems.

Beyond being more efficient, green tech is simply cheaper to adopt. Consider Texas, which long ago divorced its electrical grid from the national grid so it could skirt federal regulation. The Lone Star State is the nation’s biggest oil and gas producer, but it gets 40 percent of its total energy from carbon-free sources. “Texas has the most solar and wind of any state, not because Republicans in Texas love renewables, but because it’s the cheapest form of electricity there,” said Zeke Hausfather, a research scientist at Berkeley Earth, a climate research nonprofit. The next top three states for producing wind power — Iowa, Oklahoma, and Kansas — are red, too.

State regulators are also pressuring utilities to slash emissions, further driving the adoption of wind and solar power. As part of California’s goal of decarbonizing its power by 2045, the state increased battery storage by 757 percent between 2019 and 2023. Even electric cars and electric school buses can provide backup power for the grid. That allows utilities to load up on bountiful solar energy during the day, then drain those batteries at night — essential for weaning off fossil fuel power plants. Trump could slap tariffs on imported solar panels and thereby increase their price, but that would likely boost domestic manufacturing of those panels, helping the fledgling photovoltaic manufacturing industry in red states like Georgia and Texas.

The irony of Biden’s signature climate bill is states that overwhelmingly support Trump are some of the largest recipients of its funding. That means tampering with the IRA could land a Trump administration in political peril even with Republican control of the Senate, if not Congress. In addition to providing incentives to households (last year alone, 3.4 million American families claimed more than $8 billion in tax credits for home energy improvements), the legislation has so far resulted in $150 billion of new investment in the green economy since it was passed in 2022, boosting the manufacturing of technologies like batteries and solar panels. According to Atlas Public Policy, a research group, that could eventually create 160,000 jobs. “Something like 66 percent of all of the spending in the IRA has gone to red states,” Hausfather said. “There certainly is a contingency in the Republican party now that’s going to support keeping some of those subsidies around.”

Before Biden’s climate legislation passed, much more progress was happening at a state and local level. New York, for instance, set a goal to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions from 1990 levels by 40 percent by 2030, and 85 percent by 2050. Colorado, too, is aiming to slash emissions by at least 90 percent by 2050. The automaker Stellantis has signed an agreement with the state of California promising to meet the state’s zero-emissions vehicle mandate even if a judicial or federal action overturns it. It then sells those same cars in other states. 

“State governments are going to be the clearest counterbalance to the direction that Donald Trump will take the country on environmental policy,” said Thad Kousser, co-director of the Yankelovich Center for Social Science Research at the University of California, San Diego. “California and the states that ally with it are going to try to adhere to tighter standards if the Trump administration lowers national standards.”

[Note: One of the obscure but great things about how emissions regulations/markets work in the US is that automakers generally all follow California's emissions standards, and those standards are substantially higher than federal standards. Source]

Last week, 62 percent of Washington state voters soundly rejected a ballot initiative seeking to repeal a landmark law that raised funds to fight climate change. “Donald Trump’s going to learn something that our opponents in our initiative battle learned: Once people have a benefit, you can’t take it away,” Washington Governor Jay Inslee said in a press call Friday. “He is going to lose in his efforts to repeal the Inflation Reduction Act, because governors, mayors of both parties, are going to say, ‘This belongs to me, and you’re not going to get your grubby hands on it.’”

Even without federal funding, states regularly embark on their own large-scale projects to adapt to climate change. California voters, for instance, just overwhelmingly approved a $10 billion bond to fund water, climate, and wildfire prevention projects. “That will be an example,” said Saharnaz Mirzazad, executive director of the U.S. branch of ICLEI-Local Governments for Sustainability. “You can use that on a state level or local level to have [more of] these types of bonds. You can help build some infrastructure that is more resilient.”

Urban areas, too, have been major drivers of climate action: In 2021, 130 U.S. cities signed a U.N.-backed pledge to accelerate their decarbonization. “Having an unsupportive federal government, to say the least, will be not helpful,” said David Miller, managing director at the Centre for Urban Climate Policy and Economy at C40, a global network of mayors fighting climate change. “It doesn’t mean at all that climate action will stop. It won’t, and we’ve already seen that twice in recent U.S. history, when Republican administrations pulled out of international agreements. Cities step to the fore.”

And not in isolation, because mayors talk: Cities share information about how to write legislation, such as laws that reduce carbon emissions in buildings and ensure that new developments are connected to public transportation. They transform their food systems to grow more crops locally, providing jobs and reducing emissions associated with shipping produce from afar. “If anything,” Miller said, “having to push against an administration, like that we imagine is coming, will redouble the efforts to push at the local level.” 

Federal funding — like how the U.S. Forest Service has been handing out $1.5 billion for planting trees in urban areas, made possible by the IRA — might dry up for many local projects, but city governments, community groups, and philanthropies will still be there. “You picture a web, and we’re taking scissors or a machete or something, and chopping one part of that web out,” said Elizabeth Sawin, the director of the Multisolving Institute, a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit that promotes climate solutions. “There’s this resilience of having all these layers of partners.”

All told, climate progress has been unfolding on so many fronts for so many years — often without enough support from the federal government — that it will persist regardless of who occupies the White House. “This too shall pass, and hopefully we will be in a more favorable policy environment in four years,” Hausfather said. “In the meantime, we’ll have to keep trying to make clean energy cheap and hope that it wins on its merits.”"

-via Grist, November 11, 2024. A timely reminder.

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - During

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel was too late, and something was brewing. The fate of your wings rested in the balance and there was nothing left of him to reconcile with.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, injury, violence

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. The next part is going to be long guys <3 Thank you for reading all of this angst!!!

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The ground beneath Azriel’s feet must have disappeared. 

He was unstable, falling, plummeting into an unknown abyss. 

When he looked down, Azriel saw the plush carpet at his feet, but as he replayed Rhysand’s words—four words, echoing—the blur behind his eyes made the physical obsolete. We can’t find her, Rhysand had said, followed by a multitude of questions from Cassian that Azriel could not hear. Everything was buzzing and the carpet was gone. 

Where was Lucien? Azriel remembered that Lucien was to go with you. Where was he? 

He had to be dead because if he were alive and you were missing, Azriel would kill him himself. 

“Lucien,” Azriel spoke, his voice rough, interrupting the conversation he had not been part of. 

“What?” Rhysand asked. 

But Cassian ignored his High Lord’s confusion. “She was never bringing Lucien,” he growled, throwing his brother a sneer. “She only said that to make sure you went on your date. I told her I should’ve come. I told her—” 

Azriel had lost his breath. He was grappling for it, trying to make sense of Cassian’s words as his lungs began to burn, but you wouldn’t do that, would you? Why would you lie to him? Over something like this? 

“Cassian, enough,” Azriel gasped, the buzzing of his brother’s voice a constant barrier in the losing battle within his head. “Who’s looking for her? Where should we go?” 

Azriel was dressed in a ridiculous button-up shirt with slacks that now felt too tight on his legs. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and his shadows took advantage of the open space, trailing up to protect him from nothing. Because nothing was here—he wasn’t in danger. 

You were. 

Azriel had only gotten through drinks with Elain before the call from his High Lord sent him into the sky. He couldn’t remember if he apologized. Azriel’s shoes were pinching his feet. 

“I had just lost connection with her when I called you. I sent her to the northeast camp. There’s a possibility that—” 

Azriel was traveling through the shadows, darkness consuming him before Rhysand could finish his sentence. He should have grabbed Cassian for backup, but that was a thought Azriel would only have much, much later. 

His mind was on you—only on you. 

That wasn’t unnatural for Azriel; you were one of the most important people in his life and you had been in trouble before. Life-threatening, war-induced trouble, but somehow, this felt different. 

You had been distant lately. 

Azriel had noticed, but Azriel had also been so zeroed in on getting Elain’s attention that he figured he would have time to check on you in a few weeks. 

When he landed in the camp, the foreboding quiet made him consider that he might never get to check on you again. Illyrian camps were never quiet. There was always shouting or fighting or nagging mothers getting after their young. But the insects in the bushes could be heard in this camp, and Azriel paused amid his racing heart to make sense of the noise. 

And then he heard the scream. 

Your scream.

And he was running. 

His shoes groaned as they pounded into soft dirt and you screamed again. Azriel had never heard that sound come from you. The way it erupted into the air—it was as if it was ripped from your throat, evoked from nothing but agony. 

He pushed himself harder, faster, until the screams became closer and a small hut materialized on the horizon. The image of the quaint house brought Azriel relief, but that relief was short-lived because your screams had become tired in his journey. With each step, your voice broke more and more and Azriel didn’t even feel angry. 

The rage he expected to feel was consumed by the terror that gripped him. 

He ripped open the door and that terror only increased tenfold. 

Azriel was usually focused during battle, his mind razor-sharp. He was known for calculating every step, for remembering each life he took, and being able to recount each slice of his blade when asked for a report days later. Azriel was a warrior and a spy. 

But Azriel could not remember his actions. 

From the moment he opened the door and found you on the ground, surrounded by enemies and so broken, he lost the ability to calculate anything other than death. 

He figured a few must have gotten away because he vaguely registered that the door made a sound. But over the screams, that sound was inconsequential, and with the image of you before him, lying in your blood, chest only minutely rising and falling, everything else was inconsequential. 

He only remembered that the rage finally found him. 

Only when bodies littered the floor did the anger make way for the visceral fear that came with reaching for you—grabbing you as you let out small, weak sounds and took labored breaths. 

“Y/n?” Azriel stressed, eyes roving over your figure with haste that his hands couldn't match. He had to be careful; so much of you was broken. “Y/n,” he spoke again, as if the echo of your name would somehow fix you, snap you out of the hurt. 

Azriel’s breath quivered. His scarred hands hovered over your skin now, afraid to touch you more than to bring you into his arms. His fingers shook. Your wings—it was your wings. 

“You’re okay,” Azriel affirmed, whispering only to himself. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” 

Salt tainted the surface of his tongue, and Azriel then recognized that he was crying. Fat, heavy tears blurred his vision and fell into his mouth as he repeated his mantra into the stagnant air. 

Your wings looked beyond repair. When Hybern destroyed Cassian’s, the roots remained. The delicate flesh was burned and torn, but regrowth was still feasible.

Only small pieces of the membrane along your back remained. 

Azriel’s soul wept. 

You groaned, and Azriel stopped his inspection of your back, his hands brushing your hair off from where it stuck to your skin. 

“Y/n?” he tried again. “Can you hear me? I’m—I’m going to bring you home, okay? You’re going to be fine, I promise.” 

He shouldn’t have promised that. His voice broke as he spoke the words and Azriel knew he shouldn’t have promised that because you only let out a broken rendition of ‘my wings?’ that Azriel had no response to. He only squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to your temple before shadows consumed him once more. They had been rampaging around the pair, whispering worried, angry words in Azriel’s ear, but they remained faithful. 

They brought you home. 

Mor screamed first. 

He assumed everyone would be out looking for you, but Azriel hadn’t broken the connection to Rhysand’s mind, and they had been expecting him. His family stood before him as your blood stained the rug of his High Lord’s favorite sitting room. Rhysand was missing, gone to retrieve Madja, but Azriel was only looking for those he knew could help you. 

His throat caught on air as he frantically searched for Feyre in the room. When he saw her wide eyes, he let out a desperate, “Help her,” that sounded nothing like him. His High Lady’s shoulders rose and fell with hurried panic as she came forward and then hesitated. 

Azriel heard someone vomit in the corner of the room—Cassian, he thought—and Mor came to kneel beside him. 

“Feyre,” he sobbed. “Please. Please, try.” 

Mor was crying. Cassian had wiped his mouth and come to stand beside Feyre, but everyone was too afraid to touch you. You rested in Azriel’s arms, but even his palms remained face up and did not connect with your skin. He would break you more, he was sure of it. Your wings bent at odd angles and hung from your body by only tethered threads and no one knew what to do. 

Azriel thought that dying would be better than this. 

His button-up was stained red. 

“Fuck.” Rhysand’s voice rattled the air in the House. At some point, Feyre had broken her hesitancy and kneeled before you, a gentle glow emitting from her hands as she tried to stitch together the broken remains of your skin. When her mate appeared with the elder healer, she turned wild eyes towards him. Rhysand stood frozen, mimicking each person in the room, but he was the High Lord—a composed leader—so his reverie lasted only seconds before he was sent into action. 

“The table,” Rhysand demanded. “Lay her on the table.” 

No one moved. 

Azriel couldn’t stop looking at you. 

Madja then spoke, no, demanded, “Now.” 

The table was cleared, everything swiped to the floor with abandon. As gently as he could, Azriel rose from the floor on shaking legs and heaved you up with him, offering soft apologies as you cried out. He wished you would pass out from the pain, be free of it all, but the agonizing reality that you might not wake up struck him harder. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he whispered against your hair. His body ached. Azriel leaned you against the table as the other members of his family turned you on your stomach. He kneeled to meet your lidded gaze, your face pressed against the wood. “Madja’s going to fix it, okay?” 

The healer was giving orders—Cassian to get water, Mor to support your head, Feyre for support. It was all a buzz in Azriel’s ears. He licked his lips and tried to meet your eyes, but they were trailing off, unfocused. 

“Y/n?” he tried. “Angel?” A name he had dropped once Elain came into the picture. Your lashes fluttered. His attention peaked. “It’s okay, angel. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry—” 

Azriel was torn from his position on the ground, a heavy hand shoving him up and against the wall. His shadows remained caressing your skin, but a fist met Azriel's face and he lost sight of you. 

“This is your fault.” 

“Cassian!” Mor called, desperately pleading with no one. 

“It is,” Cassian seethed, his arm pressed to the Shadowsinger’s throat. “If he hadn’t been searching for something with a woman not even meant to be his, he would have been there. She would have said anything to ensure your happiness. Anything, Azriel.” 

Azriel blinked and Cassian’s face was inches from his own. “I didn’t—” 

“You have been blinded, brother. You’ve been blind for years and now this is the price.” 

“I don’t—what are you saying?” Azriel pleaded, trying and failing to look over Cassian’s broad wings to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Cassian, this is not the time,” Mor scolded, but the anguish burned so deeply in Cassian’s eyes that Azriel could tell he wasn’t hearing her. 

“She gave you everything,” his brother continued. “She—” 

Your scream punctuated the building tension in the room. Cassian whipped around and Azriel used the opportunity to shove him away, the Shadowsinger racing to your side once again. But, once again, he was pushed away. Rhysand held his shoulder back this time, shaking his head with a furrowed brow. 

The screams echoed in the room and they hurt. 

They hurt everyone. 

Feyre and Mor stood beside Madja, the three of them set to the fruitless task of saving your wings. A small part of Azriel spoke the truth that they were also just trying to save you. You had lost so much blood and he still knew nothing of your other injuries. 

“Rhys,” Azriel begged, beseeching him with his gaze. 

But Rhysand only shook his head once more. “They need the space.” 

“She needs me.” 

Cassian scoffed and ground his jaw, but a glance in the general’s direction found only tears and the quivering of his lips as he pressed them together. 

“You need to let them work.” 

“This is my fault,” Azriel spoke, his tone dead, lost within the echo of your screams. “I was seeing Elain,” he admitted. He met Rhysand’s eyes. “You told me not to. She lied so I could go.” 

Rhysand didn’t even look disappointed. He didn’t look surprised. He only ticked his jaw to the side and breathed deeply through his nose as your screams filled the room once more. 

Azriel flinched. The soles of his shoes were caked with blood and cracked along the stitches. 

Rhysand would have the right to be angry. He had the right to send Azriel away and force him to sit in uncertainty and the consequences of the night, but Rhysand found something familiar in the Shadowsinger’s eyes—something different. Something that Rhysand could find in himself if he were to search his mind from the night he thought Feyre to be dead. 

Impossible, the High Lord assumed, but you were still screaming and there was no time to inspect the intricacies of Azriel’s reaction. 

So Rhysand only held back the maelstrom of his own emotions, his sister broken on the table just feet from him, and kept his response to that of a leader. 

“Let them work, Azriel.”

[ohsweetflips]

deep inside him, a voice whispered, if he catches me, i’ll…

…

“thanks,” he said in a hoarse voice.

he wasn’t scared of faking. he has fallen so many times over the years. but hitting the group still hurt.

i am going to have a fucking Event right now

[k9wa]

⟁ PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

⚠︎ mechanic!reader (but it isn’t really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (ma’am used once at the end) wc 1k.

“your bounty has been completed!”

boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.

“how would you like to land?”

the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.

“…good question.”

the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. he’d never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete from— give or take— six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasn’t the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasn’t exactly in the cards of his itinerary.

boothill’s eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted it’d do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless. 

he eventually came up with an idea— a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound on…wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet. 

super simple, super easy. lightwork.

and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.

“c’mon now boothill,” he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. “ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ repositionin’.”

he kept falling, getting closer, 

closer…

closer…

almost there…

boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when something— or rather, someone— grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked ‘muddle—!’ before he could test the success rate of his plan.

the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent saviours—

of course.

boothill’s sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.

“well fudge me!” he’d slap his knee if the position allowed. “look who it is— ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.

“swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“you’re lucky,” you half scoff. “i’ve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.”

boothill’s hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled. 

“ain’t that the fudgin’ truth,” he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. “reckon i’d be flatter than a darn hotcake if it weren’t for yer timely intervention!” 

his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your hand— instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.

“you got somewhere to be or somethin’?”

you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.

“you bet i do— somewhere that ain’t swarmin’ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!”

it was a fair point— a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.

running with him wasn’t so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often. 

you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way. 

“say, remind me to get’cha a drink later,” boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. “as a thanks for all them times y’saved my sorry behind.”

boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.

“you’re gonna have quite the tab going.” you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothill’s eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.

“tell ya what,” his hand gave yours a squeeze. “i know a place. it ain’t too far from here, won’t have to worry about no one botherin’ us,” it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. “i start workin’ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck we’re both winnin’ ain’t we?” 

you hummed at that. it didn’t sound so bad.

“alright,” you nodded. “but let’s focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.”

it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.

“you weren’t pullin’ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?” boothill fell into a natural step behind you.

“consider this added to your tab.”

“yes ma’am!”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[zph]

he can’t sleep without you. | roommate!scara x gn!reader.

in which you both are roommates (gasp). and he cannot seem to have a good’s night rest without your warmth.

notes: clingy scara!!, profanity, mutual pining, one mention of innuendo but still sfw, scara is sort of like a cat that waits outside of the bathroom door, not proofread

roommate!scara small hcs: here | masterlist

For someone so adamant about getting all his 8 hours of sleep, he sure as hell was too willing to lose it so easily.

With one hand begrudgingly wiping away the drowsiness from his eyes, he clenches the blanket closer in the other, shivering as the breeze hits his puffed cheeks and loose top that he carelessly slipped into the night before.

Scaramouche felt the heaviness weighing on his movement; his hair was no doubt disheveled, and his dark circles were already starting to pull underneath his bottom eyelids. Miserably, he tried to run his fingers through the strands, only to struggle when he was met with a particular knot...

In other words, he felt like complete shit.

…

Just where are you right now?

Squinting at the faint light peering through the corridor, he hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door.

Tossing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he briefly weighed his options:

Either pass out on the cold, hard ground

Watch the lost hours take a toll on his plummeting mood as he waits for you.

Neither which seemed possible nor pleasant to him.

God, are those his only alternatives? He drags a hand down his face, slipping on some fuzzy cat sandals (a gift, courtesy of you after convincing him that it was well worth the price only to see him lap around rocking cute merch, much to your amusement).

And his mind reels back at the thought of you.

…

A normal and sane person wouldn’t limp his way out of the bedroom; a normal and sane person wouldn’t take the time dragging his dwindling patience and weary feet towards a conveniently placed bathroom door; a normal and sane person would instead, hog the blankets and fall back to sleep...

…

Despite this, Scaramouche found himself at the mercy of the blazing light at the aforementioned conveniently placed bathroom door.

He scoffs. ‘A normal and sane person.’

With his blanket draped across the wooden tiled floor, his hand dug out from under the duvet before landing swift knocks on the wood.

1 knock.

Then 2.

Then finally, 3.

Scaramouche clenches the makeshift coat closer, shivering as he shoots glares at the door.

“Are you done?” Scaramouche grumbled before plummeting his head onto the door itself; a sense of exasperation flowing through him and by god, he hoped you could sense his desperation too. “Come back to bed, it is too cold.” His sense of shame would come back in the morning once he was more lucid. But right now, he just wanted to sleep.

And unfortunately, he also wanted you.

—

It started as a simple movie night: hiding within the cozy sheet of a small blanket, huddling closer for warmth, pressing up so close against each other. Even with the screen blaring on his face, the clear exhaustion from a movie marathon, he still found comfort in the way your fingers gently roamed and traced down his back then up to brush the hair sticking out from his neck. While his head rested comfortably at your shoulder, humming slightly to the background static.

This was becoming a regular occurrence:

You suggest a movie after watching him fumble around with his work, eyes nearly drooping after painstakingly looking at a computer all day, with coffee prepared in those branded ‘Best Employe of the Year’ mugs his company loves parade around. With one quick glance at his sad form, you were already coaxing him onto the couch for ‘just a few minutes’ until suddenly, he was cozied in pajamas and the blanket wrapped around him like some sort of makeshift hostage situation.

More and more, until he finds himself cuddling close to your form, his arms wrapped under the fabric of your waist, and your leg lifted onto his hip.

More and more, until he is the one to instead force you out of your chair and into watching a horror movie with him, sliding snacks he knows you’ll indulge in when he doesn’t see.

More and more, until he feels you wrap the blanket around him the next day, gently whispering a quick ‘good morning’ before quickly making a beeline to the bathroom in order to prepare for work.

But in your absence, his hand reaches out after you, eyes flat on the door: a fleeting acknowledgment and the longing to get you back into his arms.

It was maddening.

..So, this was no different.

Another excuse to press close against each other; the cold chill from that busted heater leaving you to fend for yourself with the only pair of a heated blanket until the next morning—bringing you to offer another movie.

This time, childhood classics.

“You know, we should sleep together,” you suddenly say, the rumbling from your chest awakening him.

He pauses, his head lifting from his spot. “Excuse me?”

“Like bed-sharing. Cuddling. Horizontally lying on a mattress. Together. Ever heard of the concept?” you chuckled. “What were you thinking about?”

He makes a face. “Absolutely nothing.” And he turns on his side, his back to your chest, away from your stifling laughter. “…Why are you even asking in the first place?” comes out after a moment.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the way you stretched your arms out to release some of the tension from your body, then leaned your head on his shoulder. “We’ve been doing this for a while, yeah? I don’t know, heater is still kinda busted and I kinda don’t want to be alone right now.”

There was an extended pause in his reply.

Truthfully, there were little reasons to hate the arrangement and even fewer reasons to refuse it. In fact, with the way your chin comfortably sits on his skin, his mind was reeling with warmth despite the bitter cold biting his skin.

“No worries, the deal is still on the table so don’t feel pressured,” you smile up at him, taking his silence as a refusal. “I can go out to get-“

Then he cuts you off, huffing with amusement. “Sure, do what you want.”

And he leaves it at that, already scooting closer to your chest and comfortably making room in your arms.

But soon, he feels you gently intertwine your hands together, pulling the back of his to your lips. With your eyes glinting with fondness, you breathe in. “Thanks.” and before he can react, you were already pressing your face into the curve of his neck, contentment rolling off on you in waves.

…You were maddening.

—

For a moment, there was no other sound except the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door. Scaramouche sighs.

From being habitually conditioned into only sleeping by your side, he finds that the aftermath led up to whatever state he is in right now.

3:12 am. He checks once more. You were taking long. He embraces the cool chill, the blanket already half shallowing his body at this point, spilling to the bottom like some coat.

He probably looks ridiculous standing in front of the bathroom, tapping his foot, impatiently waiting for your return.

Like a cat, he could hear you say.

And as if you heard his increasingly humbling pleas, before long, the door peers open, shedding light on his poor eyes and through his rather tense squinting. Barely stepping foot into the room, you jump at the sight of your roommate—who, he would have guessed from your dumbfounded gasp and prolonged stare, you weren’t expecting to be up at this hour.

“…How long were you standing there?”

He only regarded you with the tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed at your form. “Long enough.” he murmured.

With your eyes doused with concern, he watched as you took one step towards him, reaching out to tug his hand back into your room. “Sorry, had to use the bathroom.” That was until you seemed to catch the odd blush on his face, dimmed light exposing his visage. He could almost sense your glee the moment you decide you weren’t going to pity his poor self. “Did you miss me by chance?”

Firmly, he quickly tugs you closer, landing his head on your shoulder and pointedly ignoring your comment. “Just shit faster, I need to sleep.”

Scaramouche didn’t comment on how you sucked in a harsh breath, lips parting as he hugged you tighter. Buried into your neck, he fought the smile that crept up on his face and the raging heat coaling in his cheeks. He heard a soft laugh echo into the air before a lightweight softly hit his head, humming a gentle: “Missed you too.”

He wasn’t sure if it was pounding in his ears or the thumping of your heartbeat, but as your warmth wrapped around his cool body, his composure ever so slightly weakened and lulled into a quiet hum. Gathering all his aches in a single embrace, he can’t help but desperately tug onto your shirt, demanding a resemblance of dignity — only for it to fail terribly as he leaned in closer, his body already weak to the kisses you press against his temples.

And that was enough for him.

(That was enough for his mind to come to a rest.)

So yes, you were revolting in every sense of the word. And yet if he were to choose, Scaramouche would willingly suck up his pride than ever pull away from your warm embrace.

[cute-sucker]

note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

extra note: this is an unofficial part 2 !! link

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him. 

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room. 

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain. 

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something. 

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!" 

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm. 

"rafe? please." 

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress. 

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great. 

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant. 

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany. 

"i have to go." 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat. 

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him. 

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body. 

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in. 

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy. 

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed. 

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle. 

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart. 

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you. 

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay." 

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay. 

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms. 

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears. 

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes. 

 "you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby." 

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day. 

[rite-the-wrongs]

*chugs a full half and half Monster Rehab*

So, you know how Darkseid is looking for the Anti-Life Equation? Well, Danny and the other Halfas are kinda Anti-Alive. Idk, my mind is going to how Thanos is trying to impress Lady Death in the weirdest ways possible (like killing half the universe or making her side piece immortal), and changing the names to Darkseid and Danny.

Darkseid attacking the earth was far from a rare occurrence. Usually his attacks were centered on the Justice League, but around every 1 out of 5 times he would just show up on a regular Tuesday with his army pouring through various Boom Tubes in every major city.

This wasn’t even the first time Darkseid had attacked like this since Danny had joined the League. The only difference was that instead of flying to Fawcett City to help Captain Marvel fight the invaders there, Danny had been in Gotham helping Bats and Diana with an artifact smuggling ring. The two of them immediately got in the Bat-Plane and headed towards Metropolis as fast as they could and Danny had been dragged along.

Darkseid was already holding Superman by the neck when they flew overhead. Diana jumped out to help Supergirl fight some messed up guy in a pink robe while the two Superboys were beating up an old lady. Batman gained Darkseid’s attention by firing missiles at the space tyrant which froze him to the ground and knocked the struggling Superman from his grip.

Darkseid’s glare followed the plane as it flew overhead. Then it started actually following as his Omega Beams burst forward.

“Hang on!” Phantom yelled, grabbing ahold of Batman and turning them both intangible just as the beams destroyed the plane around them.

He gently flew Bats on the ground. Bats did his customary grunt of approval he gave out if you saved him from certain death and ran to help the two heroines take out cloak man as Danny flew over to help take down the grandma. A few other heroes were focusing on keeping the Parademons flooding through the portal contained. Danny recognized a few, mainly Steel, Booster Gold, and Black Lightning, but there were even more that he didn’t.

He turned back to his own fight just in time to avoid getting hit by the old lady’s baton.

“Sorry, Grandma!” Phantom smirked, phasing through the attack. “Any chance I can let you pinch my cheeks and we call it a day?”

“Temping, porkchop, but an old lady needs her hobbies. And conquering planets is one of Granny’s favorites,” the old lady laughed swinging at him a few more times, only for each blow to pass through him like the last.

“Well, next time we’ll just invite you to bingo night,” Danny remarked, grabbing her wrist on the last blow and twisting it behind her back. The older Superboy tackled her through the Halfa as the younger one flew up high and plummeted feet first into her head, knocking Granny out.

The fighting seemed to be winding down. Diana had the guy in the pink robe tied up in her lasso while Batman ran over to help the Atom close the Boom Tube and Supergirl flew over to help her cousin fight Darkseid.

The only fight that was still going strong was Superman and Darkseid. Neither Titan was willing to bow to the other. Supergirl flew in between them, snapping Darkseid’s head to the side with a well placed kick. The space tyrant staggered for a moment before grabbing her leg and throwing her at Superman. The two Kryptonians fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs as Darkseid charged up his Omega Beams.

Danny didn’t even think. One second he was floating next to Jon and the next he had teleported in between the ruler of Apokolips and the two Kryptonians. He barely managed to throw up a shield in time. The Omega Beams shook the shield and kicked up dust around it, but Phantom gritted his teeth and managed to keep it steady. He only let the shield finally fall once the dust had settled.

“Impressive, child. Not even a Lantern Ring can shield from my Omega Beams. What are you?”

“You know, just a dead guy who doesn’t really know how to stay dead,” Danny chatted, keeping Darkseid’s attention on him. The portal was directly behind the tyrant. Wonder Woman and the Superboys threw their respective bad guys back through the portal.

“How can you be both dead and alive?” Darkseid asked. If he was confused, he didn’t let it show. Batman gestured at the two Supers behind Danny. They gave him a small nod and looked at the tyrant. Danny raised a hand to stop them.

“Back everyone up and cover your ears,” Danny whispered under his breath at a level only the four supers could hear. The Superboys quickly got everyone away from the portal while Superman and Supergirl gave him looks of confusion, but eventually relented. The entire time Darkseid’s attention was on Danny and Danny alone.

“Guess I’m just that stubborn,” Danny chuckled at the dictator. “I died, it didn’t fully stick, now here I am as a ghost.”

“Breathtaking.”

“You know what else is breathtaking?” Danny sucked in as much air as he could, not that he really needed it, and released a wail.

At once, all windows on the street shattered. Everyone covered their ears and the heart breaking cry sweep through the area. The Supers all collapsed to their knees, the sound even worse for those with super hearing. Tears threatened to spill from everyone’s eyes. Everyone but Darkseid.

The Dictator of Apokolips seemed almost stunned. Blood streamed from his nose and probably his ears, though those were hidden in his helmet. The sound waves slammed into him and he did nothing to fight back as the waves set him careening head over heels back towards the portal.

Darkseid barely managed to grab the edge of the portal and the wail stopped and Danny fell to his knees. White rings flickered around him and started to change him back into Fenton, but he managed to stop them before anyone could who wasn’t already looking could see. And the only one looking was Darkseid.

“Someone close the portal!” Batman yelled. All of the heroes staggered to their feet and tried to run to the Mother Box as Darkseid just stares at Phantom.

“Such beautiful cries of pain,” Darkseid muttered. His gaze never left the exhausted Phantom. He realized almost too late that the heroes were going for the Mother Box. He charged up his Omega Beams and shot them at the closest hero, Wonder Woman. She managed to ricochet them off her bracelets, but the beams kept coming back for her. The other heroes had to back up in fear of getting hit or getting in the Amazonian’s way.

Suddenly, a yellow blur swept through the area, knocking Diana out of the way are replacing her with an unconscious Parademon. A figure, this one white and red, landed on the Mother Box, destroying the device. Finally, a red blur ran in and punched Darkseid in the face, sending the tyrant careening through the closing portal.

“Sorry we’re late.” Flash chuckled, as a frustrated Kid Flash and Impulse stopped behind him. “What’d we miss?”

A series of groans ripped through the heroes as they just sat down and waited for the Javelin to get there for med evac.

—————————————————————————

You’d think Danny’s first time fighting Darkseid would be a bigger deal, but it was honestly not as big of a deal as everyone made it out to be. Danny had been fighting genocidal inter-dimensional tyrants since he was 14. What was one genocidal space tyrant making the list?

Batman apparently didn’t think it no big deal, though, if the worried version of the patented Bat-glare and Bat-grunt were anything to go off of. It had been a few days since the fight and the Bat had finally managed to wrangle everyone who had been involved in the Metropolis fight to the Watchtower for a debrief.

The meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago, but only the Flash was still missing. Danny, Conner, and Kara had been making jokes about it to a groaning Kid Flash and a pouting Impulse when the Boom Tube opened.

Everyone jumped to the ready. Batman pulled out a Batarang. Wonder Woman readied her lasso. Superman, Super girl, and the younger Superboy all started floating while their eyes glowed red. The older Superboy got into a fighting stance that Booster Gold quickly copied. The Atom shrank. Black Lightning’s hands sparked with electricity while Danny’s hands glowed with ectoplasm. The two speedsters vibrated in place.

They were ready for anything to come through. Except for a box of chocolates, a bouquet of roses, and a severed head of a yellow, bald alien. As quickly as it opened, the portal closed again. Kid Flashes summed it up best.

“What the fuck?” The yellow speedster yelled.

“Is that-“ Diana piped up, only for Superman to interrupt.

“It’s Mongul,” the Man of Steel growled.

“Who would send a severed warlord’s head with a bunch of romantic gifts?” The Atom piped up from where he stood on Booster’s shoulder.

“Well if it’s not poisoned, dibs on the chocolate,” Impulse gave a nervous laugh.

Batman and Black Lightning approached the table. Batman took a device of his belt and scanned the head then chocolate, each one coming back clean. Lightning picked up the bouquet and found a note.

“To Phantom,” he read out loud. “Your screams of agony resonated through my very being. You are the answer to my billion year search for the Anti-Life Equation. Join me and together we can enslave the universe to our will. Darkseid.”

The room fell into silence. Everyone had various looks of disgust on their face. The silence was eventually broken by Danny groaning and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Why do I only attract fruitloops?” He yelled up to the ceiling.

“GUYS!” A red blur yelled as he burst into the room. Flash had finally arrived. “I saw Desaad buying flowers in central city! And then Granny Goodness showed up with a box of chocolates and they Boom Tubed away! Hey, they actually looked a bit like these. Holy shit! Is that Mongul?”

Black Lightning just handed the Scarlet Speedster the note. Flash summed it up the best.

“What the fuck?”

Idk, let me know if I got to continue.

[rottenherbs]

Off the Pitch // F.W x Potter!reader

Request: Hi, I was wondering if I could ask for a Fred Weasley x Potter!reader where she has a crush on him but is too afraid to say anything because they have been friends since first year but after they win the quidditch cup (she's in the team too) he kisses her in the middle of the pitch and then he confesses his feelings for her and the go on a date and he prepares something special to ask her out?

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: honestly the Potter! Sister mention is super lowkey in this! Mainly fluff between reader and Fred :) I honestly adore writing quidditch scenes. Like the action ugh yes please

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige

———————

The air was freezing and nipping at any exposed skin you had, but all you could truly feel was nerves. Nerves for the last game of the season, nerves for your brother, nerves being around… him. Your mind was distracted and you had to clear your head — and fast.

The sound of the whistle broke you from your trance, the game had officially begun. The conglomerate of brooms whipped around, loud hollers of commands filled the air from your team attempting to communicate across the field. Your position of keeper was simple, stay put and defend. You were quick on your broom, able to see the rivals flying across in any attempt to score a goal.

Keeping your head down, your eyes flickered across the field, most of the action now happening on the slytherin side. Your attention flickered around the students, landing quickly on Fred and bouncing off. You understood how important this game was, but you fought your mind and heart, trying not to be too distracted. In a snap, the game switched, a goal being scored in Gryffindor favor, the slytherins now playing rougher.

You gripped your broom, tensing your body in anticipation seeing a slytherin chaser make its way through the crowd. Furrowing your brow you easily flew around the posts, catching the quaffle mid air. From just out of view, Fred’s arm raised in a fist, a large smile across his face.

“YES! Y/N YES!” He yelled, shooting you a thumbs up, flying away quickly. You bit your lip, tossing the ball back to Alicia Spinnet, allowing her to race across the field and score another goal.

The game went for almost an hour, an endless fight between the rival houses; the air was tense. Slytherin was leading the championship by 200 points, everyone understood that you needed at least 210 to win the cup. Unfortunately the energies were getting out of hand, several penalties being given to the Gryffindor team. Marcus Flint, the slytherin chaser, crashed purposefully into Angelina which resulted in Fred throwing his bat into his head, sending Flint to the ground with a bloody nose. The slytherin beater also hit Alicia with their club and George elbowed them in the face. It wasn't pretty.

You couldn’t remember a game that had gone this rough since the beginning of the year when Hufflepuff beat Gryffindor, but hey… there were dementors in attendance.

As the crowd got to their feet, you felt the energy shift in the field. Malfoy had sight of the snitch, Harry now side to side with him, both of them blundering against each other's bodies. They held their hands out, extending them as far as they could. To your amazement, Harry’s hand quickly snatched the golden orb, plummeting to the ground — Lee Jordans voice boomed across the field, halting all athletes in their place.

“Potter has secured the Snitch!! The Cup goes to GRYFFINDOR!”

A full sense of relief rushes over your body, calming your breath watching your brother make his triumphant return to the field. Letting out a yell of excitement, you flew back down to the pitch. The feeling of the hard ground was peaceful to you, the relief of gravity made your shoulders slump, a lazy smile across your face.

Your arms and legs ache from holding the broom as tight as you did, a bittersweet feeling knowing that the school year really was over, the final game of the year won in your hands. Dropping your broom, you rushed over to Harry attempting to give him a hug and quick congratulations before he was swept into the air onto Wood's shoulders. You admired him from afar, relishing in the happiness oozing out of his body. The love you felt for your brother was eternal.

“I bet you're proud of him huh.” Fred appeared next to you, breaking your trance. You glanced over at him for only a moment, looking back at your brother; the field was now being rushed by the students in the stands. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his jaw rhythmically chewing a piece of gum. The sight was like no other.

“More than he could ever know.” You mumbled, shaking your head lighty. Looking up at Fred, he smiled down at you, something twinkling behind his eyes. “You did really great out there.” You added, noticing a small bruise forming just under his right eye. You reached up, brushing it lighty. He winced, but relaxed at your touch. He felt his chest tense as you touched him, surprised by your gesture.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to save face, not wanting to show how much pain he was in -

“Eh, I'm alright, just the name of the game eh?”

He lightly tilted his head into your hand, now cupping his cheek. You both looked into eachothers eyes for a moment, the feeling of his skin to yours warm. You couldn't tell if your heart was racing from the game or this moment.

“You did great out there too” Fred whispered, “You’re always great.”

He smiled softly at you, not removing his head from your hand. A deep blush creeped across your cheeks, your thumb lightly brushing against his cheek, the moment so intimate, so romantic. You both stood exhausted, exhilarated, and slightly battered.

A minute passed before Fred leaned in, silently asking for your permission, his eyes darting between yours and your lips. You were close enough to notice the little indentations on his forehead, his nose had a scar you’ve never seen before, his basking breath hot yet minty.

Taking a deep breath in, you quickly closed the gap, his hands rushing up to your neck, his fingers intertwined in your hair. Luckily most of the students were too interested in celebrating to notice you two.

The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, both of you holding onto each other for dear life. Breaking the seal, Fred leaned back admiring your expression, your closed eyes, your lips reddened from the friction. Looking awkwardly to the side, you covered your mouth with your hand stifling a laugh, leaning your forehead on his chest.

“I swear it's been 5 years since I dreamed of doing that.” He mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You scoffed, still enthralled by the kiss.

“Oh come off it, its true!” Fred boasts, his voice now trailing above the crowd. “The prettiest girl on the quidditch team, smartest girl in our grade. I KISSED HER!” He adds, tipping your chin up to face him. “Don't tell me it’s all in my head” he laughs, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Oh Fred.” You whisper, grabbing his wrists, pulling yourself up to kiss him again. This time you heard celebrations around you, the sound of George now surrounding you.

“OY! Finally! You owe me 7 galleons.” Breaking the kiss, you both looked over to George nudging Lee Jordan, the biggest smirk across his face. Lee rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Fred scoffed, laughing pulling you away from the crowd. Looking back you made eye contact with George, his eyebrows wagging at you both.

You turned the corner, his hand still enveloped in yours. He leaned against the large changing room, both of you now out of sight of the crowd. He laughed, his head leaning back, his jawline protruding slightly, still chewing the gum. He takes one look at you, turning away smiling.

“I’m serious though, I just.” He winced slightly, finding the words. “I just didn’t want to ruin this” gesturing lightly between you. “You meant so much to me. Our friendship.” You listened intently, the words resonating deeply. You didn’t realize how much he felt the same about as you did him.

“I was too scared to lose you.” You whispered, leaning back into his arms. He held you tightly, his head resting on top of yours. “It feels like a dream.” You mumbled lightly into his chest.

“You dreamt about my gross sweaty arms holding you in the freezing cold?” Fred laughed, lightening the mood. You scoffed in his chest, suddenly remembering all the dreams you have had about Fred.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Believe what you want” You laughed, nudging his stomach.

“How about after I shower, and i'm not sweaty, I take you to honeydukes. My treat.” Fred whispered, rubbing your back. You nodded back, smiling deeply into his uniform.

“Yeah that would be nice”

[mameillieureennemie]

tw// character death (reader), jinx x reader, arcane season 2 ending spoilers

you can't let jinx make that sacrifice.

You see it before Jinx can even act; you've spent so long with you that you can read her like a book.

You see the desperation in her eyes as she watches Warwick lash out at Vi. You see that desperation turn into determination, and your fears are confirmed when she looks at you.

"I just want you to know that I—" Jinx starts off quickly, her eyes darting between you and Vi. But you interrupt her as you bring her in for a tight hug. When you part, Jinx looks confused and is about to speak when you shake your head, smiling.

"I love you," you say and give her one last kiss. "Be happy, okay?"

You see when Jinx realises what you're planning but you're already two steps ahead. You land a swift punch to her stomach to destabilse her, your heart aching as she bends over with the pain. But it's enough time for you to fling yourself off the ledge and ram yourself into Warwick before he delivers a final blow to Vi.

It all happens so fast; Vi reaches for you with her gloved hand, and she's desperately holding onto you. But Warwick isn't letting go, his grip on your waist is solid and you see Jinx is already getting up, horror etched into her features as she watches.

You know what she's about to do; you can see the shimmer pulsing through her veins.

So you look at Vi, smile and say exactly what you said to Jinx.

"Be happy."

Then you're removing the crystal from her glove, feeling yourself go weightless as you plummet to the ground below.

Despite the fear that seizes your body whole, you feel a sense of peace. You turn to Warwick, no, Vander, and draw him into your arms as you hide your tears into his fur.

"It's okay, it'll be over soon." You promise, holding him tight as you pull out one of Jinx's bombs from your side pouch.

You pull the pin and close your eyes and then—

There's nothing.