#Also maybe jumping out a window to escape a bad situation

[multiversal-pudding]

I just realized Eddie Dear kinda sounds like The Fix.

Help me.

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[eva-stator]

I think I can try to answer anons questions about the characterizations. Apologies in advance because this is LOOOOOONG.

First things first, to be in the SAS means more than just being a soldier. The British SAS are the literal top of the top, cream of the crop of their special forces. They are compared a lot with DEVGRU (seals) and Delta Force. Less than 1% of armed forces members can pass selection and complete their training. They are all, in their own ways, very hardened individuals. They’re all extremely intelligent in several skills, and equally competent. (This isn’t to stroke off the special forces. They are not superhuman and are never immune to dying from their own mistakes or pure bad luck. It’s extremely dangerous to be in counter terrorism or do raids like they do, and a not insignificant amount die of dumb mistakes or unavoidable circumstances. But they’re not to be fucked with either)

Soap is sniper, demolitions expert. These require math skills and chemical knowledge. He’s intelligent, stoic sometimes but more spirited. He wants to help. He gets angry when bad things happen, and he seems to really care about civilians. He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and voices his opinions always. He pushes buttons and boundaries, but he’s no braggart. Equally, he is intense. His humour is actually kinda dry and teasing, banter style humour. He’s not actually very silly.

Ghost is more ambiguous. He’s more rugged and detached. More introverted. He only starts joking with soap in alone, more than halfway through the game, so his trust is gained through time and effort. His humour is dry, sometimes dad jokes and sometimes fucked up jokes. Overall, he’s emotionally detached and goal oriented. He’s got a bit of the sillies though, just a taste.

Gaz is an extremely important main character. He was vital in all games, including the first mw reboot game in 2019, his character was made before soap and ghosts were. (Which is why his deliberate exclusion is a goddamn travesty). He’s spirited and strong, his skills of resistance to interrogation, escape and evasion, as well as VIP protection means he’s an intelligent independent mind. While injustices anger him, he’s got a level head and can cede to reason and keep that anger supressed, as well as be an important voice of reason. He can also be sympathetic and guiding, as seen in the mission where he guides a civilian through an extremely dangerous situation to safety.

Captain price is a staple character for the series. He’s confident but also slightly unhinged. He’s experienced, maybe a bit detached, he doesn’t give a god damn about consequences unless he gets what he wants or completes his goal. He will throw every law out the window. He will abandon basic morals and principles. He’s extremely dangerous and not to be fucked with or questioned. Hes called John “war crimes” price by the fandom for a reason. He has his more gentle side, but it’s rare and he will only show it to people he seems worthy of it, like Farah Karim or Kate laswell. He saves people but he does it roughly, he never seems to handle civilians with kid gloves, and he’s kinda rough and detached from them. He’ll save your life, but he’ll probably break your arm in the process and definitely won’t apologize for it. It’s important to note he knows what he does is fucked up. He knows people don’t like it. He gives people a way out, lets them choose if they really want to fully jump in the mud with him. He also smokes cigars with car windows rolled up. Absolutely evil action. He’s also my favourite and I love him in a way that you love a grizzly bear.

Obligatory Kate mention. Kate is a cia agent who is basically the leash that keeps John from acting out too hard. She reins them in, keeps them informed. She’s level headed and a quick thinker. She knows how the game of war is played, when and how to play by and within the rules and keeps everyone from breaking them in ways that could spiral out of control. She also knows when to let them do shady shit, and how to get them out of the messes they get themselves into. She is a very strong character, mainly in mind but also in body, and will get her hands dirty if she has to.

TLDR these are deceptively complicated characters, as in, it’s easy to mistake them as pretty surface level. They’re also easy to mistake with their fanon characterizations, which while fun, are often headcanons that the fandom has taken and run with. They’re also, not always very accurate depictions of the characters. If you wanna write them right, you gotta watch and listen to their mission dialogue.

These are generally simplified introductions based on what I observed playing the games.

Tip and trick, if you’re writing a dialogue line, imagine the characters voice saying it out loud. Say it out loud yourself. If you can fully hear the character saying the line, it’s probably a great line. If you can’t picture them saying it, tweak it until you can. This helps me a lot.

Thank you :)

Also love the kate mention

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 2

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.3k Also on AO3

“Oh, you’re up? C’mon get dressed, we have a meeting with the engineers in like ten minutes” the stranger singsongs, throwing the door open and carelessly stepping inside.

The man does not spare you a second glance, instead making a beeline for the tall window that cover the entire wall at your right to throw the curtains open. Your hand flies up to cover your eyes, the new source of light not only blinding you but also revealing too much information for you to process. What is this room? Not your bedroom, that’s clear, you sure as hell do not have a kitchen in front of the bed for starters. And that huge balcony?

Where are you? 

However, you are missing a key question: you are late for what?

He interrupts you almost instantly, ignoring your complaints as he takes a look down to his phone “Be ready in five, I have to make a call”, and with that said, he is out the door. 

“I…I don’t-” you try to get his attention, arms coming around yourself for protection since your voice is not cooperating. 

The silence he leaves behind is chilling, your mind working at lightspeed while your body remains there, standing alone in the middle of an unknown place, petrified. You can only hear him outside, his steps and words filtering though the paper-thin walls —and only then does your brain register he is and has been talking in English all this time.  

You look around, completely overwhelmed by the situation. What are you supposed to do now, jump out the window? Because there is no way you are going to do what he is saying, right? You do not even know who he is or where you are, this is crazy!  

A look around the room further confirms your suspicions, this is a hotel room. Those bland colors, decoration to fit everyone’s taste and a neon pink suitcase pushed into a corner that you run to dig through with such fervor that you almost tear the zipper out. But there is nothing that could help you anywhere. Maybe you could throw one of the heels at him and pray that it causes a concussion or something, but that could potentially get you into a lot more trouble.  

A couple of knocks halt your investigation, the same mechanical noises sounding again as the door slowly opens. You make a split-second decision to hide in the bathroom, door closing way too loudly for him not to notice.  

“We really have to hurry, the car is waiting for us” the man sighs in frustration. You hear some ruffling around the room and before you can figure out what he is doing, he is walking towards the bathroom’s door “Hey, open up, you left your clothes outside” 

Considering your chances of escaping any other way are non-existent —you have locked yourself in the worst possible room for an impromptu breakout plan—, you decide to lower your head and listen to him. What else could happen? The situation is bad enough already, you should at least change out of this pyjama. 

Taking the knob in your hand and placing a foot close to the door to prevent it from completely opening, you comply with his request. Through the small gap appears a stack of neatly prepared clothes that you quickly snatch before closing it again. The outfit is nothing special, a pair of jeans and a shirt that looks exactly like the one that man is wearing. The fabric is white and of a strange but flowy material, logos of different brands plastered all over it. The biggest one painted right on its center, letters drawn in a dark red color: HAAS.  

Advertising clothes? Weird.  

You make quick work of getting yourself dressed, stepping out of the room before the man can call for you again. He guides you out the room and through the corridors in silence, glancing every now and then at his phone, until you arrive to the car he had talked about. The driver does not even look back when you get seated, only speeds off as soon as both doors are closed.  

On the ride, the atmosphere is tense. Nobody says a word, the only sound filling the space being that of the car’s radio, and even that is worrying you. They are speaking so fast and in such a strange language that it is impossible to understand any of it. Is that why the driver had not talked? Is he a foreigner, like the guy seated by your side? What have you gotten yourself into?  

“Sorry, I’ve been so stressed all morning... didn't even ask if you are feeling alright after yesterday” the man breaks the silence, letting go of his phone for the first time all morning.  

So, all of that did happen, you did faint in the arms of some stranger dressed in a weird orange jumpsuit. It is nice to have some confirmation, but what the hell... 

He rummages through the backpack in the middle seat while waiting for an answer that is so painfully obvious. No, you are not feeling alright, you have been literally kidnapped, is he that delusional or just plain stupid? But you decide it's better to remain silent.

In the meantime, he manages to take out two plastic cards with neck straps attached to them, and holds one of them on your direction as he puts his on. Something instantly catches your attention: not only is your face printed on it, but your name and surnames are written just beneath it. What is this? Why do they have this picture of you? You cannot remember ever taking this photo. 

But you do not dare ask it out loud, voice now stuck on your throat as you dwell on what this means to your situation. They must have been following you, they know exactly who you are.  

“The doctor said everything was fine, that it must have been the rush of emotions and the exhaustion, so you don’t have to worry” he explains once the silence stretches for a beat too long, waiting a second for it to sink in and gather some courage to continue his monologue “Look, I know you don’t like discussing these things on Sundays, but...” 

And although you would have loved to snap at him and tell him that he would not know what you want or do not want to talk about —who the fuck does he think he is?—, it is not you who interrupts him.

The arrival to your supposed destination had gone unnoticed by both of you until a woman starts knocking on the car’s window, the scoldings about your lateness filtering even through the thick glass.  

Oh, his name is Nick? 

The pair seem to be associated —a conclusion that you draw solely because they are wearing that ugly advertising shirt you are now sporting too— or they at least know each other enough for the man to shoot straight out from the car as soon as he hears her. You do so as well, for some reason, but they come over to guide you around before you can question your decision any further. 

The place they have taken you to is rather strange, an enclosed area with colorful buildings that look more like tall campers than actual constructions. The people crowding the street are bubbling with energy, running from one place to another, talking and eating. Some of them are carrying cameras and microphones, big ones, like those you see in TV and... they are pointing them at you? In fact, when you decide to look around to confirm your suspicions, you discover that you have attracted more than the attention of the cameras, everyone is looking at you. 

Even though you try to avoid everybody’s gazes, too worried about who they might be and what they could do, a man standing further down the street manages to catch your gaze. A smile pulls at his lips as soon as your eyes meet, and he waves at you. He is dressed in a red shirt littered with a bunch of logos —these people sure are big on advertising clothes— and a matching cap, a similar outfit to the man he was been talking to. Oh, and now he is... walking towards you? What? Who is he? But most importantly, should you like, say something? It is not like your kidnappers, or whoever they are, are any more trustworthy than a random man on the street, but maybe- 

Yet, before you can decide on anything, he has already standing in front of you.

“Hey, did you eat?” the man in red asks —in English again, mind you, though he seems to have a different accent—, and answers his own question in the same breath “You didn’t, right?"

You shake your head in response anyway. It is true, the last thing you ate was yesterday’s lunch, had been too sad to even make yourself a sandwich that night. But it does not feel like your stomach would accept anything either. 

His smile widens at the confirmation, dimples peeking out as he reveals what he has been hiding behind his back. The man in red stretches a hands towards you, a package of cookies wrapped in transparent plastic and a pretty bow resting in his hand.

“They made these again! Got some for you as soon as they put them out, you liked them so much last time” the man’s voice has turned light with happiness, the look on his green eyes signaling just how proud he is to have gotten them for you, but what does he mean by last time? 

Frowning, you peel your eyes off the treat, looking up to the pair by your side, as if asking for permission. This all seems so strange.

“Of course, go ahead” Nick quickly responds, looking rather confused “You can eat whatever you want, I thought you’d be too nervous for food”.

And you are, but this man is looking at you so sweetly that it makes it impossible to refuse his gift.  

You swiftly pick up the bag, holding it close to your chest as a “Thanks” slides out of your lips. 

There is a beat of silence between the two of you, the ever present smile drawn on the man in front of you only stretching and your confusion heightening.

“Uhm, sorry, the meeting is about to start, we have to go” the woman beside you reminds, and you can see Nick checking his phone for the nth time this morning. She turns to the man in red “Good luck today, Charles! Be safe” 

Oh, Charles? Is that his name?

“Yeah, I’m running late as well” Charles murmurs, taking a look back to where he came from. You follow his gaze to see the man he had left behind to talk to you, arms crossed over his chest as he waits by the door of a fully red building. Charles seems to nod at him after he makes a couple signals, the man near the black building pointing to his watch. “Thank you, and good luck to you too! I know you’ll do great today, so” he looks back at you this time, shrugging his shoulders as a grin plays on his lips, like it is a done deal.  

But what exactly are you supposed to do great at? What is all this good luck for?

Nick’s arm quickly comes to rest on top of your shoulders before you can dwell on Charles’ words too long, steering you towards one of the buildings while your mind is boiling with questions.  

A glass door gives way to a long corridor full of doors, voices and mechanical noises echoing off the walls. The inside is fully painted in white with various red details lining the walls, which awfully remind you of the place you had woken up in yesterday. The only difference is that now you can recognize that red logo drawn all over the walls: HAAS. The same one resting atop your abdomen. You look down at your shirt to confirm it, eyebrows furrowing as you try to decipher what this is supposed to mean.  

The source of all that noise seems to be a bigger room that opens at the end of the hallway, one that you do not get the opportunity to take a peek at because Nick smoothly ushers you into one of the firsts rooms before you can snoop around much. He opens the door to reveal a group of men seated around a black table, the group casually greeting you and resuming their conversation a second late while you find a seat.

The meeting seems to be all about cars? Sports cars, maybe? Something about their engines, the degradation, strategies and more stuff you cannot really understand, the discussion continuing as one of them points at statistics on a screen. Is that an F1 car?  

“We are starting really far ahead today, congratulations on P10! I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday so… I hope you are feeling better, and just” one of them says, his eyes lifting from the papers on the table to look straight at you. His big smile is supposed to be encouraging, but it makes your heart skip a beat “Don’t be greedy, ok? Keep the position, we need the points”

The rest of the men seem to agree with the piece of advice he throws your way, putting you at the center of attention, and they erupt in laughs as they dedicate each other knowing glances.  

On the other end, you remain silent, trying to figure out what he could possibly be talking about. P what? What is P? 

The meeting does not last much, a thousand of technical words are thrown around without care and a pile of numbers is presented to you all, but you do not manage to grasp what anything of it means. However, the final phrase is etched into your mind, a wish that they all share: “Let’s have a great race”.

And that last word is what starts turning the gears in your head.  

That and the fucking Formula One car you come face to face with when Nick leads you further down the corridor. A quiet “What the hell?” rolling out of your tongue almost unconsciously, eyes glued to the machine before you are pushed into yet another room.  

Next chapter

___

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much for the nice comments and interactions.

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd@drezzerk33

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Okay friendo no more holding back ghost x Kate x price are very similar to bucky x Kate x Steve in my head in the way that Kate falls for them separately in very different ways. One of them is broody and deadly efficient and thinks he shouldn't be loved for all the damage he's done, prefers a mask to separate him and thinks the best thing he can do for the people he loves is to push them away. The other an authority figure with the weight of the squad and the world on his shoulders, a good man who makes mistakes and pushes himself and everyone around him past their limits in the name of good to the people of the world. Thoughts, questions, concerns? (In every and all scenario Kate realizes she likes people by going 'oh no they're HOT' and then jumps out a window to escape the situation)

SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING I should NOT have checked my asks on the way to the time clock rip me. if up til this point you've holding back i am SO EXCITED for unhingedness to run free

the thing is. i don't think she would be surprised she's into Ghost. because that makes sense, he's this giant wall of a sniper, that's not a stretch. and she's always willing to give people a chance. she's also capable of laying him flat on his ass. So there's a level of safety he feels around her?

I think she'd be more self-aware of her feelings about Ghost. I also think he takes his shirt off and Kate is like FUCK he's HOT but she can deal with that she's fine but then he takes the mask off at some point and it's a double whammy of trust and oh NO he's BEAUTIFUL. And she CAN'T climb out a window after that because he'll think it's his face! And it is his face that's scaring her away but not for the reasons he would think!! She wants to escape her feelings so bad and she can't!!!!

She splits the difference by climbing on his shoulders, playing with his hair, and kissing the top of his head while he tries to make them tea. (is she basically petting him and calling him pretty boy? i mean. yeah.)

Price, however.

Kate would look at Price and go "I admire his leadership! I appreciate how he treats his team and goes to bat for them, etc! maybe it's not quite admiration. it feels a little different than normal!" because it's horny. that's the difference.

look. okay. here's the thing. i do not think she has dated people who allow her to realize she is a switch with a competence kink. and a little bit of an authority kink. price is one of like...three people i could see her getting a little subby for. And it wouldn't start out sexual, it would be in regular life. maybe it happens after some off-planet young avengers bullshit where someone tried to assassinate teddy and kate is just frazzled and on edge and her sleep is all fucked up.

Things get to be Too Much and he asks for 10 minutes where she doesn't decide anything, she just does what he tells her to. And it's such a display of trust!!! Price is fucking floored when she actually agrees to it. it's simple stuff, like sit on the couch and drink this bottle of water. Split this candy bar with Gaz. Take off your shoes. Close your eyes, take five deep breaths.

(yes i'm writing it)

all this to say, i think her attraction to price would completely blindside her. to the point where someone else has to point it out to her. Maybe not even seriously, maybe Soap or Gaz or Clint or Billy or Loki are like lol haha sure been staring at Price a lot! you got the hots for PRICE?!?! ha ha jk!! and Kate realizes she DOES. The next time they look over at her they see her vanishing through a window. or climbing in the ceiling.

I don't think she would know how to handle being into Price! She's awkward but not her normal brand of awkward. She's running into shit and not paying attention and pointedly not looking at Price, to the point where he's trying to figure out what he did to make her uncomfortable (did she realize he's attracted to her? FUCK.) And he either. Asks her to come to his office so he can figure out what's going on, or they get locked in a closet together by Ghost.

If he calls a meeting with her, it's so funny because they are both thinking the same thing (hot desk sex) and trying so sososo hard to NOT think about that so then they think about going down on the other in that nice desk chair which SHIT is also not helpful! Fuck! if you asked either of them what they discussed they could NOT tell you

Basically, Ghost is the only one with any damn clue here. He would introduce the idea of it slowly to Kate. Starts talking about Price when they're having sex. Encourages her to return a text while he's eating her out. Takes calls with Price while they're having sex. Slowly building up to Kate letting Ghost take pictures of her/them while or immediately after fucking. Eventually they do a video call. Price is going to break something. Ghost is like fucking FINALLY, he KNOWS they will be good for each other. And honestly two of the best people he knows that he trusts with his life being vulnerable around him? Praising him? Telling him he's good? He's not a fucking saint! Of course he has ulterior motives!! (Kate: your ulterior motives are wanting to be called a good boy? That's the least greedy least sinister thing I've ever heard. Stop thinking you're a bad person for doing this)

I ALSO don't think Kate can handle seeing Price clean shaven or even with his beard trimmed. Like yes he's attractive with his full on Price beard but he turns into a smokeshow the moment he starts to tighten it up. She has no behavior around him. She hates doing the obstacle course and her fastest least bitchy time was when Price was told to trim his beard by a higher up. Kate saw him and immediately went OH FUCK and BOLTS. also thinking about them having to go to ground together and of COURSE he has to shave, the beard is too memorable and they're trying to not be found, so kate offers to shave him! BECAUSE I AM A SLUT FOR THIS. she's sitting on a bathroom counter, shaving him with a straight razor, and price is so caught up in Being Pampered that it takes him a minute to ask kate WHY she has a straight razor???? and she's like oh! :) well obviously it's a weapon. haven't you seen sweeney todd? now, i've never killed anyone with a straight razor. i have stabbed some people. not with this one, don't worry! and price says "i don't think i want you this close to my neck anymore (he's fine. mark him down as scared and horny, that's all)

The thing is Kate's friends and teammates will see a picture of the task force to see her boyfriends and they'll be like "ok!! I can see it" and then Ghost and fucking Price walk in and they're like what the FUCK, why is it the TERRIFYING ones??? We thought it was going to be the cute ones!!! And then of course Kate is like the FUCK you say, are you saying my boyfriends aren't cute?? Ghost is SO RED under the balaclava. Price laughs until he has to stop Kate from lunging.

please say more to me about them, i am insane over them

[blatantescapism]

Ah yes, it’s that special day where once again I find myself wondering what the ever-living fuck Joe Finigan was thinking.

This is the story of how I utterly failed to have the appropriate emotional reaction to 9/11. Mind the trigger tags. I’d add more but I ran out. This story is insensitive by nature and I probably shouldn’t share it, but it’s also such a weird slice of American life that I kinda feel like I gotta.

So, context.

Columbine happened in 1999, when I was in 5th grade. Schools across the US started to be like, “hm, maybe it’s time to actually address this issue somehow.” Our elementary school brought in some random police officers to talk about it. Police who, if anything, had been trained in how to make kids more traumatized.

We didn’t have active shooter drills back then. They were just like, “Hey kids, I want you to imagine this fucked up scenario that I am vividly describing. What would you do if it happened to you? Do you have a Plan? Will you be able to stick to your Plan even while your classmates are screaming? You should think about it hard, in graphic detail, so that when the time comes you won’t hesitate to make Tough Choices. Breaking your leg because you jumped out a window is still better than being dead! Listen to this story of a girl who hid under a desk, but then the gunman found her and she couldn’t escape because there was no room to maneuver and so she was trapped and the gunman shot her while she bravely said her prayers, we have a weird creepy obsession with painting the victims as modern Christian martyrs and we totally invented the entire story but you won’t realize that for at least a decade. And remember: don’t run in a straight line, run in zigzags so that you’re harder to shoot.”

So yeah, that was 1999, we were 11 years old, and we took that shit very much to heart.

Two years later, it’s 2001. There have been 15 new US school shootings in that time. My sister and I are in middle school, it’s early in the school year but we’ve started to get into a normal rhythm,

Suddenly there is a totally unexpected blare on the intercom. It’s Principal Joe Finigan, he is about to make the most significant announcement of his career, and for some fucking reason he decides that THIS is the best thing to say:

“There has been a, uh, a terrible tragedy. Everyone should go home now. Uh, ask your parents what happened. As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.” Click.

We don’t have any other sources of information. The teachers aren’t telling us what’s going on, but some are crying.

Obviously there must have been a school shooting in town. But what the hell did he mean by “as far as we know, we are not a target at this time”? That makes it sound like the gunman is still at large. Is this a sniper situation? Is it even safe to walk home? Are we going to have to line up in the office and take turns using the school telephone to call our parents?

We cautiously head outside, and there’s a line of parents already out there waiting in their cars to pick their kids up. Oh shit, it must be bad. Was it the kindergarten? Or the Catholic prep school?

Our mom is upset. She says she doesn’t want to talk about it while driving. She’ll show us the news on the TV when we get home.

We get home and steel ourselves to face the news, fully expecting to see the names of close friends and neighbors listed among the dead.

So please imagine how appalled our dear mother is when we say, “Wait a minute- all this fuss is because some buildings are on fire in a completely different state?!”

“As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.”

Dear Joe Finigan. What the fuck made you say that. Please tell me, did you genuinely imagine terrorists being like

“At this time, our target is the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. But next, we shall target a mediocre school in a bland suburban town that nobody has ever heard of! Ohoho! Ah hah ha ha!”

Anyway, there’s something to be said about how after both events, the US response was, “You see, this is why we need more guns. We tooootally promise they’ll only be used to hurt Bad Guys! After all, we’re the Good Guys! USA! USA!”

[jinmukangwrites]

Bad Things Happen Bingo; To Tomorrow

Prompt: Childhood Trauma

Fandom: Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order; Survivor

Rating: T

Warnings: Panic Attacks, minor injury.

Notes: There are no Survivor spoilers, but if you've played the game you know what scene inspired this fic :)

Ao3

Summary: Cal doesn't like escape pods.

-o-o-o-o-

This is too similar, Cal thinks.

The issue is that he didn't think that until it was already too late. He's had other things on his mind, things like dragging Merrin through the cold Imperial hallways of a Star Destroyer.

She took a blaster to the hip shortly after it became obvious that they miscalculated how many troops would be stationed on this ship at this moment. It was supposed to be an easy infiltration; sneak in, grab data, escape. With Merrin, it should have been a cake-walk, but with most things when it came to Cal, even cake-walks can go deadly.

Alarms blared overhead, and Cal didn't know if his grasp was tighter around Merrin's waist or on the data-disk. She clutched to his jacket, swearing Dathomirian curses with every step, as Cal rushed through the halls following BD's near panicked instructions. Well, rushed is a generous word, however there's not really a good word for limping in agonized purpose because he also took an electro-staff to the knee.

He could hear troopers gathering behind them, giving chase, catching up. All he could think was Save Merrin, ignore his own pain, extract the data, escape. He didn't bat an eye when they finally arrived at a long hallway of escape pods, and he didn't hesitate to tell BD-1 to slice one open.

The second he stumbled with Merrin in tow into the escape pod, the enemy had caught up.

He should have recognized the anxiety, the familiar panic, that swirled in his stomach at the sight of them. He raised a hand to grab as many as he could within the Force and slam them down, but he didn't catch all of them. The few stormtroopers that remained standing didn't waste time aiming and shooting. With his hands full of Merrin, he didn't think to deflect the bolts with his lightsaber. He turned his shoulders and covered her from their fire, collapsing as agony ripped through his shoulder, side, calf.

He tumbled, and Merrin cursed, scrambling to one knee to lift herself upright. With an agonized scream, green fire flared around the remaining stormtroopers. Cal didn't get to see what their fate was before BD-1 closed the escape pod and activated the launching mechanisms.

It's then that Cal can think, laying on the ground with several wounds, sweat lining his brow.

This. Is too similar.

The world lurches, and so does his stomach. Merrin has him by the shoulders, hauling him to one of the seats lining the walls. He thinks briefly that maybe he wasn't fully responsible for dragging her here, maybe she helped drag him here too judging by her panicked strength. She's careful with her hip as she buckles him in, letting out several strings of insults and threats that would come into play if they don't survive this. He doesn't have time to humor her anger before the escape pod jolts again, and his stomach jumps to his throat.

She finishes securing him before she collapses into a chair of her own on the opposite wall, her hip twisted and her teeth clenched.

He wants to ask her if she's ok. He wants to apologize for this going so wrong. He wants-

The escape pod enters the atmosphere of the planet below, and everything Cal thinks and wants flies out the window.

The slam of atmosphere, air, gravity, it's too much when combined with the setting and the situation. Everything's shaking, and he brings his hands to his temples, eyes squeezed shut. He can hear it. He can see it.

Jaro Tapal's last words. The burn across his jaw. The shouts of murderous clone troopers. The shaking of the pod as he scrambles back, breathing hard, chest aching, hands shaking, eyes blurry as he screams.

Finally, the universe crashes around him, and the escape pod skids on rough terrain into a rougher stop. The lights flicker, and there's several seconds of silence, and Cal is momentarily aware of himself. He's curled up on the chair with his hands tangled in his hair. His cheeks are wet with tears, and the position he's in does no favors for his injuries.

He looks over to Merrin, and his vision blurs.

She's there, across from him, but she didn't manage to properly secure herself before they entered the atmosphere. She slumped in the chair with her eyes closed. There's a tear in the skin above her left eye, near the temple going into her hairline. Blood drips down her chalky skin, stains her gray hair. If she's alive, she's certainly not conscious. She must have hit her head on something within the jolts of the pod.

Panic seizes Cal. This isn't fight or flight, this is past and present.

This is Jaro Tapal, laying dead on the floor, Bogano rain slamming on the roof, louder than hail. This is Merrin, laying so still, so still.

He can't breathe. He can't think. He can't move. He needs to move. He needs to move. Who knows if there are clones who will follow, find him and finish the job. He needs to hide, run, disappear.

No, no he needs to get out of this seat and make sure Merrin is ok. He needs to scout his surroundings, contact Greeze for extraction.

He.

He can't move. He's hyperventilating. It's stupid. It's stupid. He's been in escape pods a handful of other times, not enough to get used to them but enough to know he should be able to push down the panic and keep functioning until he's out of danger.

Merrin is so still.

Master's skin is already so cold.

"Buh," he gasps, his voice raw and wet. His hands are cramping, muscles close to seizing, his head pounds. "BD, st- stim, Merrin, please-"

He gasps and curls in tighter around himself, not able to pay enough attention if BD-1 followed his instructions. He gasps, sobs, falling deeper and deeper within the pain that it takes him entirely too long to realize there are hands on his own. A pressure at his side.

He focuses on the contact. Her skin is smooth, her grip strong. She rubs at his knuckles until his hands eventually loosen around his hair. The second he's no longer at risk of tearing out his own hair, her hands are clasping his. He holds onto her, sobbing and leaning forward so his head hits her chest.

She whispers, her voice far away, but comforting, as she holds him. BD chirps sadly, pressing deeper into his side.

"I'm sorry," he gasps. "I'm sorry."

"You're okay," Merrin responds, voice strained and tired. "You're safe."

He shakes his head. She doesn't understand; no one does. There's not a single living creature who knows what happened that day, who knows the terror and the memories that haunt him still a decade later.

She continues to whisper comforting things, holding him as long as he holds her. It takes what feels like years for his breathing to calm down and his vision to clear. His eyes feel swollen, and the various injuries he's gathered are starting to protest at his position. He lets out a low moan, uncurling and wincing at the pain, wiping his eyes so he can finally look at her.

The STIM healed the worst of the cut, but her skin is flushed and eyes wet. "Are," he croaks, "are you okay?"

Her lips thin. "More than you. BD-1 contacted Greeze, we have to start moving to a pick-up point. Are you okay to move?

Cal takes a deep breath. "Get me out of this kriffing pod."

She nods and unhooks him from the straps of the chair. Distantly, he feels like he should be embarrassed to have something so simple done for him, but as she helps him to his feet, leaning him on her good side, he can't bring himself to care. All he can do is limp with her out of the pod, focusing on his breathing and doing everything he can to carry his own weight. He fails miserably at this, but Merrin doesn't complain. He almost considers asking BD-1 for a STIM, but ultimately decides his injuries aren't life threatening, and he doesn't think the added adrenaline boost STIMs provide would mix well with his current mental state.

Cal can't bring himself to remember the name of the planet they've crashed on, but it's rocky and humid, even in the darkness of night. BD-1 scouts ahead, trilling the correct directions and best footholds.

The further they leave the pod behind them, the more Cal feels like he doesn't have to consciously force himself to breathe.

When they finally collapse on the top of a flat, rock plated hill, Cal leans against Merrin's shoulder and focuses himself within the present. It takes a few moments for him to find his voice, and when he does it still sounds raw.

"That could have gone better," he breathes.

Merrin huffs, staring up at the stars and holding a tight arm around his waist. "Do you... wish to talk about it?"

BD-1 chirps, nudging Cal's knee. A wet laugh escapes Cal's chest and he shakes his head. "Some things I can't bring myself to talk about yet," he whispers. "But thank you for getting me out of it."

"You do the same for me," Merrin replies softly. Cal blinks at that. He's not sure he's ever seen Merrin react like he just did to something, but he supposes people process old, lingering trauma differently, he doesn't feel the need to pry.

Some of the stars move in the sky in a way that is very much not star-like. The lights grow closer, and the silhouette of the Mantis grows closer above them.

"Come, Cal," Merrin says gently, slowly getting to her feet. Cal groans, but follows her up, holding onto her arm for balance. "The past may wound us, but tomorrow can always heal if we let it."

Cal chuckles softly, eyes wet, squeezing her arm. "Thank you, Merrin," he says, genuinely, chest full of appreciation, a welcome difference from the tightness it had been not long before. "To tomorrow, then."

[braveclementine]

Chapter 2

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💚💚.

Dear Elizabeth, Ron just wrote me to tell me that he and Fred and George are going to try and save Harry. That's the way he put it anyways. I think he just means going and picking him up. I certainly hope they don't do anything dangerous or against the wizarding rules. I'm incredibly busy with homework and studying-I'm sure you're doing the same. I just wrote a letter to Ron saying that I'm going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday. Will you be able to make it? . I'm still waiting to hear back from Ron. I figure we should get our Hogwarts letters sometime this week. Love, Hermione

I sighed, setting aside the letter. Hogwarts again. Now don't get me wrong, I love Hogwarts, it's my home away from home but. . .I closed my eyes, laying down on the bed. I'd nearly been killed three times and had jumped from a window to escape death. I could only imagine what horrible things were going to happen this year.

Knock it off, I scolded myself. You put yourself in that situation, if you had just been as obedient as every other kid, you wouldn't have been in that situation. Just don't do anything stupid or irresponsible this year.

Easier said than done though. I turned away from the letter and went over to the music player, putting on a Beatles record. Then, laying down on my bed, I closed my eyes, thinking, looking into this upcoming year.

My visions worked funny. I can't just see into a year, it's like there's a block on them until I get closer to the actual date. But sometimes- and only sometimes- if I concentrated enough, I could get a farther view.

"I wanna hold your hand. . ."

I concentrated farther. The visions moved fast, some of them melting together and others stood out like pictures on a wall. A sudden image of a young blond man with extravagant clothes was standing in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Then red paint on a wall. Then, water on the floor. A potion bubbling in the bathroom. Then, hissing and-

"ELIZABETH!" Dad called from somewhere downstairs.

I jumped, falling off my bed and knocking over the record player. It crashed to the ground. "Idiot." I muttered, pushing myself up off the ground, getting to my feet. I wasn't entirely sure if I was talking about myself or dad.

Dad appeared in the doorway. He surveyed the damage and then grimaced. "Trying to meditate?"

"Something like that," I muttered, pulling out my wand and pointing it at the record player.

"Elizabeth." Dad's voice had warning in it and I sighed, putting down my wand. Dad pulled out his own wand. "Reparo." He said calmly and the record player was repaired. Then, putting his own wand away, he said, "You know you're not supposed to do magic outside of school."

I picked up the player, putting it on my dresser. I'd just said I was going to stop being a rebel and here I was, already breaking the new found resolution. Maybe I should wait until New Years to make the resolution. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Come on downstairs, we have stuff to talk about." Dad said, leaving the room.

Seeing that there was no choice, I followed. I slumped into a seat at the breakfast table. "What happened?" I asked dully. I had forgotten about going and seeing him when he went up to his room last night.

"I got a erm, new job." Dad said uncomfortably, stirring his tea. I sat up and stared at him, trying to find out what was so bad about this new opportunity.

"Okay. . ." I said slowly, thinking, frowning in concentration.

"I'm going to have to leave next Wednesday." He said, "Which means that I won't be able to transport you to Kings Crossing on September 1st."

"Oh that's okay!" I said immediately. Whatever made things easier for Dad. "Ronald Weasley invited me to stay at his house. We're all planning on meeting up at Diagon Alley next Wednesday anyways. I can just go and stay with him. Or Hermione probably wouldn't mind either."

Dad blinked in surprise. "You didn't tell me your friends asked you to stay over."

I blushed. "Grounded, remember?"

Dad gave me an amused smile. "You're going to stay out of trouble this year, right?"

"Yes, and I'm going to make the Hufflepuff Quidditch team." I said. "So that broom doesn't go to waste."

At that moment, my rabbit Sushi sprinted through the room, did a lap around the table, and then did binkies back into the hallway.

"Awww." I squealed, my whole body tightening up in happiness. "You're so-" Then I stopped, turning to my dad and asked seriously. "Wait, who's going to take care of Sushi?"

Dad chuckled, "You would be worried about that, wouldn't you?" He smoothed my hair back with his hand, "I already asked Trang's parents to watch him. They're delighted."

"Oh good." I said happily, relaxing. "I'm going to go upstairs and pack."

"Already?" Dad asked in surprise.

"Well, I also have to send an answer to Ron and my bedroom's a mess so I need to locate everything." I said, blushing again.

"Oh, that's right." Dad said, taking a sip of tea. "I'll be cooking dinner tonight."

"Aww, dad I can still do that." I said.

Dad waved his hand. "It'll taste fine."

I hesitated. "Wait, no."

Dad frowned. "I don't cook that badly."

I laughed. "It's not that, I want to celebrate this new job opportunity. Come on, I'll take you out to eat."

Dad looked even more surprised than he had before. "Take me out to eat? Where?"

I jumped up and down in joy. "There's this great restaurant that you haven't been to before. It's called Panda Inn here. But in the U.S. it's called Panda Express. Apparently, they're supposed to have this delicious chicken that Trang calls Orange chicken. I've been wanting to try it for a long time now!"

Dad laughed and grinned. "So is this celebration for me or for you to try out your chicken?"

"Guilty." I said, grinning back.

"Oh," Dad said, picking up a piece of mail. "This came for you."

I grabbed it. "My Hogwarts letter!" I flipped it over and glared at him. "It's already open. That's a crime you know."

Dad laughed. "Only if you tell. The books ought to be interesting though."

I read over the list quickly.

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

"I have to get and read all of these?" I asked revolted by the matching of letters like a children's book. "What a waste of money."

I finally got a real laugh out of dad. Then he grinned at me, "Wonder what he wrote about the Werewolves?"

I gave him a reluctant smile. "I'll read that one first and tell you."

"Alright, so go get ready." Dad said, finishing off his tea, "I'll be waiting."

I stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Dad, it's a Muggle restaurant."

"So?" He looked at me confused.

"You need to go get dressed in Muggle clothes." I said, my lips twitching upwards into an amused smile. I waved a hand at his wizarding robes.

"Oh that's right." He muttered. "Let's see who gets ready the fastest."

I giggled sprinting up the stairs, and I heard a crack in the dining room, telling me he had apparated. "CHEATER!" I shouted, dashing into my bedroom. I heard him laughing from his room.

I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my purse, quickly checking to see how much money I had. I flipped through the bills- £60. Great, that should be enough to cover dinner tonight. I turned out the light and then dashed back downstairs. Yes! I'd beaten dad.

I bit my lip, slightly amused. I was eleven- almost twelve- why was I being so childish? I had this problem a lot. This was something we hadn't done since I was maybe eight. I sighed. Perhaps dad felt bad about leaving, or maybe there was something he wasn't telling me.

Dad popped down next to me with another crack. "Alright you win."

I grinned up at him. I'd question him tonight at dinner. "Let's go."

.💚💚.

𝕴 𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖉 𝖎𝖓 bed, staring up at the ceiling. I kept messing with the ring dad had given me for my birthday. Turning it over, feeling along it. It was a baby dragon ring, sometimes it curled its tail around my finger tighter. Sometimes it moved its head and I felt a little warmth along my palm. It was green, and sparkly, and felt like it was made of glass but it wasn't.

I sighed, rolling over, and carefully placed it on the bedside table. It curled up and I stared at it. I tried to figure out what was nagging me.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. Trang was leaving for America tomorrow, I was going to go and see her off at the airport.

I fell into sleep.

A shadowy figure stood on the edge of a large walkway. There were hissing noises and a snake slithered out and reached up to the person's waist. It was an anaconda snake, a type of water snake- native to the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil.

'Dangeroussss thingssss are going to happen. . . more dangerousssss than perhapssss the firsst time. . .' The boy whispered to the snake. He stayed in the shadows so all I could see was that he was tall. So the boy spoke parseltongue? But how could I possibly understand what they were saying? Oh, right, I must be dreaming.

The snake's tongue flicked in and out, 'find the ssssprocket, find the ssink, it all worksss asss well asss you think.'

So snakes could rhyme? Strange.

The boy turned to face me and all I could see were two, glowing red eyes.

I woke up with a start, sweating. I looked over at the clock. It was six in the morning. I slumped back down on my bed. Once my breathing returned back to normal, I climbed out of bed to start my day.

I quickly got dressed for a muggy day- jeans, a T-shirt, and a light rain jacket. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and tucked my locket under my shirt. I hadn't felt it burn in ages, so I felt safe wearing it under my clothes again.

I hesitated, looking at the ring, and finally realized why I felt so weird last night- I hadn't sent Harry anything for his birthday. But, he could definitely still be at his house, I hadn't heard back from Ron yet for confirmation about staying with him next week.

I picked up the dragon ring and put it close to my finger. It curled around it and I smiled. I was going to have to thank Dad again.

I grabbed my purse, put on my leather black combat boots, and ran down the stairs to go see Trang off at the airport.

.💚💚.

𝕭𝖞 𝖂𝖊𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖉𝖆𝖞, 𝕴 was packed and ready to go. My trunk was full of my Hogwarts robes, quills, ink bottles, and textbooks that I would need this year. Any book I didn't need was left on my bed. Any book I didn't need, but I wanted to bring, were packed in my leather school bag.

Dad had already left an hour ago so I didn't need to worry about good-byes anymore. I dragged my heavy trunk into the fireplace. I pulled my bag over my head, slinging it on my shoulder. I checked my pocket to make sure that my wand was still there.

I checked that I was wearing my locket, bracelet from Fred last Christmas, and my dragon ring. Then, I grabbed a handful of floo powder from the pot next to the fireplace and stepped into the fireplace. I threw it down and shouted "Diagon alley!"

I felt the spinning sensation and clutched tightly to my trunk so we'd both get out at the right time. When I saw the grate, I leaned forward and fell out. My trunk clattered down next to me and I quickly set it right side up and started pulling it towards the exit. Damn, why was this thing so freaking heavy?

"Elizabeth! Hey Elizabeth!" I heard my name being shouted by a familiar voice. I turned, a smile on my face.

George and Fred Weasley ran up to me. Their bright red hair was combed back the same way. They were still rather thin and tall.

"Hey guys." I said cheerfully, punching George's arm and smiling at Fred, "What's up?"

"Nothing much." George said, chuckling, punching me back lightly. "You?"

"I'm not looking forward to these stupid books we have to buy." I said with an eye roll. "They're ridiculously expensive and sound incredibly stupid."

Fred and George laughed but looked strained.

"Yeah, they are expensive." Fred said quietly, mostly to himself.

I bit my lip. I shouldn't be complaining. I'd grown up poor, but now I had a huge allowance from my parents. On the other hand, Fred and George had grown up poor and were still poor. I decided to get enough gold out of the bank so they could buy their own sets.

Mr. Weasley got out of the fire next and Fred introduced me to him.

"Harry should be coming next." Mr. Weasley said, when we were done with introductions. I waited eagerly, unable to control my excitement. While Harry didn't know that we were related, I did, and I was glad we were friends.

However, the next person that came out of the fire was Percy Weasley. He looked around as he came up to his father and asked, "Did Harry not come out?"

We all shook our heads. Percy cursed and said, "Harry went before me but he mixed up his words."

We all froze. "So. . . we don't know where he is?" I asked.

Percy nodded. Ron came out of the fire next. I closed my eyes, trying to see if I could find Harry. There- he was in a dark shop, a man with blond hair in the room with him. It looked like Harry was hiding in something. I didn't know exactly where he was, but in the end I could only figure one place like this.

"Elizabeth?" Fred asked. "You okay?"

"Oh, um yeah." I said. I quickly put my trunk up against the wall with other trunks, and locked it. Then I took off, Fred yelling my name behind me. Now which was was Knockturn Alley? I ran down the streets, probably looking crazy.

Then, I ran into Hagrid, who was walking up the streets with Harry.

"Lousy Muggles, If I'd known-" Hagrid was saying. "Careful where yer goin' Elizabeth!" he added as I bounced off of him. He reached out with a large hand and caught me before I fell on the street.

"Thanks Hagrid. Hi Harry!" I beamed.

"Hi Elizabeth." Harry said, smiling back shyly.

I heard a voice behind me saying "Harry! Elizabeth! Over here!"

I turned to see Hermione running down the Gringotts steps. "Hello Elizabeth!" Hermione said, embracing me.

Harry, Hermione, and I walked up the Gringotts steps with Hagrid.

"What happened to your glasses?" Hermione was asking Harry. "Hello, Hagrid- Oh it's wonderful to see you two again- are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," Harry said with a grin, giving me a proper hug now that things had settled down.

"Let me see your glasses." I said, holding my hand out.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait." Hagrid said with a grin, pointing down the street.

The three of us peered down the street. Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley were all sprinting up the street towards us. I pulled out my wand and tapped Harry's glasses with my wand. "Reparo." His glasses snapped together and the glass shards connected again.

"Thanks." Harry said, putting his glasses back on.

"Yeh know yer not su'ppose ter be doin' magic outside of school Elizabeth." Hagrid chastised but he was grinning. The Ministry wouldn't know I was doing magic underage considering Diagon Alley was pretty much as magical and non-Muggle as you could get in London.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said panting, as they caught up to us. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far. . . Molly's frantic- she's coming now-" He mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

"Where'd you turn out?" Ron asked, curious.

"Knockturn Alley." Hagrid said grimly.

"Excellent." Fred, George, and I all said together and then we all grinned at each other.

"We've never been allowed in." Ron said, sounding jealous.

"I should ruddy well think not." Hagrid growled at him.

I saw Mrs. Weasley running up the steps now, a handbag swinging violently from one hand, a little red-headed girl clutching her other hand. That must be Fred's little sister Ginny.

I started walking into Gringotts. I wanted to get the money so that I could get it to Fred and George before they left. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran up to join me.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked. That must've been the store that I'd seen him in.

"Lucius Malfoy?" I asked.

"Yeah, and Draco." Harry said, giving me a surprised.

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Mr. Weasley asked from behind us.

"No, he was selling-" Harry said.

"So he's worried. Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something. . ." Mr. Weasley said slowly and with some sort of satisfaction.

I didn't know Lucius Malfoy, but if he was anything like his son, than he was probably an evil git. Plus, I was fairly certain that he had been a Death Eater. By fairly certain I meant 100%. Oh the things rich people get away with.

We entered Gringotts and I told Harry and Ron to come with me. Ron was more than willing and we left Hermione in the main hall with her parents, who were exchanging Muggle Money for Wizarding coins. Mrs. Weasley went her separate way with Ginny.

We went to Harry's vault first. He had quite a bit of money, though perhaps a bit less than I did. Then we went to my vault. I filled two bags and then we went back up to the surface. I gave Ron half of one of the bags and winked at him and then went off to join Fred and George. I heard Ron sputtering behind me and Harry laughing.

Fred, George, and I met up with Lee Jordan outside the bank. I heard Mrs. Weasley shout from behind us. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!"

Fred, George, and I laughed. That was the first place we visited. Fred and George went down two steps, Lee went down three. I went down the entire way and then sprinted back up. It became a competition until someone appeared at the end of the corridor and we all sprinted the entire way back towards Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop.

We relaxed, laughing.

"Mum's going to kill us if she finds out." George muttered, looking through the different types of fireworks.

"She's not going to find out." I said pleasantly. "So don't worry about it."

"Oh yeah, Ron says that you're coming to stay with us for the last couple weeks of vacation." Fred said, "Is that true?"

I nodded, "Yeah, my dad got a new work assignment and he had to leave today, so I had no way to get to Hogwarts later. So, since Ron had already invited me to stay, I accepted."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry came into the shop some time later, when we were about to leave. I wandered off on my own for a little bit, buying parchment and new quills. I also bought different types of ink. I was really going to miss my Muggle pens again this year.

I met up with Fred, George, Lee, Hermione, Ron, and Harry as we made our way to Flourish and Blotts. There were many other people trying to get into the shop. I looked at all the witches, a little amused, a little annoyed, cause there were not many wizards.

There was a banner in the window saying:

GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist." She smoothed her hair between her hands. It was a battle lost before she started it- her hair was never going to stop being bushy on its own.

I hung back with Fred, George, and Lee, internally groaning. Bloody hell, what a mess this was. I probably wouldn't be able to check the shelves for extra books because the walls would be crowded by witches. Maybe the owner would have some put away specially for me like he sometimes did when he thought I'd like something. Dad and I were his best customers.

We squeezed inside, past the adults. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I each grabbed the Grade 2 book we needed off the stack by the door. Fred, George, and Lee each got books that they needed for their fourth year.

We went to stand next to the Weasley's and Grangers. I found myself next to Harry and turned to talk to him.

"How was your summer?"

"Could've been better." He said. "Honestly, I would've written back."

I grinned. "Oh I know, Dobby stopped you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He asked in surprise.

"I know a lot of things." I said quickly. "But I actually just overheard you telling Hagrid."

Harry laughed.

At that moment, Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view and seated himself at a long table. There were many portraits of his face, winking and flashing on the table. The real man himself was wearing robes of light blue that matched his eyes. His hair was wavy and he wore a wizard's hat at an angle so not to mess up those waves. I stared at him with a mixture of horror and also giddiness.

He was extremely handsome though, I did have to admit that. I felt my cheeks grow red and I rubbed them, cursing internally. Stupid female hormones.

There was a short man wearing black and brandishing a black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash that emitted a smell of apricots. The reporter stepped backwards onto Ron's foot. "Get out of the way." The photographer snarled. "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big Deal." Ron snarled back, holding his foot and rubbing it.

Lockhart apparently heard their interaction because he looked up at Ron. Then he moved his eyes along our line, eyeing Harry and then me. He leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

"Oh bloody hell." I muttered as everyone in the store started whispering even more excitedly than they had moments ago when Lockhart had appeared.

The crowd parted as Lockhart walked down the stairs towards us. He grabbed Harry's arm and then, to my surprise, grabbed my arm as well, dragging us both up to the front of the room. I looked back at Fred, panicking. He looked just as surprised as I did.

Lockhart put one arm around each of our shoulders. I didn't smile as the photographer took pictures. "Nice big smile, Harry." Lockhart said through his own teeth. I didn't dare look at him in case the newspaper made my action out to be something other than disgust or confusion. As it was, I was panicking.

He didn't let us go when the pictures were done and I was starting to get strangely uncomfortable. "Ladies and gentlemen." He said loudly and the crowd quieted down. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry and his sister here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography- which I shall be happy to present them now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded, but I risked a glance at Harry. He looked at me, looking as confused as I was. The only difference being that my heart was pounding like crazy. Did Lockhart know somehow? I mean, surely not? I looked at the Weasleys. They were looking back and forth between Harry and I. The crowd was whispering. This was a complete nightmare. I should never have come. That seemed to be my signature line.

"They had no idea-" Lockhart continued, not caring about anything else but his little announcement. "that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. They and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

I groaned out loud but no one could hear me for the explosion of noise that burst in the bookshop. I wanted to die of embarrassment. I found myself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart, even more books than I needed for school.

I struggled back down to the Weasleys, Harry following me. I handed the books to Fred. "Keep them, I don't want them. Especially since he gave them to me for an incorrect reason."

"So you're not really my sister?" Harry asked behind me, and thankfully he was grinning.

I shook my head, my heart breaking that I couldn't tell him that I was. "I don't know why he thought that, we don't even look alike."

The Weasleys all seemed to accept this, but the others in the shop that had overheard were not as convinced and rumors were spreading. I was sure something was going to make the headlines. Bloody hell.

Harry tipped his books into Ginny's cauldron, telling her she could have his books. He'd buy his own. We went up and bought our books and then waited by Ginny's cauldron. I handed George money so that he could buy his own set. When Lee had his set, we all started to walk towards the back of the shop.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Said a sneering voice. We looked up to see Draco Malfoy and I tightened my grip on my huge stack of books. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said suddenly. I'd never heard her voice before but she had such a sweet voice.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy drawled, giving Ginny a look over.

"Shut the hell up Malfoy." I snarled.

"Oh Kane." Malfoy said, sneering. "How'd you like being compared to someone as pathetic as Potter?"

"I would be quite proud to be Harry's sister." I said, speaking the truth for once on the subject of our sibling hood.

Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both of them clutching stacks of books.

"Oh, it's you." Ron said, giving Malfoy a disgusted look. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

For a moment I was confused and then I remembered that they believed Dobby was the House Elf of the Malfoys. Of course, they were right, but I wasn't going to tell them that.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley." Malfoy retorted, looking a bit confused himself. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny and dropped his books into her cauldron. She nearly dropped the cauldron under the weight of two stacks of Lockhart books. Hermione and Harry reached out and grabbed the back of Ron's shirt as he went to hit Draco.

Fred and George were giving Malfoy an angry look. I touched Fred's hand softly and looked up at him and shook my head. It wasn't worth it. Lee was looking angry too, his arms crossed.

"Ron! Fred! George!" Mr. Weasley said struggling through the crowd to get to the back of the store. I felt my stomach drop, seeing a small glimpse of what was about to happen. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

Now, I tugged on Fred's arm, trying to get us to leave before. . .

"Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley." A tall man with long blond hair and piercing gray-blue eyes was standing there now. He could almost be called handsome in his own way if he didn't have such a cruel, smirking look on his face. I felt my cheeks grow red again, the way they had when looking at Lockhart. Hm, maybe there was something wrong with me today. But he was quite good-looking. I supposed even bad people could look good.

"Lucius." Mr. Weasley said, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids. . . I hope they're paying you overtime?"

I gritted my teeth as he reached into Ginny's cauldron and picking out an extremely battered second-hand copy of her Transfiguration book.

"Obviously not." Mr. Malfoy said, his lip curled upwards. Draco stood to the side, smirking. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Fred and George gave a start and I grabbed both of them by the arms. My bag with all my books was cutting into my shoulder. Lee helped me out, restraining them. Mr. Weasley flushed a dark red. Mrs. Weasley, and the Grangers started coming over.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." Mr. Weasley said under his breath.

"Like you." I piped up, giving him a jaunty smile.

Mr. Malfoy's gaze flicked over to me, and Draco dropped his smile. Fred smiled and relaxed. I no longer felt a reason to restrain him anymore.

Then, Malfoy's eyes flicked over to where Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing, watching the whole occurrence with Mrs. Weasley, who looked extremely nervous. "Clearly," Mr. Malfoy said, narrowing his eyes at the Grangers. Hermione blushed red and Mrs. Granger took a step back and shot a terrified look at her husband. "The company you keep, Weasley. . .and I thought your family could sink no lower-"

Hermione flushed even darker than the rest of us, and there was a thud as Ginny's cauldron went flying. I ducked to avoid it, Lee quickly pulling me out of the way.

Multiple people were yelling. Fred and George were yelling "Get him Dad!"; Draco was yelling, "Get your filthy hands off of him!"; Mrs. Weasley was shouting "No, Arthur, no!"; The assistant was shouting, "Gentlemen, please- please, the books!"

Then there was a louder voice, not yelling, but louder and much calmer saying, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up-"

Hagrid waded through the crowd and he pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart from each other, holding them each in one hand. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had a bruised eye. He was still holding Ginny's Transfiguration book. He thrusted it back in her cauldron, his eyes glittering with malice and an image flashed in my mind of a little black book.

Without another word, he pulled himself from Hagrid's grip and tried to march out the bookstore with dignity. Well! That wasn't happening. Pulling my wand I quickly whispered, "Offendo." Lucio's Malfoy tripped over his own two feet and fell flat on his face. There was some tittering and laughter from the crowd. Draco looked back and glared at me. I smiled and waved and turned my back on him. I slipped my wand back up my sleeve.

We were leaving now, with the urging of Hagrid. I trailed behind the rest of the group with Lee. Hermione was with her parents, Harry was with Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys were crowded around their parents. Lee and I walked in silence until we were about to part.

"I saw that tripping jinx." Lee said with a smile. "Nice work, I'm going to find a lot of hard spells this year for you to try."

I smiled back, "Thanks Lee. Have a great rest of your vacation."

I waved and hurried to catch up with the rest of the group. We were going to leave through the Leaky Cauldron instead of the Floo station. I went to get my trunk and then met up with the others in Leaky Cauldron.

We said good-bye to the Grangers and Hermione. I decided, as I stepped into the fireplace, that I could wait for Hogwarts to start. Who didn't like a nice vacation?

⬅️➡️

[teddybeartoji]

hello this is me rambling about monkey man (2024)! LONG story very short it was very very good i loved it very very much. a lot of good action a lot of blood a lot of me smiling. spoilers under cut!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oke oke deep breath in and a deep one out. i will try to make this as understandable as possible but i feel like i'm genuinely tweaking a little bit rn. from the film and also from the new meds so yk bear with me also wait this is incredibly incredibly biased bc i love fighting and i love action hehe

anyway. this was dev patel's directorial debut and uuhhhhh. well. he fucking did it. i. there's nothing bad to say. it's very obvious that he loves films; loves being in them, loves watching them, loves learning them, loves making them. it's clear that he did his homework for this. he mentioned in an interview how he's been an action lover ever since he was a kid but he was just never offered the right role. he talks about how he got scripts for just being the side-kick, the tech guy yk some random guy who just gets A Moment. but he knew he had way more to offer and fuck yeah he did.

so idk who happens to be reading this fuck ass review but if you by any chance don't know who dev patel is by name, maybe you've heard of slumdog millionaire (2008) or lion (2016) or the green knight (2021). point is that he's really fucking good and he deserves more recognition. blabla i'm not actually doing a review i will be going insane now.

i LOVE when mc's fucking suck ass. i love when they get beat. i love when they're weak it's just sooooo fucking boring when they're immediately some untouchable god. it feels good to watch them learn how to control their need to just go apeshit bc that simply... won't fucking work lmao. i love when the mc's are nervous, are just so determined to go through with their plan even though they're obviously in over their head. it's delicious and it's my favourite trope. honorary mention to indiana jones my favourite fucking nerd loser who gets into fights and then groans and moans and sweats and man he just wants to ramble about his little artefacts.

i loved the first big fight!!!!!!!!!!! it's between the mc with the shaky hands and the police chief who very obviously knows how to fight. (the mc kind of does too he does boxing matches for money but he's kinda bad yk). it's super bloody and it gets soooooo fucking messy. a random person happens to be there too and now the mc has to deal with two people and well shit. he's just now fucking doing well. he's getting beat, he's getting stabbed, he's being choked, his gun is fuck knows where and yeah everything is just bad.

though in my head i kept thinking about how i wish i could see the fighting a bit more. the scenes were short, cut after cut after cut, the camera moved around and it was placed at weird angles (IT'S WASN'T ACTUALLY BAD THOUGH THIS IS JUST ME BEING REALLY PICKY RN) but i wasn't too upset bc messy fights are also very fun, not every fight can be a dance and that's completely fine. so it was very fast paced, a lot was happening but it did all suit the situation - adrenaline filled mc fights his big ass nemesis in a public place - ofc it's gonna be messy.

also when he tries to finally escape the situation he decides to jump through a window to get into the main room - the glass doesn't break and he just falls down to the floor. 5+ i love that shit so much.

and thennnnnnn. just when i was again thinking about how every fight can't be beautiful blabla it's only natural etc etc - he enters his little training arc. btw i thought the training arc was made very well (overall the film had a lot of the so called Cliches but i thought they all worked perfectly and i had no complaints abt them).

anyway... the thing he learns is Rhythm. i almost made some sort of a noise when i realized this okay i got very giddy. he starts learning about how fighting isn't just throwing punches like he has been doing but it's about flow and rhythm and focus - a dance. while he's practicing his punches, a guy at the temple starts setting him a pattern with his drums and through that he learns how to make his movements smoother, sharper, how to lose the unnecessary steps, how to stay more clear headed, so he wouldn't just go in thrashing but with an actual goal in mind. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaafuck i loved that soooooooooooooo much

and it made a change. during the next fights, the camera stood still more, the shots were wider, you could actually see what he's doing. it's was messy only in a sense of that blood was being splattered everywhere but the fighting itself did turn into a kind of a dance. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YOUUU IT WAS SO COOL OKAY I'M GEEKING RN I'M TRYING SO HARD TO STAY FOCUSED HERE

YOU KNOW A PERSON IS AN ACTION FAN WHEN THEY KNOW HOW TO GET CREATIVE WITH IT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. deep breaths deep breaths. it's not only about guns and knives (although i do love my guns and knives) - it's about pots, pans, toilet seats, trays, walls, furniture, the ground itself. everything can be used in a fight and i fucking love it. another honorary mention just bc i want to and this one goes out to atomic blonde (2017) where the female mc has to fight multiple men and she too uses just about everything that's around her - the fridge, a hose, a pan, a glass table; later in another fight she uses a corkscrew, she uses a ministove etc etc. it just makes the fight sooo much more interesting and you can play around with it sooooooooooo much you can literally do anything. i'm soooo normal right nowwwwwwwwwww my hands are shaking.

speaking of cool moves i'd like to point some out from this one too. the mc is fighting in an elevator against two guys, it's a knife fight (btw i am very obviously veeeery geeked abt this too bc i love when the fighting is happening in a small closed space wahh it's so cool). he kills one of the guys and then he's pressing his knife at the other guy's neck right. he doesn't have much power bc the guy is pushing against his knife hand and he's using his other hand to hold the guy against the wall. he manages to press the knife in a little bit and then... he leans closer... and bites the handle... and pushes it inside the guy's throat with his mouth. his teeth? you get my point. IT WAS FUCKING SICK AS FUCK THE BLOOD SPLATTERED EVERYWHERE AND HE LOOKED INSANE AND I THINK I MIGHT'VE ACTUALLY GASPED OUT LOUD AT THIS I WON'T EVEN LIE

have to also mention the Axe Fight. very fucking cool i'm sorry i don't have any other words in my vocabulary rn but it really was cool. an axe is such an interesting weapon to go against bc it has the range and it has the weight. it's very hard to stop right? like you can't just fucking parry that shit lmao + the shape of the blade is a little too fucked for that. but it does have it's downsides - since it's heavy it can get stuck very easily - it gets stuck in the walls and in the floor, giving the mc a moment to counter back. it has the range but lacks in speed - for you to really do any damage you have to take the second to give it momentum which also gives your opponent time to strike. bonk now i'm just yapping about axes apparently are you still here i love you

OH WAIT BEFORE I FORGET I HAVE TO SAY THAT THE MUSIC THEY PICKED FOR THIS FUCKING FILM FUCKED SO HARD. SO DAMN HARD. I WAS BONERED UP JUST FROM THAT WHEWWW.

another cool little thing was that they mentioned john wick hihihii. that was fun i like the little show of appreciation for other films in films. i think it's very cute. like omfgg yeahhh i fucking loved your film i need to mention it in my own one!!!! yeahhhhh!!!!! very lovely

oke i have one more cool move to offer and it is theeeee knife through the hand move!!!!! everybody cheers!!!! the mc already has a knife in his stomach and the super evil bad guy is going to stab him with another one but the mc takes the hit with his hand and it's wwwooooowwwwwwwwww sooo sexyy!! so cool!!! and he then ofc manages to turn it around and stab the super evil bad guy with his own knife!!!!! everybody cheers even more!!!!! shaky hands and all but he still does it!!!!! and he looked very good while doing it. yum

since i'm already just Mentioning shit i am also going to mention the fact that they made the police chief like a sexy evil man. wheww. yeah. he's like awwwwwful and very very bad but man.. why he kinda hot. this is just about appearance i think we should make more hot bad guys.

scar mention. bad guy had a cool scar.

woman mention. very beautiful lady gets covered in blood while in a beautiful beautiful dress. a+ would watch again

okay i think this is it for now thank you for reading. go watch the film. or don't. a lot of action and blood and it might not be for you but it most definitely was for meeeeee hihihihih love you mwah

[summery-captain]

S1E2 - "Lost and Found"

More AuADHD traits Dirk displays! First episode analysis here

Once I'm finished I'll do a masterpost and link it in my fixed post

I'd like to mention that @goatygoat said Dirk is also alexyrhitimic (has a hard time/can't recognize their feelings and emotions) and I absolutely agree!! It is also exemplified, as they mentioned, by Dirk going "I might it might bother me more later, when I'm less... Something" in S1E1. I also agree with @urlocallesbiab saying dirk is a compulsive liar (he repeatedly lies about his past and then corrects himself)

--

- When Todd and Dirk are hiding behind a bush watching Rimmer's house, Dirk goes on a mini rant: "It's interesting actually because hammerhead sharks aren't usually aggressive towards humans!" - he remembers specific facts and mentions them in casual conversation as if rehearsed, and also might indicate a special interest in sharks or animal related facts

- To get Todd to follow him into the house, he 1) runs into the house while the garage door is going down and 2) proceeds to throw Todd's lotto ticket into it - he acts before thinking, so to speak, a lot of times being very inconsequential

- He mirrors/mimics Todd's actions when they get inside the house - it's very common for autistic people to mirror their peers when in a situation they don't have a lot of control in or have never been in before. In this scene he imitates Todd's stance, then goes on all fours like him, and then copies how Todd looks into the corridor to try and see Rimmer

- When he recognizes Lydia, he starts jumping up and down and "screams" without making noise while pointing at her - of course it's understandable that given the situation anyone would go "!!!!" but I find important to note how Dirk always stims, even in small ways. In this specific case, he stims through the repetitive movement of going up and down and also seems very taken aback/confused when Todd interrupts that to push him into the bathroom as to escape Rimmer noticing them

- After running off from the house, Dirk starts blabbing off, completely nervous - it's very common for ADHDers/Kinetic people to just go on a rant a mile a minute when nervous, be it to stim, to process what is happening, or just a momentary loss of control over speech (going too fast).

- In the bathroom when Todd is trying to reach for the window's handle and then throws himself back into the bathtub to hide from Rimmer, Dirk startles BADLY and goes "Oh it's just you. I don't know why I got scared you were already here" - in this scene (and in many others) Dirk dissociates without realizing, distancing himself from the situation at hand. This is a common defense mechanism autistic people, and also ADHDers, develop to handle our day to day lives. Dissociation is also a symptom of trauma, which unfortunately is bound to happen when you live in a world that does not accommodate you.

- "I gave him my cards" "You gave him your card?!" *"No, I gave him my CARDS. I do a lot of things, and then later I'm like uhh" - this is peak AuADHD honestly (more so adhd), in general we do things without fully thinking it through, ESPECIALLY during stressful situations

- *Later on when Todd and Dirk are driving to the bridge and stop before getting out of the car, the following dialogue happens: "What if he pulls out a gun?" "Aha!! That's why I brought... *Pulls out a switchblade* This!!" "What is that supposed to mean?" "You know what they say, about bringing a knife to a gunfight!" "That it's... Bad?" "Oh bloody hell is that what that means?" - big autism moment- more specifically it's very hard for us to intuitively figure out what figures of speech mean.

- "You're really brave, sort of like crazy brave. Or maybe just stupid, but, wow! And also surprisingly incapable, how have you survived this long?" - I wasn't gonna add this one because it's ableist as hell but alas, it's important to mention because it's not that far off from my lived experience and from what I've gathered, of some other disabled people I'm friends with or know. We're incredibly good at some things and at others, eh. So it makes sense for Dirk to be seen like this when in alignment to neurodivergency.

This will take a bit longer because I just got a new jobs and the change in routine has been hell but it'll be finished eventually!

Tagging the people who asked me to/expressed interest:

@clockworkcheetah @generalized-incompetence @silverhardt @weiwuxiankinnie @amber-angel

[ca1e70]

daverose indie rock house show au chapter........ 1.5?

"so like i didn't write this song or anything, but i mean technically i should be on the credits because i DID come up with one of the drum fills and i totally deserve credit. don't let them tell you any differently" the first few words came out echoey through the shitty speakers stacked around the living room and kitchen. at least until the blond guy with the shades fiddles with with the microphone while still giving his little spiel. he also manages to kick the "pedalboard" by his feet and nearly sends the cracked skateboard housing questionable equipment clear into the kitchen. he doesn't, though, but the mic picks up his worried curses anyway. back to the situation at hand. "our regularly scheduled lead is on vocal rest because of... what was it?" 

hes turning back from the only slightly attentive crowd to look at the bassist. she has rubber bands youd expect to see on a set of extensive braces adorning her fingers while she mines a line and makes a face at him. she doesn't know. shes not even the regularly scheduled bassist. 

"actually fuck it who gives a shit but i'm not changing the lyrics so just bear with me while i butcher some sapphic undertones" and their fill-in for the fill-in drummer is coming in early. 

this is the second time rose lalonde has come across the man currently fumbling his way through a guitar riff like he'd never picked one up before. she would be none the wiser if it wasn't for the fact she knew the stand-in bassist, and she had heard plenty of talk about the stand-in drummer turned lead guitar and singer. this place did a lot of stand-ins. you'd think by now they would have created at least ONE set band, and maybe they did, but rose couldn't care less about the semantics of indie bands and their makeup of artists. she knows she heard one girl on her way to the bathroom talk about a different guitarist sending an unsolicited dick pic, and decided she didn't really want to be involved in the politics of 'local musicians'. 

she was here, once again, at the request of her dear friend blowing everyone away with her ability to jump around the small dining room area and still hit every note. every time it looked like her hair had obscured her vision enough to send her tumbling into the guy not only wearing shades inside, but at night, jade managed to keep her balance up right. it's the only reason she stayed firmly planted on the kitchen counter in the background. it's also the only reason rose came again, because jade promised to "make it up to her by actually showing up and performing". 

no one said anything about dave strider being front and center, though. she had half the mind to turn around and walk out the second she saw him tinkering with a power outlet. jade had already spotted her, though, and the escape plan went out the window. which is why she is once again stuck watching performances from what seems like a messier counter than last time, but i digress. 

dont get her wrong. dave isnt half bad! if he had some training, maybe a better grasp on guitar work in general he would be good. if he had some more practice with the song he is, as he said, butchering. it isnt until he picks up in on the lyrics that she takes a second to really pay attention. 

he isnt anything special. the southern accent he tries desperately to cover up makes its way out on certain words, he manages to keep in pitch and tone well enough she doesnt have to cover her ears, and theres a couple girls in the living room that yell when he starts singing. they scream, is more like it, and one of them is giggling at the other and theres a slight twinge in rose’s stomach that makes her want to run out of this house and never stop running until she makes it to antarctica. 

she wants the girl to leave. she wants the guy in the shades to shut the fuck up and stop singing in front of everyone here. she wants jade to leave her bassist post and come over here right this very second so she can slap rose and tell her shes going insane. instead of any of that happening, rose hops off the counter again and starts to fill up a red solo cup with sink water. the physical act helps her keep her mind off of dave and how she feels her heart rate picking up at the idea that another girl could think he was cute. or that his voice was nice. or want to do something like go on a date with him when rose has already done that, ruined that, and ghosted him. 

well, she didnt ghost him. itd only been a week and she just hadnt replied to his messages because she was busy with school. just because he and jade had school together and talked every day, and jade said that dave asked about her and was worried, and she never replied back, does not mean shes ghosting him. 

if she was ghosting him the nickels wouldnt be still sitting on her bedside table, like a memento of something that happened with a weird boy in a bathroom. 

rose manages to overfill the cup and continue overfilling it until the song is over. when silence hits the room (just before scattered applause) she turns the faucet off and stares at the ripple of the water in her cup. she would never drink something like this, but it had given her something to do, so she dumps it back into the sink and crushes the cup to let loose a little bit of self contained anger. 

she should have waited because theres a rather jazzy little guitar fill – not bass, guitar – and she has to walk around the wall in the kitchen just to make sure she isnt hallucinating. it must be a cover, one he’s worked on before, because the audience goes a little crazy and when he starts singing again they sing along. its one shes never heard, but it isnt as if shes all that up to date on the scene shes currently swathed in. dave had sent her a playlist of music to listen to, ones that would help her out if she ever came back, and she wondered if this one was on it. she wondered if she could have been singing along with him like the girls stationed right in front of his microphone. she wonders if she could have been cheering him on like he deserved. 

no, he didnt deserve it. hes just a boy. hes just a boy with a kind of good voice that can apparently play the guitar well enough and supposedly plays the drums like a god. something rose has only heard rumors of and yet to see, and theres the smallest part of her that hopes she does one day, but she shoves that down quickly in favor of staring into the back of those girls heads like shes going to make them explode.

this is jealousy and she doesnt like it. she didnt even know she was capable of jealousy. she wants to never feel jealous again, and jade is gearing up for a bass solo and sees rose in the actual ‘audience’. her name is yelled into the microphone and rose can feel her face turning red when dave’s face appears between the two witches he has as fans.  the witches turn around as well. the entire house turns around to look at rose right as jade starts playing and rose just… stands there. still as a caught mouse. a truly dead possum. caught in the fact dave smiled when he caught sight of her and went back to messing with the pedalboard. she wants to run away and disappear right then and there.

she does, to be fair, once jade has finished her solo and looks back at rose for approval shes back to trying to find an escape route for the time being. somewhere that she doesnt have to look at a stupid little blond boy or feel emotions she hasnt felt since her mother smiled wider at a wine shipment than the carefully crafted scarf she had made her for christmas one year as a kid. she wanted to break every bottle in that crate just like she wanted to break every bone in those girls bodies, so she takes her rage up the stairs and into a bedroom she can find unlocked. theres shockingly no one in there, but it doesnt take her long to realize why. 

above the bed is an entire shelf of preserved animals. there are cords across the floor like nobodys business, the entire room is a tripping hazard, and the sheets on the bed look rumpled and unchanged and the entire room smells of formalin and teenage boy. 

no one is going to come in here, though, so its safe. its safe enough she shuts the door behind her and carefully crosses the room to open a window for airflow. the fan in the corner doesnt really do the room much help, so this should make it less stuffy. her head is sticking out and her hands are on the ledge of the window and she can still hear dave singing underneath her but its muffled. far away. just like her house, and yet, last friday he walked her all the way there. it had to have been forty minutes. she took a cab here again, no idea how she would get home. she fully hoped jade would give her a ride back so she didnt have to walk or be walked by a man who probably went way out of his way for that. 

she doesn't even know where he lives, after all.

[overwatchcharacterhelp]

WidowMaker - DPS

Abilities + Weapon:

Widow’s Kiss - an assault rifle that becomes a powerful sniper rifle when aiming down sights

Venom Mine (15 sec cooldown) - a projectile poisoning trap that triggers once an enemy walks close by it (can be destroyed if spotted by enemy)

Grappling Hook (12 sec cooldown) - movement ability to help reach higher ground quicker and/or make quick escapes from fights or a dive hero targeting you

Infra Sight (Ultimate) - allows entire team to see the exact whereabouts of every enemy across the entire map (even invisible Sombra’s)

Grappling Tips:

This is Widow’s only movement ability. Like other abilities, it has a limited range and can grapple onto roofs, walls, ledges and even the floor. While a pretty good get away, it can also be used for easy rotation throughout the match. Soon enough, if you keep sniping from the same spot in whatever map over and over again it will become predictable for the other team as they’ll have full knowledge on where you are and what can easily take you out from that spot. Which is why rotating sniping spots as Widow is a key component to progressing your usefulness of her. It doesn’t always have to be on high ground either although it can be harder for some to snipe from lower levels which is completely fine! The grapple can also be used for quick snipes. From a spot within the map that has a clearing or an area you can jump above (press the jump button when you are close to ending the initial grapple) you can get a sneaky and maybe easy pick. While this may be a little less useful with her recent range nerf, it can be good for making an enemy cower and making the fight a 4 v 5. Do keep in mind it takes time to get used to these if you’ve not done it before or have less experience with these actions but you’ll always improve, even if your having a bad game day :)

Venom Mine Tips:

There are not as many things I can comment on with the venom mine but it can be a great warning sign. If you are comfortably and confidently situated (let’s say in Havana in the balcony facing the payload), be wary of the only 2 ways into it. The stairs behind and the other windows. If you are unsure of where to place the venom mine in the balcony, place it somewhere by the stairwell or doorway leading into the balcony. The stairs are prime flanking spots for many heroes if they wish to be sneaky (Sombra, Genji, almost any other hero really), so it’s good to set a trap. Even though it can be destroyed, and it most likely will be, a set sound plays as it’s broken along with a piece of text in the direction of the mine saying “DESTROYED”, it also does this with when it’s triggered but instead using a gas releasing effect and showing the words “TRIGGERED”. Either way, it can give time to react however you please, whether that’s fight with the assault mode of the rifle or quickly grapple away and attempt to snipe them. But if it is a tank, it is best to regroup with your team to have help dealing with the tank if they chose to give chase as killing a tank with Widow, while isn’t impossible, is very difficult without a Mercy by your side (from my experience)

Infra Sight Tips:

There isn’t much to infra sight, other than this ult can be a game changer by giving your team the upper hand. It’s takes only 0.5 seconds to activate but it only lasts for 15.5 seconds. I recommend if your acting as defence and you’re aware the enemy team is regrouping near the end of the game/match or while your teammate(s) have a powerful ult at 100%, get a good high ground point or do a grapple jump, see where they are and activate the ult if they’re grouped in both situations. If you use mic, it’s best to communicate this with your team, but if you don’t that’s okay too, in my experience it’s best to hope and pray they’ll understand, haha. But if you are on the offence, once again utilise the infra and ult combo or use it to find a good flanking spot as a team.

[rendevousz]

little hacker

avengers x fem!teen!reader

characters: brief clint barton, tony stark, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, peter parker

summary: you hacked into tony's systems and he, along with the team, track you down.

warnings: mentions of death and a car crash, hacking written by someone who has no idea how it works

word count: 3241

note: hi um this is my first oneshot on tumblr i hope you like it!!

you were 14 when you first met the avengers. your family had gotten into a tragic car accident and you were the only one who made it out alive, leaving you in excessive guilt and burden; guilt because you were the only one granted a second chance at life and burden because you had to live your life, barely scraping by as you were dropped the responsibility of taking care of your sick grandmother.

at 11, where all that the kids your age had to worry about was whether their pocket money was enough to get themselves an after-school snack, you worried whether or not the money left to your name was enough to survive.

at 11, where girls worried about their changing bodies and asked their mothers about it, you had to figure it all out yourself and with the help of your trusty laptop, the only gadget you had, one that your dad had gifted to you after you had gotten 100s for all your tests at age 8. he thought you were his little prodigy and figured a laptop would treat you well. you took care of it well because while you didn't want to spend the last of your money left, —that was specifically set aside for your grandmother's hospital bills— you wanted to hold on to the laptop for as long as you could, as a reminder of your loving father, as well as the memories the item held, after you've watched movies with pretty much all of your passed family members on that laptop at different points in your life. that was why whenever the thing lagged due to how much you've been using it, you almost always figure out how to fix it until it was good as new.

at 12, while your classmates had their parents to protect them when they were out at night, you feared for your life whenever you were out past dark. which led you to learning self defence from youtube videos. you learned them pretty quickly and with your sharp-wittedness, you no longer feared to be out at night. you even had the honours of trying out your skills when some men thought they could get you just because you were smaller than them.

at 12, where kids your age were having fun, enjoying their childhood, you had no choice but to be mature and think for the good of yourself and your sick grandmother. you were forced to grow up and you were probably more mature and intelligent than the rest of your classmates combined.

and at 13, you realised that money wasn't going to grow on trees and the money you were left with wasn't going to last forever. it had to last until you were old enough to work. but with your grandmother's condition getting worse and worse, you were forced to drop out of school. you were upset because you loved it. you loved knowledge. but family came first and the only thing that your knowledge increased on was on computers.

which led to you being able to hack into tony stark's bank account at only 14. you had no other choice than to steal money and who better to steal it from than a guy whose pocket change could probably last you another five years or so? you knew who tony stark was, the whole world knows who he is. and you thought that maybe he would be too preoccupied with his alter ego saving the whole world, along with his group of earth's mightiest heroes that he wouldn't notice the tiny bit of money you'd stolen from him.

of course the billionaire had been alerted immediately by his AI when you'd accessed into his systems. "security breach?" he exclaimed, immediately dropping the tool he was tinkering his suit with in his lab.

he spent about 3 minutes, that was how long you took touring around in his systems, observing what you did in it. he watched as you did nothing about the highly confidential information he had and instead, stole....5 grand from his bank account? that was barely a scratch to his account. what was going on?

he had requested FRIDAY to track down the hacker, mainly because he was perplexed that someone had hacked into his well protected system just to steal a tiny bit of money but it seems that even FRIDAY couldn't track down where it came from.

he told the team and it was then that everyone worried how dangerous the hacker could possibly be.

"who steals just 5 grand after hacking into a billionaire's bank account?" clint frowned after tony had explained the whole situation. "i mean, if i managed to hack into your systems, i'd do way more than just steal a couple bucks."

"exactly. and who knows? they might just be waiting for the right moment to install dangerous malware into the system and until we find the culprit, they're roaming somewhere out there with all our confidential information right at the tip of their fingers. if they decide to use it against us..." tony trailed off, for once having a worried expression on his otherwise nonchalant face. he's never been this clueless about what to do with any sort of technical issues concerning the avengers or himself.

you on the other hand, after getting complacent that you weren't caught, kept doing so for the next couple months or so. you had no ill intentions, just trying to scrape by. the whole situation puzzled tony. he didn't care how much you've taken from him in total now, you were right; it was merely pocket change to him. but you were still considered a threat since you had free access to his systems and he didn't even know who you were or where you were.

that was until you made a tiny mistake, one that if tony wasn't spending every waking moment trying to track you down he wouldn't have noticed. and though it was a small mistake, it certainly was going to change how things ran from then on.

that afternoon, after having just gotten back from visiting your grandmother at the hospital, you were planning to get more money from the billionaire's bank account at the comfort of your own home. god, hospital bills were expensive. once you had had a little snack, you settled down on the couch and opened your laptop. but being the quick-witted person you were, before the screen in front of you lit up, you saw movement from behind you.

your heart raced. you could handle fighting people but those usually happened in alleys at nighttime. this was in your home, your safe place. you made sure to lock the doors and there weren't fire escapes outside your windows so how did the intruder get in?

you could tell they were trying to be inconspicuous to get to you and so you let them. you let the person think that they were going to get you without a fight but when they were right behind you, you swiftly turned your body around and jumped over the couch. the masked intruder let out a surprised yelp and the two of you fought for a bit. before you knew it, you had them pinned under you in just ten seconds.

"wha– how– what?" it sounded like a boy. you looked down at him and noticed his red and blue spandex suit. you frowned. wasn't this the friendly neighbourhood spiderman guy or something? why was a superhero breaking into your home?

he was coughing from your knee pressing down onto his chest and you lifted it slightly, enough for him to breathe but not enough to escape. he seemed grateful though because he muttered a seemingly embarrassed 'thanks'.

"get off the kid or i'll blast you off of him myself."

you look up and saw the iron man repulsor aimed right at you, and obviously iron man himself was standing right there in the middle of your small apartment. behind him stood a redhead, who you knew as the black widow, aiming a pistol at you, and a man with a shield, captain america. the spiderboy must've come in through the window and unlocked the door for them.

when you made eye contact with steve, he frowned in confusion. you looked way too young to be the culprit they had expected. he muttered a quiet 'wait, what?' before tony stark revealed himself, his iron man faceplate opening.

"um...kid? where are your parents? or guardian? we need to see them because there's been some highly illegal activity coming from this address." the man in the suit spoke. you stayed still, knee still pressing against the boy under you, frowning at the adults in the room. they noticed your apprehensiveness and slowly lowered their weapons. "we're not here to hurt you, you can release the boy now," steve told you gently.

you usually weren't one to trust easily but since these people were known superheroes, you reluctantly stood up, still anxious of the possibilities of what they could do to you. the spiderboy got up too and dusted his back, before going to stand next to steve. you were confused as to why these heroes were breaking in your home until you remembered what you had been up to for the past weeks. how could you forget when that was the only reason you were still surviving?

your eyes widened with fear when they met tony's soft ones. he looked at you with such care and worry that you were reminded of your late dad. the man in front of you wasn't the arrogant man you've watched on youtube. you felt bad for stealing from him now. you used to think that he deserved it, despite how little you took compared to how much he had. the man knelt down before you so he didn't appear so big in front of you, seeing your frightened expression. little did he know you were frightened for a totally different reason.

"anyone else living here, kid? because i tracked down this address and someone has been stealing money from me. i might need to have a little talk with them." he explained, looking around the house. you fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously, scared of what would come once you came clean about your actions. you were scared you were going to be taken in for juvenile crime but you were also scared of the consequences of lying straight to their faces. so you took a deep breath before deciding to just tell the truth.

"t–that would be me, sir." you admitted in a small voice, avoiding eye contact with the billionaire you had been stealing from. a few shocked looks from the team and an incredulous 'what?' from tony had you biting the inside of your cheeks in fear.

"i'm truly sorry about that, sir. i..." you trailed off, debating whether or not to justify your actions because you thought that he might not even want to listen to it. "i had to pay off my grandmother's hospital bills because she is very sick. my family died a few years ago in a car crash and i was the only one who made it. i was left some money to my name but having to survive on that along with paying off nana's bills, it was bound to run out. i...i thought that since you were a billionaire, stealing a few thousands wouldn't matter to you...i'm so sorry, sir. i– i'll start working to pay you back.." you stuttered out, holding your hands together so it would minimise the shaking.

tony's mouth opened and closed, like fish out of water, not knowing what to say to you. he stood up and you were on the verge of breaking down right then and there, feeling as small as you did before he knelt before you. "p–please don't report me, sir. i– i don't know what would happen to my nana if you do.. i swear to you that i didn't mess with your other files. i only accessed the system for your bank account and that was it. i have no ill intentions, please don't report me.." you were now the one kneeling down in front of him, begging.

the team were flabbergasted at the scene unfolding before them and tony was quick to get you off your knees, which scared you even more because the death grip of his metal hands on your forearms had your mind running wild at the millions of possibilities of what he would do to you. was he going to kill you and leave you somewhere that people were never going to find your body? or was he going to dispose of you and use his power to remove you permanently from the system so no one came looking for you? he had the power to ruin your life and you feared that.

snapping you out of your mental breakdown, he spoke softly. "hey, it's okay." and that was when you realised the 'death grip' he had on your forearms had only been your paranoia getting the best of you. he was barely even touching you. your teary eyes looked up at his soft, brown ones in fear.

then he smiled at you.

"it's okay. i understand the reason why you did what you did. you're a good kid, your nana is so lucky to have you. what's your name?" he knelt down before you once again, knowing that him standing tall in his iron man suit terrified you. "y/n." you responded timidly.

"how old are you, y/n?" this time, it was steve who asked. you had forgotten that there were other people in the room, too consumed by your fear for your life a few moments ago. "i'm fourteen, mr america, sir." you whispered out, the sight of captain america in person intimidating you until you saw a kind smile on his face.

"you're pretty young to be doing what you've been doing, y/n. are you aware that you're the first person to be able to hack into my heavily protected, supposedly impenetrable network? many have tried to do so and failed, and they were really smart people too. have you been doing this for a while?" tony asked.

"um...my father gifted me this laptop when i was 8 because i did exceptionally well in school. he believed i was a child prodigy and let me have a laptop since he knew my studies wouldn't be affected by the distraction of entertainment. i used to only hack into games to cheat my way up the ranks but only recently i tried something else since i had nothing better to do and i've been out of school for a while now. i knew you were a billionaire so i tried just for the heck of it and surprised myself when i got in on the first try. and then i saw your bank account details and i really needed money so i stole some... again, i'm so sorry about that." you apologised, looking down at your feet.

he couldn't believe it. you were just messing around and you managed to get into his system? you, a mere fourteen year old who was out of school, managed to single handedly do what geniuses around the world had failed to do?

he was initially just going to have a talk with the hacker, and in case they were dangerous and had backup, he brought his own. but bringing steve, natasha and peter proved to be unnecessary when the culprit turned out to be you.

"where did you learn those moves?" natasha stepped closer towards you. you looked up at the redhead, noticing the glare she had on you when she aimed her pistols at you was replaced with curiosity.

you fiddled with the hem of your shirt even more, embarrassed to tell her that you learned to fight from a couple of youtube videos when she had gotten years of actual training. you were pathetic compared to her. "i, um, i learned them from some youtube videos."

her eyebrows raised in surprise at the revelation. you hadn't gotten professional training yet you moved like you had. peter had superhuman strength, agility and endurance yet you took him down in under ten seconds. sure it may have been a disadvantage to peter because he was caught off guard but he should've been able to take you down still.

now was tony going to let the chance of a lifetime slip by? no, of course he was immediately thinking of recruiting you. your dad had been right about you being a prodigy. you adapted to new skills quickly and you were perfect for recruitment.

"hey kid, wanna be an avenger?"

your eyes widened and your jaw dropped in shock. steve immediately turned to him, an incredulous look on his face as he glared dangerously at the billionaire. "stark, you wanna think about this for a minute?"

"thank about what, cap? you saw what she did to the spiderling. and she successfully hacked into my system on her first try and we took weeks to trace her. romanoff back me up here," he saw how impressed natasha was by you and he knew the redhead wasn't going to disagree. "stark's right, steve. she's only fourteen and she's capable of so much already. we need someone like her."

"exactly! she's only fourteen! this life is dangerous for her!" steve argued. peter then tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "hey, mr rogers, i'm a sixteen-year-old avenger and she took me down easily. not gonna lie, it hurt my pride, also my back when you flipped me over your shoulder," he turned to you but you didn't say anything because you couldn't see his facial expression. "but i think she's going to be okay, sir."

steve sighed before turning to you, the defeated expression on his face softening when you looked up at him with your doe eyes and a small smile. you didn't answer to tony just yet since it seemed that steve had a say in it as well but you were dying to say yes. not only were you not going to be reported for your crimes but to be recruited by iron man himself to be an avenger? who could say no to that? not you, at least, since you had nothing better to do with your life at the moment.

"well, what do you say, kid?"

your smile grew and you nodded happily. the team couldn't help but crack a smile at how happy you looked for the first time since they've encountered you.

"well, you should go pack your important stuff so we can go back to the tower. you're going to be moving in if you're an official member of the avengers." tony told you and you nodded, walking towards your room to start packing while the team sat on the couch to wait for you.

"wait, what's going to happen to my nana?" you turned back towards them, worry etched onto you face. "don't worry about it, kid. you can give me the details later and i'll settle it. she'll be in good hands." he assured. "okay." you mumbled in response.

you were actually going to be an avenger. "awesome.." you grinned to yourself as you packed.

[riddlemethisfuckyou]

library

Edward works part time at a library where he meets the reader for the first time, when they forget there pen and have to ask for one. reader has social anxiety and Edward is creepy. idk I'm bad at summaries.

also posted on ao3!! https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/96855603?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_535874973

His job at the library was quite boring, the only upside really was being able to do discreet, untraceable research on things like guns, bombs, and the corrupt leaders of gotham, y’know, the usual fun stuff. Edward didn't really know why he stayed working at the library, it wasn't like it paid very well, it was mostly work he did on his days off his day job to help save up for his big plans. He didn't know why he stayed, until he saw you. He first noticed you around the springtime, when it rained even more than usual. You ran into the library, your hair slightly damp and your bag clutched close to your side. In all honesty you escaped his notice at first, you moved so quickly towards a table in the back that it just seemed like a blur passed by.

In the back of the library you settled at a table that was cozy up against the window, the gloomy lighting of the rainy gotham evening perfectly lit your notebook, you relaxed, taking out your laptop from your bag and opening it, beginning to start on your work before you slowly realized you'd forgotten to bring a pen. You sighed and began weighing your options. “Well I could just… go home.” you thought to yourself, thinking maybe you could save yourself the anxiety of having to walk up to the front desk and ask the random worker for a pen. But nevertheless, after an embarrassingly long time of debating in your head, you decided that you really needed to get this work done, and you'd have to buck it up and start acting like a grown up. You took a deep breath, easing your nerves, and stood up walking across the grand gothic library towards the desk that stood in the middle of the room. You held your arms close to your body, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you weaved in between shelves and people. When you finally arrived at the front, behind the desk was a man that looked to be about your age, maybe a couple years older or younger give or take, with sandy blonde hair and thick glasses that fell slightly down his nose as he hunched over a notebook, scribbling notes. You tried to take a closer look at what he was writing that had him so enthralled, but after a second you scolded yourself internally for being nosy. “Uhm…” you finally cleared your throat gently to get his attention. He jumped slightly, and quickly closed his notebook, trying not to seem too suspicious (and failing miserably). He pushed his glasses slightly up his nose before turning towards you.

When he turned to face you, Edward immediately felt his face heat up. He hoped his blush wasn't as noticeable as it felt. He opened his mouth to speak, trying to ask how he could help you, like he was supposed to do, but no words left. Instead he sat there in silence, face beet red, with his mouth gaping trying desperately to speak. He’d never been the best with customers, especially not ones as attractive as you. That's why he chose to work at the library, most things were automated, like touch screens now, where you could type in a title and see where it was placed in the building. That and most of the people who came in and out throughout the day were senior citizens, he'd always gotten along strangely well with seniors. He attributed it in his head to being raised by the old decrepit nuns in the orphanage, it taught him how not to anger the elder generation. Oftentimes they just need to be treated as if they are the only one who is right in the situation. Before he could get too lost in his own thoughts though, you saved yourself from the awkward silence that was filling the space between you two now. “Uhm… i-im sorry but could I borrow a pen please?” your voice was quiet and timid and it made Edward's heart beat faster than he'd ever felt it beat before. “Uh y-yeah! Sure, of course” he stumbled out before motioning to the cup of pens, then going to grab one out of the cup for you. It seems as though you had the same idea, and you reached to grab a pen as well, your hands slightly brushing as you grabbed a pen quickly, retreating your hand back swiftly. He pulled his hand back faster than you'd ever seen anyone move, his face blushed so furiously he thought his face might catch on fire. “S-sorry-” he stuttered out quietly, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Oh uh it's ok, thank you…” you spotted his name tag “edward…” you said softly before turning away and rushing back to your desk in the corner. When you said his name his heart skipped a beat. His head immediately popped up, but you were gone before he could look at you again. He turned his head wildly searching for you again hoping to see your beautiful face again, but you were hidden behind the many shelves. He slumped back down into his chair and opened his notebook back up and began scribbling various riddles, but he couldn't concentrate. He just kept thinking of you, and how you were somewhere here in this building. He couldn't comprehend how someone like you was so timid, he didn't even feel worthy to be in the same vicinity as you. It sounded corny, like in those studid hallmark movies, but when your hands touched he felt like a jolt of electricity ran through his system. It felt like love at first sight, like a stupid cliche. oh, and when you said his name… the way it rolled so effortlessly off your tongue. He imagined the various different tones and emotions you could say it with. He could get used to hearing that. He needed to know more about you, he thought to himself. He sat thinking for a few moments, then ultimately decided it would be best to follow you home. Not in a creepy way of course! No, it was because Gotham was so dangerous, and the thought of strange men leering at you on the streets made his skin crawl. And if he got to sit outside your window and watch you for a few hours, well that was just his reward for making sure you got home safe.

[vaseshippingformywholelive]

When the rain falls..

Warnings:

angst, sad, dark themes, suicide mentioning, death mentioning, tiny bit smut/nsfw (just 2-lines), depression?, panic attack?, soulmate au, mana is reborn, timeline-parallels, vaseshipping, this is all MY AU & it's far from canon!

(I woke up & choose angst! I cried while writing this! Please enjoy~ ♡ )

(Also: Please DON'T repost/use/ reupload this without asking me first!! It's mine, not yours!! )

~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~

[[ Modern- Au]]

~💜~🖤~💜~🖤~

"I feel like I'm missing something...",

the girl whispered to herself, sitting on the window from her house. The former magican looked outside, closing her eyes as the raindrops fell from the grey sky. She was listening closely to the sounds of the falling water hitting the ground.

A sigh left mana. Somehow she felt nostalgic, almost sad. The moment the girl opened her eyes, a single tear ran down her cheek. But mana didn't really understand her feelings towards the rain. Just that the same feeling happening over & over again. The former magican couldn't remember when it started or why it started. 'Maybe some trauma??', she thought.

Her thoughts were cut off by the ringing of her door. Mana jumped up, running towards the door,

"I'M COMING~!",

the girl yelled while running down the stairs, opening the door. A big smile formed on her face as she saw 'HIM' standing infront of her. Holding an umbrella over his head and a bag with snack & drinks in the other. The guitar-bag hanging over his shoulder, with the black leader jacket he was wearing, it suited him so well. He looked like the perfect boyfriend-material--

Quickly shaking her head the girl stepped a bit to the side,

"Hello atem~ Come in!! I hope you didn't get to wet because of sudden rain?",

the former magican smiled at the boy infront of her. Gently taking his umbrella from him, closing the door once he was inside. Mana couldn't explain this feeling but the sadness was gone now, everytime atem was around she felt pure happiness, saftey and just so complete.

"Mana?.. Did you cry?",

atem's worried voice made her look up. She didn't even notice the tear that had escaped her eye earlier. Just as atem's hand gently touched her cheek and wiped it away, the girl noticed what he meant. A blush covered her face as she looked up at the boy. His eyes were full of worry, but also something else. 'Was that.. guilt? But why?.. It's not like he did something bad?' , the former magican thought confused.

Mana smiled at atem and took his hand in her's as she answered,

"Don't worry, it's nothing serious! I just have some weird connection with the rain since I can think. I always cry when it rains, somehow I feel sad. I also always forget my umbrella when I go out! But no one knows why, not even the doctor could help the situation. So don't worry okay? It's normal!",

mana softly pressed against his hand and intertwined their fingers,

"I would rather hear the new song you told me about. Is that okay?~",

a giggle left her mouth as she walked him towards her livingroom, ignoring the thunder & lighting outside. The rain seemed to get worse but all mana could hear was atem's beautiful voice.

[[ Ancient AU ]]

[[ Timeline without Atem ]]

~💜~🖤~💜~🖤~

The sky was dark. The air was cold. The rain was strong and didn't seem to stop anytime soon. If someone wouldn't know any better they would think this was a ghost-town. Yet a girl walked through the empty streets, calmly as if the rain doesn't even exist to her. The cold, dark weather didn't seem to bother her either. She seemed far away, lost. But yet the people of the town admired her, called her a "fairy" or a "blessing of the gods".

To herself mana was no such thing. Mana hated herself more than anyone ever could. She couldn't even protect those close to her. Now everyone she once loved was gone. How many months ago was it? Or had it already been years??

Looking down in a puddle, the magican saw herself in it. Ahh, true she was all grown-up now. She looked way older than she remembered. So it must've been years already, right?? Mana sighed, jumping in the puddle as she bit her lip, 'Who even cares?? Time is useless anyway!!' , the girl yelled on the inside.

Continueing the walk through the rain the girl lost any sense of thought, any sort of meaning. Just walking, walking, walking on. A loud thunder made mana look up. Looking around, her mouth opened but no sound came out. She was in shock. Silence. Just the rain and the thunder was heard. Infront of the magican were a bunch of old ruins. Some of them visible, some of them hidden by the sand. 'Time is really moving on fast huh?' , the magican let out a deep breath.

Some of the ruins looked odly familiar to mana. She wondered why. Was she here before?? Looking around herself. Sand, sand, more sand, sa- no wait!! These things hidden in the sand.. Here was once a town??? But now nothing of it was left.. But why does this all seem odly familiar to the girl??

"Maybe I'm really going crazy huh??",

mana grumbled, shaking her head while walking through the ruins. She came to an sudden stop, 'Wow!! How was that possible??'. Before her was a garden. In between the bunch of old ruins was a beautiful, still fresh garden! It looked like it was well taken care of. 'But how?? Did someone use magic??' , this caught mana's interest! Which was a very hard thing to do now-days!

Continueing to look around in the garden, the girl didn't find anything. But mana made herself a note to come back here on a day when the weather was better. This needs more research! It could be dangerous or of great use!! While moving on, walking towards the next ruin, it all of sudden got dark behind her. Quickly mana turned around, ready to fight. 'What??' , the garden had turned dark, it looked dirty, completly the opposite from before. The magican didn't believe her eyes.

"So IT is me just losing my mind.. well good to know",

the magican grabbed her head, while walking outside in the rain again. The weather was still the same. Yet mana still didn't understand the feeling of knowing this all. Even if she did find out, would it even matter?? It wouldn't change anything! It wouldn't bring 'HIM' back! It couldn't bring the person back she loved most!

Lost in thoughts mana stumbled over something on the floor, she fell face first in the wet, dirty sand.

"Eww..", the magican grumbled, slowly sitting up, rubbing the dirt off her face, the girl looked back to see what she had fallen over. 'This stupid thing..' ,

In a heartbeat she could feel her heart tighten up. Her breath got stuck, knot building in her throat. Eyes widened with every passing second. Her hands started to shake, one slowly reaching out. She could feel her stomatch hurting as the memorys rained down on her,

" What brings you here today mana?~"

" Did you sneak in through my balcony again?~"

"How is your magic trainging going?~"

" Thank you for your support mana! It means much to me~"

" Are you hiding here from mahad again?~"

" You did amazing mana! I'm so proud of you!"

" You're as beautiful as the stars! Mana.. you truly mean much to me~"

" My cape is way to big for you.. but I guess you look adorable?"

" Well done mana! Soon you could even beat me haha~"

" It may seem childish to you! But mana is the one & only that I adore and love! I want her by my side for now and forever!~"

" Are you nervous? I thought you loved me?~"

"You don't know what you do to me, kitten~"

"Please, be mine?~"

"Mana, will you give yourself to me? For now & forever? May our souls & our hearts always find each other!"

" You look so beautiful in the morning sun mana~"

"I will never leave you mana! Take this necklace as a promise!"

" Even if there are moments we can not be together, you'll shine like gold in my memorys!~"

"Mana.. I do really love you~"

" Wait for me! I'll be back!! My beloved mana!~"

Tears ran down mana's face, looking at the hidden throne under the sand. The throne that had belonged to 'HIM'. A loud cry escaped mana. Now she remembered why this place seemed so familiar. 30 years ago this place was once her home. Her childhood. But now.. everything was gone, destroyed, washed away by the rain.

The girl picked herself up, her legs shaking, her sight blurry by the still overflowing tears. She started to run, running away from the memorys, from the painful past. Now the magican remembered why she moved away, why she tried to forget it all. How often had she nightmares?? How often did she break down?? How often did she try to end her live by herself? End it all!! But mana couldn't...

'What if 'HE' came back? What if 'HE' is still alive?' , small pieces of hope sometimes crossed her mind.

So the magican continued to walk through the rain, continued to help the people of the town, continued to use magic. But yet, the sadness, the emptiness never disappeared. The smile never appeared on her face ever again.

Mana didn't even notice that as soon as she came back to the magical-garden it started to bloom again. Thanks to her the garden was fresh again. Thanks to her the past was still alive. Neither did the ancient-mana know that both, her & atem hadn't giving up yet and would meet once again, in the future!

~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~

(I hope you enjoyed~ ♡ )

[lightblueterracota]

Tenderness, Undescribed

hermitcraft grian x mumbo jumbo. i don’t have a fully established and intricate universe for this storyline, but basically it’s their hermitcraft characters and grian also has wings :^)

another note is this is in no way shipping the irl people, this is absolutely only for their fictional characters! please don’t ship real people and/or harass the actual people behind these characters :)

/

There’s a certain tenderness to Mumbo that Grian finds fascinating.

For his long legs, clumsy mobility, and dark eyes above a bold mustache, Mumbo is not often associated with the word tender. More often than not, other Hermits know him for being the friendly neighborhood Redstoner that often finds himself in disasterous, life-threatening situations, often needing to call for other Hermits to dive in and save him last second. His general obtuse nature and lack of direction make him seem like a friendly yet out of control aircraft helicoper with styrofoam blades. 

But there’s no denying that Mumbo is a genius as well. Almost on par with Doc, Grian would say that Mumbo is one of the brightest people he knows, despite his daftness. Even if he gets his Redstone wiring mixed up terribly sometimes, there’s a brilliance beneath that mustache that shines through everytime Mumbo eagerly invites Grian to his base to show him another massive and impressive machine. 

And when he talks about his Redstone -- he’s all over the place. Big gestures and waving arms, loud exclamations of excitement as he eaglerly jumps around and points out each piece of Redstone and its wiring, it’s hard for Grian to keep up sometimes. But there’s something oddly fond whenever Mumbo gets insanely proud of a build, and even if Grian doesn’t understand it 100%, he listens attentively anyway as Mumbo explains it to him.

It’s hilarious, sometimes. Mumbo’s fingers are big and clumsy sometimes, and he struggles with piecing together intricate Redstone wiring that require small pieces. When he’s impatient, sometimes he has to ask Grian’s sharp eagle-eyes to help him piece together a particularly tricky part of a machine, and Grian is more than happy to help.

All in all, while Grian is very fond of Mumbo, he’s not someone Grian would consider gentle and tender.

There was a moment though, when that changed.

It happened on one of Grian’s worst nights. Upon visiting a nearby village, he hadn’t realized that he had accidentally triggered a raid, and at that time he had no combat gear on him. As the mobs swarmed from the hillsides and Grian desperately tried to protect the villagers and herd them indoors, arrows and slashes of melee weapons cut across Grian’s body. Even when he decided to draw back, trying to make his escape by flying away, several arrows were shot into his wings, and he almost didn’t make it.

He was on low health and bleeding when he crash-landed into Mumbo’s base -- the only other person that was also active at that time of night. He had scared the crap out of the man, Mumbo jumping out of his focus on his Redstone as the winged individual crashed through his window, heavily injured and weak.

He was too faint to respond to Mumbo’s frightened, “Jesus, Grian, what happened?!” as he collapsed onto the floor, wings spread across the floorboards of Mumbo’s base. He blearily watched as the man jumped up, immediately rummaging through some storage for healing supplies.

“Your wings,” Mumbo had said, and there was some saddening awe in his voice. “Oh Grian, your wings. They must hurt so bad. Hold on a second.”

Grian didn’t want to think about it. He could feel blood dripping from his wings and could see a few scattered feathers that had fallen off in his crash-landing. His beautiful wings, ruined.

“Can you stand?” Mumbo asked, and Grian was about to protest, when Mumbo continued, saying, “Wait no, you probably can’t. Hold still. I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Grian cringed, expecting to be hauled like a sack of potatoes and bracing for impact, but was shocked when he felt Mumbo’s gentle hold as the taller hoisted the winged man up, moving him to a nearby bed. Mumbo seemed to be very careful of not brushing his damaged and bleeding wings, gently shouldering Grian so that his limbs were comfortable and his wings had room. 

The closeness of Mumbo’s body caught Grian off guard and he silently let Mumbo gently place him down onto the bed. Then Mumbo got to work, grabbing some healing supplies and bandages.

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo warned in advance as he disinfected his own hands, “but there’s a couple of arrowheads still in your wings. I need to take them out before I bandage you. This is going to hurt.”

Before Grian could react, a sharp, excruitating pain blossomed from his left wing as Mumbo carefully removed the sharp object, the scalding pain shooting up his spine. A pained yelp came escaped from Grian, only to be sizzled away by Mumbo’s gentle shushing as he immediately started applying pressure to the wound.

“Shh,” Mumbo said softly, disposing of the arrowhead and cleaning the area. “Shh, I know it hurts a lot. It’s okay. You’re alright, I got you.”

It wasn’t often Grian heard Mumbo speak in such a soft manner. Oddly enough, his words were comforting, settling over Grian’s tired bones like a blanket, and Grian forced himself to relax as Mumbo continued to softly speak some encouragements.

Whimpers of pain continued to come from Grian as Mumbo continued to clean him up, his normally clumsy and large hands now extremely gentle and intricate as he delicately plucked the damage out of Grian’s wings and applied healing salves to his wounds. As Mumbo gently worked through patching up Grian’s wings, he made sure to inspect the rest of Grian’s body carefully, checking for other signs of bleeding and wounds.

Once he was doing bandaging him, Mumbo told him, “Lean back, please.”

Grian obeyed, settling back carefully into the bed and watched as picked up a bottle of healing potion. Grian groaned in protest, not in any mood to digest anything, but Mumbo simply leaned forward to place two fingers underneath Grian’s chin and lifted, making Grian’s mouth aim upwards.

“I know you probably don’t want to drink anything right now, but this will make you feel much better, I promise,” Mumbo said gently as he held Grian’s face up firmly and lifted the cool glass edge of the bottle to his lips. “Please drink.”

A feeling of tenderness, undescribed, washed over Grian as he became acutely aware of Mumbo’s fingers underneath his chin, and the way his thumb barely brushed against his bottom lip.

Too weak to fight against the gentle push of Mumbo’s hands, Grian let Mumbo slowly feed the potion into his mouth, obediently swallowing the restorative liquid. Mumbo let out a pleased hum as he watched Grian consume the potion.

Once Mumbo made sure Grian drank every last drop, he softly released Grian’s chin, letting his face fell back softly.

There was a belated, blurry moment where Grian realized he enjoyed Mumbo’s warm touch on his face.

Falling back into the bed pillows, exhausted, Grian felt his eyes go heavy. It seemed that the healing potion Mumbo fed him had a drowsy side-effect, likely to encourage overnight healing. As sleepiness slowly ebbed over his brain, Grian watched as Mumbo cleaned up, the warm light from the nearby lantern seeming to frame Mumbo in an entirely new perspective.

Who knew Mumbo would have such good bedside manners as a doctor, Grian thought lazily.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Mumbo said. “I wouldn’t want you flying around in the dark now anyway. Your wings will be okay, they just need some time to heal a bit.”

Oh. Yeah. 

“My wings,” Grian whined softly. “They look so damaged...”

“No,” Mumbo cut in gently. “Your wings will be back to beautiful once you rest up for a bit. I promise. You’ll be back to flying in no time, don’t worry.”

“They’re so ugly now,” Grian lamented miserably.

“They don’t,” Mumbo insisted. “You look beautiful right now, Grian, I promise. Now go to sleep.”

Grian knew damn well he was in no good-looking shape. He could still feel the dirt on his face and the way his hair was still curled and messy from crashing. But he was too tired to open his mouth and argue against Mumbo, so Grian let his eyes shut, the last thought drfiting in his mind being:

He thinks I’m beautiful.

/

After that, Grian could only ever see the tender side to Mumbo.

After nursing him back to health, Grian had thanked him countless times, with Mumbo simply giving him a kind smile and insisting it was no problem. From then on, Grian could only ever see that gentleness in Mumbo, and remember the way he tended to his wounds and cleaned his wings and held his face that night. The kindness and way he had jumped up immediately to take care of Grian. The gentleness and how he soothed his pain.

So maybe to other Hermits, they know Mumbo as a clumsy, bumbling human being.

But to Grian, he knows him as someone tender, undescribed.

/