#Does she know that the TER movement as a whole

[canichangemyblogname]

⚠️ IMAGE TW: Suicidal Ideation

These posts are by the same TERF, who is subjecting herself to personal conversion “therapy.” I have blocked out the username because this individual is clearly not well. And, yes, “not well” here clearly refers to the individual’s suicidal ideation. (Yes, I reported this threat of self-harm to Tumblr.)

In the gender-critical case against trans inclusion, structural subordination on the basis of sex dominates the discussion to the virtual exclusion of anything else. That's not to say there's no such thing as a male dominant society. I would never claim that just the same I would NEVER claim there's no such thing as a white supremacist society.

This is more a commentary on two things: the presupposition of social hierarchies in the ideological investments in structural oppression and structuralist frameworks that gender-crits care deeply about as well as the lack of engagement with intersectional frameworks.

Ideological investments in the structural oppression gender-crits care deeply about has led them to presuppose the validity of the frameworks they're using to interpret this structural oppression rather than take their validity as a hypothesis. This presupposition can lead one to miss noticing other things that are going on, especially things that just can’t, and probably should not, be forced into the explanatory frameworks gender-crits use to interpret structural oppression.

—The Feminist Philosopher, here on Tumblr

The above 👆 observation is often brought forth in critiques of how Exclusionarism fails to consider the intersection of womanhood and race, often to the detriment of Black women in feminist movements. It’s an intersectional critique of what is ultimately, at its core, nothing more than a reactionary anti-intersectional movement. But this critique of Exclusionarism is broadly applicable to other intersections that it also fails to consider, as “intersections produce more complex, shifting, and context-dependent power relationships than are captured by [a simple, binary] M > F formula.”

Exclusionarism considers only sexism to the detriment of analyzing heterosexism and cissexism, and that is on full display in the featured photos. Gender *is* socially constructed (“a product of culture”), that is very true. The bounds of proper gender, however, aren’t only defined by sexism, but also things like racism, heterosexism, and cissexism. So, a TER’s analysis always fails to consider how it’s not just misogyny, but also homophobia and transphobia that socially construct our sex caste system. One’s assigned sex caste is not informed simply by whether or not a child has a dick, but by how well the attending doctor thinks the child will perform a certain role in heterosexual sex and heterosexual reproduction (this is the excuse often made for performing genital surgeries on intersex infants).

“Sex is [] a very unstable category that people can disrupt in many ways even without an explicit trans identity, because patriarchy is a natalist, heterosexual regime oriented around reproduction as much as around male-supremacy… [A]ll forms of gender-marginalization are at their root a disruption of heterosexuality.” —taliabhattwrites, here on Tumblr**

“Some areas in biology still refer to behaviours as sex characteristics. the whole idea of the ‘invert’ category was the idea that gays and transes were ‘doing sex backwards,’ and ‘doing the wrong sex.’ … This wasn't about a biological scientific test, and it wasn't just about coitus; it was about not fitting into a binary system of social behaviours and activities that connect to sexual behaviours… sex was both what we did, who we did it with, how we did it, and who we were.” —braindamagebaeddel, here on Tumblr

“Rather, this is an explication of the underlying root of patriarchy, its core mechanisms and systems that constitute the guiding principles of (trans)misogyny, lesbophobia-all instances of gender-marginalization. Sex is not quite as binary as advertised, because the heterosexual regime has always regarded people as one of human, broodmare, or freak. If you are not a person with autonomy, then you are a vessel for those who are ... and if you cannot even be that, then you are a waste of flesh, something to be fucked, killed, or both… The butch derided and beaten as a delusional ‘he-she,’ the tranny who can be endlessly violated, and even the woman who merely refuses to have children, are bound by this commonality. If we cannot participate in reproduction, we must be fixed… or disposed of.” —taliabhattwrites, here on Tumblr

So, someone saying, “No, I reject that” in whatever capacity, whether it’s being trans or being a lesbian or simply refusing to have sex and children, *is* radical, and not a conformance to the sex caste system *or* stereotypes. The patriarchy wants a woman to be classed as female, and clearly distinguishable as so to make her and keep her opposite that a man. Patriarchal ideas and actors do everything to convince someone to maintain a sex’s “naturally ordained” sphere of biodestiny, right down to convincing you that sex is immutable, trans is wrong, and you need a dick to be a man.

Because the OOP is right about one thing, being a man is not about having any one kind of body. Wanting is enough.

“The standards by which I can be trans and be a man are determined by a cissexist understanding of sex. And that is never more clear than in the questionnaires that shrinks give patients to “determine” if one truly has “transgender.” They will interrogate whether the patient acts in a manner “stereotypical” of the sex they were NOT assigned at birth, a concept so very loaded with patriarchal, anti-feminist, and anti-trans assumptions.” [SOURCE]

Not considering cissexism is one fundamental flaw in a TER’s “feminist” analysis. It always has been. This intentional “oversight” leads to an overwhelmingly cissexual understanding of gender diversity. TER’s are capable of only seeing transness through stereotypes and a very binary, hierarchal, and segregated lens, where “men are men, women are women, and never the twain shall meet.” They refuse to consider the way variance outside the traditional definitional bounds of our sex castes is also punished and pathologized by society. They insist on seeing transness as something that upholds the strict caste system rather than something that aids in breaking down their dichotomy of fucked and fucker in a heterosexual regime. And they do this—as well as refuse to consider the intersectional hypothesis—to avoid analyzing how they reinscribe themselves into the dramas of cissexuality, and thus uphold a foundational tenent of the patriarchy: oppositional sexism.

Trans people aren’t the only ones with socially constructed genders. Cis is not an “more natural” gender by virtue of administrative caste assignment at birth.*** Trans is not “the mind that needs fixing” while cis is “perfect in every way.” Trans is not “mutilation” while cis is “natural and whole.” It is cissexism, too, that treats transness as hysteria and simply a “feeling” with no basis in reality. Gender literally is a social construct, so that “idea in your head” can be as much a man as a woman as nothing in particular at all, so long as you want it. Because wanting *is* enough. OOP never needed “fixing,” and other gender diverse people don’t, either.

You can do something about your suicidality. You can be happy. You can be yourself. You don’t have to have everything figured out. You can remain complex and vague. Don’t die wondering.

**It is important to note here that I believe that Radical Feminist thought is, at its foundation, transphobic, colonial, and Zionist-sympathetic. So, I do not believe that it can be re-appropriated from a transphobic hate movement into something which can meaningfully fight for trans liberation or women, and break down things like western patronism and chauvinism. I do not think that the movement is separable from its history of things like anti-blackness or from thinkers like Mary Daly, Shelia Jeffries, Julie Bindel, or Janice Raymond. The fact radical feminism is so widely transphobic (also racist and misogynistic) is not a fluke; it is rooted in the philosophy’s fallacies and frequent use of essentialism. Today’s average rad fem is not a “misbegotten” inheritor, but the movement’s direct ideological descendent.

***And gender—much like sexuality—being socially constructed does not make it any less significant or real as part of sociocultural systems and identities. TERs often utilize an ad naturam fallacy to talk about social constructs, operating from the idea that there is some non-socially constructed default (natural state) from which we all originate. A sort of… state of nature, if you will. As a social species, there exists no system that is not socially constructed; even the hermit is constructed in relation to society. We should be analyzing a system on its merits, considering the social mores we wish to value, not whether it is “the most natural,” where we presuppose “naturalness” as inherently good.

“All women feel gender dysphoria. You aren’t trans; you’ve just been alienated from your reproductive labor. I used to feel this way too, and then I got over it!”

No baby, they don’t. Most cis women do not feel gender dysphoria. You also don’t simply “get over it.” Like— half your blog is dedicated to how miserable you are and the other half to calling trans women “moids.” You are having a very normal experience— gender dysphoria— that you have demonized and abnormalized. Your behavior is not a rational reaction to the way you feel about your body. You hate the way you feel, you hate what this would mean for your place in larger society, and you are externalizing this, blaming your “bad thoughts” on “Jewish Doctors” and “Transgenderism” and “Hysteria” (social contagion) because your catholic background taught you that your only worth is in using your “womb” to create more (white) babies. For the love of fuck— just go to therapy.

[heliads]

Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part One)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

series masterlist / part two

Jesper is almost one block away from the Crow Club when he senses that he isn’t alone.

Technically, he hasn’t been alone in a long time. There is no place to get away in Ketterdam, no alley left uninhabited or room without a listener. It’s certainly nothing like Novyi Zem, where you could find miles of farmland with nobody to talk to and nothing to do. No, the Barrel has never been somewhere to stay away from people.

This, however, is a different kind of presence. Jesper only notices it now, and he has no idea how long the Wraith has been following him. Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose, walking behind him, footsteps silent as ever, just to see how long it takes him to figure out that she’s there. Jesper halts in his tracks, raising his voice to the hooded figure no doubt a pace or two behind him. “I know you’re there, Inej, and if I turn around just now you had better not do that thing where you wait two inches behind me just to make me jump.”

There is silence, as expected. Jesper turns in a slow semicircle, ready for the inevitable, yet he still stiffens just slightly to see Inej standing behind him. Jesper has been in the Barrel for a long time, and gotten used to the skulking and sneaking of the various goons. He fancies himself at least somewhat capable at figuring out when people are following him, but for some reason, he cannot do the same with Inej. Not at all.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You did the thing.” Jesper finishes lamely. Something almost like a smile tugs at Inej’s lips. “That’s not exactly my fault. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for a while. I’ve practically been stomping my heels against the cobblestones.” Jesper groans. “You have not. You’ve been as silent as ever, and you know that.” Inej ignores this, jerking her chin behind her, back in the direction of the Slat. “Your Crow Club endeavor will have to wait. Kaz needs you.”

Kaz Brekker needs him. “What a surprise. I’m very useful, as it turns out. Couldn’t this wait a little longer, though? I’ve heard they’ve got a new dealer over at Makker’s Wheel.” Inej just turns around, starting to walk back towards the Slat. No matter how hard Jesper tries, he cannot hear a single footstep echo against the stones. “This is more important.” Jesper raises an eyebrow. “More important than earning the Dregs money by supporting a local establishment? He doesn’t need to worry, you know, I’ve got money.”

Jesper grimaces at the look of incredulity starting to color Inej’s eyes. “Alright, it’s not a lot of money. But it is at least enough to buy a round or two. Besides,” Jesper continues, eager to shift the conversation away from his less than prosperous gambling habits, “Why did Kaz send you? He could have just delivered a note.” Inej lifts a shoulder, even the slightest of shrugs a graceful movement. “I told you, this is important.”

Jesper is intrigued by this. “Whenever you say ‘important’ more than once, it’s always good. Is it another heist? Extortion? Maybe a good clash of rival gangs?” Inej rolls her eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. That was the whole point of me going.” Jesper sighs dramatically. “You could tell me a little bit. I wouldn’t even mention it to Kaz.”

Inej instead lets her eyes trail upwards, towards the ramshackle glory of the Slat which is visible down the block. “You’ll get your information soon enough.” Her voice grows quiet, quieter than usual. It’s practically impossible to hear over the clack of footsteps on stone as pigeons and gang members alike rush to finish their business before it grows too late and the thieves come running. “I will say one thing, though. While we’re still away from prying ears.”

Jesper leans closer, fascinated. “What is it?” Inej looks up at him, and Jesper realizes that she looks almost regretful. “Don’t be too upset.” Jesper waits for more, some explanation to this excruciatingly vague statement, but nothing happens. “Don’t be upset? What, is Kaz going to cane me to death?” Inej tilts her head to the side. “There’s a plan, and it will involve some things that you won’t be too fond of. That’s all I can say for now.”

Jesper wants to pry a little further, even if he senses that the Wraith will remain silent, but the door to the Slat is already in front of him, effectively stopping any conversation. The Dregs may be Kaz’s gang, but loyalties can always be changed. Jesper has wandered the canals long enough to know that all secrets should be kept to locked doors, and even allies can turn against you. Some conversations are best when they’re not shared at all.

Jesper looks around for Kaz in the main room of the Slat, but he doesn’t see the dark-haired boy anywhere. Instead, Inej inclines her head towards the rickety set of stairs at the back of the room. “He’ll be waiting for you in his office.” Jesper moves to ask her something, anything, about what else is waiting for him there, but before he can even open his mouth to speak Inej has disappeared. It’s fascinating- Jesper hadn’t even turned away or looked elsewhere, yet she had vanished right before his open eyes. He hadn’t seen her go, just witnessed her blink away into the shadows.

Jesper stares at the empty floorboards where Inej had once stood, then, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a particularly nerve-wracking round of cards, begins to ascend the flights of stairs. He pauses once outside the door to Kaz’s office, touching the hilts of his pearl handled revolvers for luck, then pushes open the door and steps inside.

Kaz is waiting for him, standing at his desk and running through a map spread out across the wooden surface. He looks up when he sees Jesper enter, straightening to nod once in greeting. Jesper’s eyes travel to Inej, who had somehow beat him up the stairs and is now perched, catlike, on Kaz’s windowsill.

Kaz doesn’t bother with pleasantries or questions about Jesper’s day, as per usual, just dives into an explanation. “There’s a mercher living down near the Financial District. He’s like the others- snotty, pretends to be pious, unseasonably rich for someone who just arrived at his title, but he’s strayed too far from his gilded walkways and tried to start restrictions on Fifth Harbor.”

Jesper lets out a snort. “Merchers. Always getting too big for their tie pins.” Kaz ignores this. “Under his new plan, we’d have to pay out reparations to him and also ease back on coaxing pigeons into our establishments. There’s no way in hell that would ever pass, but this mercher just happens to have some pretty significant blackmail on key members of the Merchant Council, and they’ll pass whatever bill he wants so long as he keeps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him directly, but we can break into his mansion and steal his proof of the Council’s less savory transactions. Without the blackmail, the Council will never pass the bill, and we’ll be fine.”

Jesper raises an eyebrow. “As easy as that?” Kaz lifts a shoulder. “There’s a slight complication. This mercher, Joeri ter Steege, has a certain thing for oceanside views. He’s found himself a nice little inlet near the water’s edge, and access to his mansion is only available by boat. This means that any attempt to access his house would mean we would travel by water, and any boat could easily be sighted by guards that patrol the area.”

Jesper squints at Kaz. “What do you mean, only available by boat? If he’s living in an inlet, shouldn’t there be some dock connecting it to the mainland?” Inej flashes him a smile. “The merch has got himself a moat.” Jesper stares. “You’re kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me. This merch is so extravagantly wealthy that he’s gone and got himself a moat? Ghezen’s hand, maybe I should become a banker. The things I could do.” Inej hides a laugh. “The moats you could build.”

Kaz’s hand tightens around his crow’s head cane. “Regardless of the merch’s terrible landscaping decisions, the fact remains that access will be practically impossible. To get across, we’d need a boat, and any boat would be sighted by guards. That’s why we need a Tidemaker.” Jesper’s smile starts to drop from his face. Suddenly, pieces are starting to fall into place. Inej’s warning. Kaz’s mention of a Tidemaker. Jesper shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you got the one Tidemaker I’m thinking of. Please say you brought in somebody else.”

Kaz opens his mouth to either condemn this or save Jesper’s skin, but then a voice rings out from the newly opened door and Jesper’s spirits sink into his boots. “Afraid not, Fahey. They’ve brought me.” Jesper turns around, finding himself face to face with a girl just walking into the office, hand loosely wrapped around the wooden doorframe. She tosses him a smile as if they’re old friends, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jesper whirls back around to face Kaz. “You didn’t. You’re really trusting her? Y/N L/N?” Kaz shrugs. “She’s the best there is, unfortunately. We need to remain hidden, and she’s the only one who won’t rat us out or let us drown.” Y/N walks further into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I appreciate the vote in confidence, but don’t worry about me. I can get you in and out, no problem. Well, the only problem will be you, sharpshooter.”

Jesper feels the sudden need to grab one (or maybe both) of his revolvers and let fly with his bullets. Can a Tidemaker wash away a hail of ammunition? Jesper’s assuming not. Kaz taps his cane against the floor. “Let’s not reach to violence just yet, Jesper. Wait until after the extraction is over.” Jesper throws one last glare Y/N’s way. “Trust me, I’ll have no problem with that.” He can wait, after all.

The problem with Y/N L/N is this: she keeps finding a way to meddle with everything he does. First, Jesper was on a heist by himself, breaking into a stronghold of the Dime Lions to snatch up an encoded message left by Pekka Rollins. He was doing fine until a wave of water cascaded in through the windows, knocking him aside and thoroughly drenching the paper. It was useless now, both to Rollins and to Kaz. Y/N had only bothered to toss a wink across the room before leaving, allowing her wave to soak Jesper’s boots while she was at it.

The second time was during a shootout. She’d been hired to the other side, although Jesper hadn’t known it yet. Jesper was just about to fire upon the lousy goon who’d hired her when she’d used her powers again, this time specifically intending to ruin his guns. His precious pearl-handled revolvers, soaked through with water. It had taken him forever to get the saltwater out of every crack and groove in the metal, and during all of that time he’d vowed to himself that he’d be the one to darken her doorway and make Y/N regret ever stepping foot against him again.

Jesper had won the third time. This time, he was the unexpected guest, and she was seconds away from drowning an entire swath of gang members to protect a secret. She was just raising her hands to move the water into place when a gunshot sounded from out of nowhere and she was knocked sideways, hand already raising to the stain of red starting to bloom out from her arm. It wouldn’t kill her, unfortunately, but it was enough to give the gang members time to escape. Some of them were Dregs, after all, and Jesper had some friends to protect. That isn’t to say that he didn’t walk away with a smile, just that he had multiple motives.

Needless to say, he didn’t exactly have the best history with Y/N L/N. And now Kaz was asking him to have her back during a heist? It sounds like a joke. Unfortunately, Jesper has a sinking feeling that there’s no getting out of this. If he’s going to have to depend on Y/N for his life, things might not exactly go according to plan. He has no idea where Y/N’s loyalties lie, he reasons, but Jesper thinks there might be more to it than that.

The group meets up at the water’s edge. The canals bleed into the harbor here, and Jesper can just make out the lights of Joeri ter Steege’s mansion across the glittering black of the waves. He can also make out a slight tension in Kaz’s grip on his cane as he takes in the sight of the undulating water, but that isn’t for him to notice. Y/N melts out of the shadows, a blue lining on her coat the only indication that she might still cling to Ravkan traditions for Grisha. “Well?” She asks, walking past them as if not expecting an answer, “Are we ready?”

Y/N spreads her hands and the water of the harbor flickers and shifts on the surface. As Jesper watches, Y/N steps forward, and the water solidifies under her feet as if she’s walking on glass instead of the tides. She pushes her hands apart, and the area of solid water expands until it’s large enough to act as a bridge. She turns to the rest of the group. “We can walk from here. It’ll be faster than a boat, and far more quiet.” 

Kaz nods, beginning to walk after her on the bridge of water. Before his feet leave the ground, his mouth moves once. “No mourners.” Jesper nods. “No funerals.” They won’t be able to speak as freely at the mercher’s island, so this will do best. Jesper considers the unmoving waves one last time, then follows him. He’s half expecting Y/N to let the water liquify under his feet just a little bit, out of spite, but it holds. They continue along the harbor, and if Jesper turns his head he can see the bridge rippling back into normal water after they pass by it. It raises the hairs on the back of his neck to see his escape route disappear so quickly, but Jesper does his best to quiet the voice of warning. Kaz would never bring Y/N in if he thought she would betray them, and even if he did, Kaz would have another way out. That’s just the way Dirtyhands worked.

All the same, Jesper feels a little better when his heels land on solid ground once more. Kaz doesn’t have to say a word, just points at the roof. Jesper nods, remembering the plan. He and Y/N split away from Kaz and Inej, heading towards the roof for their line of entry. When Jesper had heard this part of the plan, he had complained viciously. Why should he have to go scale the building alone with Y/N? Why couldn’t Inej go instead? In the end, it hadn’t mattered- the plan needed them both there, so that’s where they would go.

Jesper doesn’t exactly have Inej’s skill in climbing, but ter Steege makes it easy. There are balconies and handholds practically everywhere, as if the merch is offering free mansion climbing lessons to anyone interested. Jesper supposes that one would be less concerned about robberies if you had a moat, but still. You have that much money, you might as well pretend to make it hard for light-fingered con artists.

Soon enough, Jesper and Y/N are standing on the roof, staring down at the fourth skylight from the left. This is where they’ll enter, once it reaches eleven bells and it’s time to move. Now, however, all they can do is wait as Kaz and Inej get into position. Jesper carefully sits down, letting his long legs prop up against the tiles of the roof. Y/N sits next to him, staring up at the sky. The moon is out tonight, the pale light illuminating her eyes and dusting her cheeks.

Distantly, Jesper realizes that he’s never seen her like this- letting her guard down for once. He’s not shooting at her, she’s not trying to drown him, it’s almost like a peace offering. Y/N must be having the same thoughts, because she turns to face him. The moonlight still stays on her face, as if unwilling to let go. Jesper has the sudden thought that he wouldn’t want to do the same either, if he had the opportunity to linger here, then shakes himself mentally.

Y/N’s voice is quiet, a whisper cutting through his thoughts and scattering them to the wind. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been fighting when we first met each other? Would we have been friends like you and Kaz?” Jesper chuckles in spite of himself. “If you think Kaz Brekker makes friends, I’m starting to think that you’ve suffered a head injury.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “He trusts you. That’s rare.” Jesper shrugs, conceding this. He keeps speaking, though, even when he has just decided to remain silent. “I think we could have been close. We have similar interests.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Money? A good time?” Jesper flashes her a grin, easy as flipping a coin and landing it square in your palm. “Exactly. See? We already understand each other perfectly.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh at that, moonlight still teasing at the corner of her lips. Jesper’s eyes linger longer than they should. Curse his tendencies to start rivalries with the prettiest of enemies- it’s beginning to get him into trouble. Y/N’s head tilts towards the tides below, and then she stands. “It’s time. The bells are about to ring.” Jesper mourns the moment lost, then stands and takes his position by the skylight. He waits for the bells to begin to toll, then grabs his revolver, spinning it back and forth in his palm like a nervous tic before firing four times at the corners of the window, exactly where the locks will hold.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes track the spin of the gun, or the admirative tug of her lips into a half smile. However, now is no longer the time for schoolboy glances, and Jesper kneels at the window, carefully removing it from its frame. This is their entrance, and they would do well to hurry along.

The plan almost goes well. Almost. They manage to break into the mercher’s office, stealing the documents and meeting up with Kaz and Inej to get out, but just as they’re about to cross through the main atrium of the mansion, a loud dissonance of bells breaks out. An alarm. Jesper sees identical looks of panic reflected on every face- this was not supposed to happen. Not at all. They don’t hesitate, just run. Jesper’s lived in the Barrel long enough to remember this one lesson: when you can’t count on gangs or anyone to have your back, your feet always will. Just remember to keep moving.

They’re almost to the water’s edge when the shots ring out. Guards have followed them out of the building and fire even as their feet pound down the beach. Jesper’s revolvers are in his hands before another second can pass, bullets aimed with precision as he runs. They’re almost to the water when he hears a sound from behind him that draws all breath from his lungs. From here, it almost sounds like a cry of pain. It’s soft, as if someone’s trying not to draw attention, but Jesper hears it nonetheless.

He turns around and his stomach clenches with horror as he realizes he was right. Y/N is stumbling, clutching a terrible scarlet stain across her chest. It’s deep, too deep, and far too close to her heart to be safe. Y/N has time to fling her arms up, casting out the bridge of water once more, before she falls to the ground. All of a sudden, Jesper’s vision tunnels. He can only see two things: Y/N, hand limp over the spreading blood, and the guards, pistols still smoking.

Jesper’s shots ring out again and again. He can’t hear anything other than a buzzing in his ears, something that might be his pulse or just a sign that he’s gone mad. To be honest, Jesper’s not sure that he cares. Bullets careen through the air, curving around pillars and corners to reach their targets. His da would panic to see him, grab Jesper by his shoulders and tell him to be more careful. Anyone could know now, could see the way the bullets fly through the air as if guided by an invisible hand and figure out what that means, but Jesper doesn’t think about that for a second. All he can think about is revenge, and making sure that every single body falls to the ground.

Jesper’s haze leaves him, and he realizes that all of the guards are dead. All of them. Then his guns are back in their holsters, and he’s scrambling towards Y/N. When he picks her up, she feels cold. Too cold. Blood is staining his hands now, turning the long fingers red, but he barely notices at all. His heels flash down the beach, then onto the water, which is still solid. It must be killing her to keep this up, but she’s still doing it.

Jesper swore that it took far longer to make the trip over the harbor, but it feels like he’s barely taken a few steps before he’s on the other side and the water bridge is swallowed up by the tides once more. Kaz and Inej have just made it onto the other side, and their eyes widen at the crazed look on Jesper and the bloodied form of Y/N in his arms. Jesper doesn’t have time to consider this, and he shouts at them as he runs. “Get a healer! Get somebody- Nina, maybe. Anybody.”

Inej takes off into the streets, but Kaz remains, giving Jesper a particular look. “I remember you saying something about how Y/N was your rival. This is your chance, you know. The Barrel can be a ruthless place, and nobody would suspect you if she never made it back.” Jesper has the feeling that this is a test, some challenge placed before him to see how he’ll respond, but he can’t find it within himself to care. Jesper has always had an affinity for the odds, but this once, it’s not enough. “No. I’m getting her out. I need a Healer.”

Kaz steps back, allowing Jesper to pass, but not before he sees the appraising look in his eyes. Kaz nods once, briefly, and then Jesper is around the corner and sprinting headlong towards the Slat. A Healer is indeed waiting there, and holds out her arms to receive Y/N. For a second, Jesper’s arms clench around her body, unwilling to give her up, and then he forces his arms to relax and she’s gone, carried away into another room.

Jesper is left with the blood staining his shirt and the decision staining his conscience. If Y/N died, was it his fault? Should he care this much? He’s not sure that question can even be answered. The Healer comes out eventually, nodding at him. She’s not ready to have visitors, or at least she won’t be awake to see them, but that doesn’t stop Jesper from disappearing into her room the second the Healer leaves.

Jesper feels his throat close up when he sees her. Y/N is lying stiff and unmoving on a narrow bed, breath unnaturally slow and eyes closed. It’s strange- he’s seen her fiery and powerful, glowing as a Grisha does after they use their powers, but now she looks seconds from death. Jesper’s feet carry him woodenly over to the bed, and he stands there for a moment before reaching down and taking her hand. He doesn’t expect to feel anything at all, yet there’s a slight pressure and her eyelids flicker open.

“What, trying to finish the job?” A slight smile cracks Y/N’s lips, and Jesper feels like he could cry out in relief. Maybe it’s time he takes up Inej’s saints after all. “You’re alright?” She nods, although even this small movement appears to hurt. “As well as one can. I think I have someone to thank for that, though.” Jesper nods slowly. “Yeah, the Healer was great. We should keep her around just in case.”

Y/N laughs, the sound undamaged even as her blood still stains the bandages. “You’re impossible. I’m talking about you.” Jesper’s cheeks feel hot. “Oh.” Now this is unreal- usually he’s the one eliciting blushes, never the other way around. “I couldn’t just leave you there, you know.” She nods once, smiling, and then her eyelids seem too heavy to stay open and she starts to drift off to sleep once more. If Jesper happened to stay with her even after her eyes shut, and even if a kiss just happened to be pressed to her cheek, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[laequiem]

Careful whispers

/ Elain notices shadows moving in her room, so she decides to see if they report back to Azriel. They do. It's porn, y'all. 2.5k words.

this was... supposed to be short... and not angsty. oops.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Azriel / Elain Archeron

Rating: Explicit (see ao3 for more specific tags)

Word count: 2,739

These days, Elain's thoughts keep spiraling to the brush of a wing against her neck as she kneels gardening and the soft touch of scarred fingers against hers when he hands her a glass of wine over dinner.

read on ao3 • masterlist

These days, Elain's thoughts keep spiraling to the brush of a wing against her neck as she kneels gardening and the soft touch of scarred fingers against hers when he hands her a glass of wine over dinner.

What has gotten into her? She who was so against the idea of a male is now longing for a fae's blood-stained hands.

As her hand travels south towards her aching core, she does not think of Graysen's noble fingers. Even with her gardening calluses, she finds she needs more to scratch the itch. She runs her hand over a heavy breast, angling her finger to run a jagged nail over its peak.

A soft moan escapes her. The effect definitely works, she can imagine his fingers instead of hers as her hand dips lower, under her nightgown.

As Elain circles the bud at the apex of her thighs with two fingers, she curses herself for her inexperience. A centuries-old fae male would surely know what to do better than she can. As she spent most of her teenage years at the cottage, sharing a bed with her sisters, she did not have the opportunity to explore self-pleasure. Only when she met Graysen did she entertain the idea, once her family had moved to the house Tamlin paid for.

Graysen, who had taken her maidenhead.

Graysen, whom she was supposed to now be married to.

She does think about him, sometimes, but it has become rarer. Nowadays, her thoughts are mostly consumed by cold hazel eyes and muscled brown skin.

Her fingers—too small, too delicate—travel southwards still as her thumb lingers on the bundle of nerves.

As she dips two fingers in her heat, she whimpers his name.

Azriel.

She knows it is wrong, but in all her virtue, even Elain is not immune to the call of forbiddenness.

Eyes closed, her other hand clamped over her mouth, Elain rides her hand with vehemence.

In the darkest corner of the room, shadows shift excitedly before disappearing, running to their master.

-

With Nesta and Cassian rutting in the House day in, day out, Azriel has a lot of trouble sleeping. He tried earlier, when his shadows had gone to sleep, but all he could think about was the stench of their lust. So he resolved himself to work until exhaustion drags him to sleep.

Maaaaas~ter.

His shadows should not be here at this hour. He would be worried something had happened, if not for the way they singsong their title to him. They had been his only friends for years. Just like he learned to hear them, he learned to read their mood. And this tone only means one thing: mischief.

Maaaaaaster!

Two of the shadows are curling around his neck, writhing with delight as they try to get his attention. Farther away, spread in all the dark corners of his room, others are snickering.

What.

You should go to the seer.

He straightens and gets up. Alone with his shadows is the only time he would let his fears show so blatantly. Did something happen to Elain?

The shadows curling around him giggle together.

No.

More shadows approach him, crowding at his shoulders. Some start pulling at his hair, snickering as they dance around the strands.

The fawn sings your name in the dark.

Go to her.

You will thank us later.

That's enough. I told you to never spy on her.

Come with us.

Before he can protest any more, shadows crowd him, casting him in total darkness.

In the blink of an eye, he finds himself transported to the River House, standing in Elain's room in only his underwear.

Busybodies.

His shadows did not even bother to hide him—they winnowed him right to the only light source in the room, in a ray of moonlight coming through the window.

Azriel is immediately hit by the musky scent of arousal, mixed with Elain's usual scent of jasmine and fresh bread.

Cauldron boil him alive.

-

Now that he is here, Elain has lost all bravado she previously felt when she noticed the shadows moving in the corner of the room.

Her hand stills. The idea of putting on a show had turned her on earlier, but now that it's real, now that she can hear his breath catch as he notices her, she flushes.

She pulls her nightgown back into place.

How long has passed since he appeared? Seconds? Minutes? Neither of them speaks.

Finally, Elain looks at him. Her blood rushes downwards as she takes in his toned body, the mighty wings, and, through his silken underwear, the… attentiveness of him.

Her whole face warms up, cheeks tingling with the telltale sign of a blush. Get it together, Elain, this isn't the first naked man you've seen.

No, but it is the first naked male.

She gathers her courage enough to finally drawl, "do you always send your friends to spy on me?"

"No." She swears she can see his throat bob. "They disobeyed. There will be consequences."

Her toes curl at his tone and, even if they're hidden under the blankets, he chuckles. He knows—of course he knows. He might be the quietest member of Rhysand's court, but he notices everything. It's no wonder that, when she sits up, his eyes track the strap of her nightgown hanging off her shoulder.

"Everyone is asleep," she says simply, letting him gather the meaning from her obvious statement.

"Your mate is—"

"I don't care."

"He might… hear."

Elain grabbed the hem of her nightgown and slowly lifted if, baring herself to him.

"Then, I suppose you'll have to silence me."

Azriel holds himself with preternatural stillness, gifted by his fae heritage and honed by centuries of training. His eyes follow one leg, savouring every inch of the skin she usually hides away. When his gaze reaches her mons, his chest rises in a deep breath.

He takes a careful step towards her. Maybe he is giving her time to reconsider, but Elain feels more like a cornered animal—he walks to her like a predator approaching prey, moving as though she would flee at the first sound.

Elain shifts on the bed and opens her legs for him. At the sight of her, bare and swollen with want, Azriel pounces.

Elain's only other experience with sex had been quick and to the point. It had been magical, in a way that having your first time with your first love can be. It had been soft, with a lot of kissing and grabbing until he positioned himself on top of her and entered. After a couple of minutes of inexperienced thrusts, Graysen had finished and Elain fell asleep in his arms.

And so, when Azriel dives straight between her legs, she gasps. Azriel lets out a primal groan as he parts her with a broad stroke of his tongue. Elain cannot get herself to look at him and the depravity of seeing his dark locks between her legs.

He devours her like a starving man, his skilled tongue swirling around her bundle of nerves in tight circles. It quickly becomes too much and she bucks her hips, unconsciously denying herself release. A strong hand pins her back down to the mattress, holding her there as his tongue quickens its ministrations.

Elain looks down at him only to find those gorgeous hazel eyes staring right at her. He is all tousled hair and dilated pupils, no expression on his perfect face. His other hand slowly trails up her thigh, raising her leg towards her torso as it goes. Soon enough, his hand reaches her center and a broad finger teases at her entrance. As he swirls the tip of his finger slowly, stretching the tight skin, Elain wimpers.

Slowly, Az works his finger inside her. The sound is positively obscene, her wetness mixed with the lapping and sucking of his mouth. Azriel's finger finally bottoms out, and he angles it up. The feeling is strange, but not unwelcome—and before she can even understand what is happening, mind-numbing pleasure ripples through her. Her body jerks, held in place only by Azriel's hand on her abdomen. His trained tongue escorts her through her orgasm, slowing as the wave dies down. To her surprise, however, he does not stop.

Elain is panting, her vision filled with stars, but Azriel continues his work. With every flick of his tongue on her nub, Elain's hips jerk and her legs twitch. The sensation is overwhelming, almost painful.

"Azriel," she whimpers, "I can't—"

Azriel pulls away from her and shifts on the bed to lay on his side next to her.

Bringing his mouth to her ear, he whispers, barely more than a breath, "you can."

"It's too much," she cries in response.

"You can," he raises the hand that was resting against her abdomen, bringing a finger to her lips, "but you have to stay quiet."

The rasp of his voice combined with the lust in his eyes set her body ablaze. She nods shallowly, trailing her gaze down his body. He looks like a work of art, a carved statue of marble—his muscles glistening in sweat, his perfectly carved face and the length of him straining against his silken underwear.

Azriel's hand starts rubbing her again, gently, and Elain parts her lips at the renewed contact. She hears him sigh, clearly restraining a groan, when his fingers find their way to her entrance again. This time, he teases her with two fingers. With his other hand, he mirrors the movement to her mouth. As if by instinct, Elain parts her lips around his fingers and takes them in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the callused pads.

"Good girl," he purrs.

Azriel rewards her by plunging two fingers in her, curling once again towards that spot she cannot comfortably reach on her own. His thumb circles her bud in tandem.

Soon enough, Elain feels the coil inside her tighten, and she tumbles off the edge again. Her back arches as she comes violently—she might have accidentally bitten down on Azriel's fingers—, her hands desperately clawing at the sheets to anchor herself to reality.

When Elain's head stops spinning and she lays on her bed panting, she sees Azriel get up.

Elain narrows her eyes in confusion as his shadows start to appear around him, preparing to winnow him into the night. Suddenly, she is filled with insecurity. Is she not what he was expecting? She has been wanting him for weeks, months, and she thought… well, she would never assume to know what he wanted, but it had seemed that they wanted the same thing. From the stolen glances and the rare jokes they shared only with each other, she had presumed he felt for her like she did for him. Yet now he was readying to leave without a word.

"Wait—"

The shadows dissipate again, the sound of her voice enough to send them away.

If this was all he wanted, Elain could live with that, but something about his demeanor made her stop him. The way his eyes dart away from her, the way they stare blankly at nothing instead, the droop of his wings.

"What about you?" she asks softly.

"Don't worry about me."

"It's not fair. For you."

"I can take care of myself." His voice is cold and detached. "You've gifted me plenty to do so."

Gifted.

It hits her then. Ever since he winnowed in, his eyes have been filled with lust. He stared at her mouth, but he never kissed her and barely even touched her. It felt as if it was a piece of himself he was not yet ready to give—or a piece of her he felt unworthy to take.

He plans to go back to the House of Wind and take care of himself in private.

"Can I… watch?"

-

Azriel was not one to care about religion, but thinking of Elain always made him feel like the filthiest heretic. And so, tasting her felt like spitting on the Mother herself. Touching her, with the same hands he used to torture a Hybern rebel just hours ago, surely tainted her with his sins. Even in his most indulgent fantasies, he never let himself go further than tasting and touching her.

He would not dare think himself worthy of being in her.

But neither was that pathetic waste of breath Graysen.

And Lucien.

Lucien.

Just the thought of him watching impassively as Feyre wasted away in that manor—

"Can I… watch?" Elain murmurs.

Azriel's eyes widen. He feels his cheeks heating, and by the smile appearing on Elain's beautiful face, he knows he must be blushing brightly.

She is not yours. The Cauldron does not want you together.

The Cauldron never gave him anything, only pain.

Her mate is here. He will know.

Her mate did nothing to deserve her.

She does not want her mate.

It does not matter what Lucien wants, Elain has made it clear she wants nothing to do with him.

She wants this. Indulge her.

She shouldn’t want this. She deserves so much more. Yet...

Azriel nods once, barely visible, then sits on the edge of her bed.

Tentatively, he runs a hand over his clothed length. His calluses catch against the silk, but he keeps going. With Elain looking at him, the familiar shame that rises in him whenever he touches himself multiplies ten folds. He shuts his eyes tight against her gaze and immediately his other senses seem to pick up her presence even more. The smell of her arousal and floral perfume, the sound of her heart thundering in her chest, the taste of her that lingers in his mouth.

Az squeezes his cock, the fabric acting as a buffer between the scars of his hands and himself, and strokes it from base to tip. Images swirl in his mind, more vivid than ever before. One light stroke, she is on her bed with her legs spread, so utterly unaware of how many times he had imagined this exact scene. He strokes himself firmly as he remembers her soaking sex, the taste of it as he drank his fill.

As his mind plays out the view he had from between her legs, his hips buck. The mattress shifts next to him, but he pays it no mind. He sees the way her breasts heaved as she restrained herself from making a sound, feels her legs twitch around his head. He rubs his thumb over his glans, feeling the moisture seep through his underwear. The way Elain had sucked on his fingers, her warm mouth surrounding him, is sure to be his main fantasy from now on. The way her lips parted for him, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

With his eyes closed, lost in his fantasies, he had completely forgotten Elain’s presence until he felt something brushing the inside of his right wing. His eyes snap open, immediately turning his head to see Elain, kneeling inches away from him. How far gone had he been, to not notice her? She is so close, he can feel her breath on his wing.

Elain looks at him guiltily, as if his reaction made her regret touching him.

“Lower,” he tells her. He hisses quietly as she lets her hand brush against the thin membrane of his wing. “Trace the scar.”

Azriel shudders as Elain runs her fingers over the scar, once, twice. The pace of his hand is punishing now, and when Elain scratches her nails against the sensitive scar, Az erupts. He keeps stroking himself as he spends in his underwear, the oversensitive pain punishing him for his depravity. He keeps going until tears prick at the corners of his eyes and overstimulation threatens to make him whimper.

For a long moment, they sit there in silence; Azriel with his eyes staring right ahead, and Elain looking at him. There is still no sound in the house, thank the Mother.

“We should… do this again,” Elain says tentatively.

“We can’t.”

Az gets up. He calls his shadows and they quickly come, gathering around him.

“But—”

“Good night, Elain.”

The room disappears and Azriel is back at his room in the House of Wind. He lets himself fall face-first on his bed and groans.

How can he possibly stay away now?

[boxboysandotherwhump]

The new boy in town.

Tags:  @salamancialilypad  @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee  @ashintheairlikesnow   @haro-whumps   @moose-teeth @vickytokio​ @yet-another-heathen​ @orchidscript

Chapter 2

CW: body-shaming/ insults, discrimination/ dehumanization of mutants, an insect gets hurt, a nearly fistfight ensues

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit under the torrid summer sun while this horrible lavender scent clung to his hair,  his skin, his clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, Gideon realized as he hurried after Director Sahin. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him. His artfully decorated spear swayed with every step he took, not brushing a single leave. The only thing rustling through the underbrush was the wind and the creatures living there.

A twig caught in Gideon’s black curls, while the Director rambled on about the virtues of disciplinary work. How it encouraged the growth of one’s character, or some shit. The twig broke off with a quiet snap, painfully pulling at his scalp. Gideon’s mood dropped even lower. It was going to be a nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later on.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure. 

The only thing keeping him from bursting at the seams was the promise he’d whispered into his brother's grave, a last farewell bedded beside a corpse. 

Gideon had come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not to become some obedient little soldier boy! But in order to do that, he had to get cleared for training again and out of suspension.

If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day to achieve that, so be it. He had endured worse.  

“Haaah, here we are.” Director Sahin inhaled deeply, arms falling wide. “Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

Gideon shrugged. “‘S’ okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he-

The farm’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest, and a fine-boned, middle aged woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard.  A boy, probably his own age but significantly shorter, held the door open for them.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of Director Sahin, whose whole face had lit up. Dark eyes shining. 

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave? Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. Moira crossed her arms, smile growing sharper. Her eyes held a warm twinkle as she spoke. “Eric; charming as ever.”

The man behind her stepped closer and huffed:  “M happy ‘ter see ya too, Eric.”

“Oh Ansgar you flatter me. But I must confess, I am not here solely for tea and a chat-“

The Director rattled on and Gideon’s focus wandered to the girl that had stepped out the door behind a blonde woman. A fancy grey blouse hung off her thin shoulders, nearly covering the  lace trim of blue silk short. A stark contrast to the more practical attire favored by most villagers. But that wasn’t what caught Gideon’s attention, no, he had seen all sorts of fancy getups up in Berlin -in the city's upper ring that is- what drew his eyes to her, was her face.

Its left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin uneven like a creased silk sheet, drawing her left eye down and her full lips up. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back in just in time, to give them a curt nod.

“I will send him to collect the salve after the feast, then,” Director Sahin announced, please as can be. 

“Wonderful.” Moira clapped her hands. All back to business brusqueness.  “Sahar will appreciate not having to deliver it for once. Right?”

The other boy snapped to attention, green eyes wide and fingers twitching like the hands of a pianist. A grateful smile rose to his face and he nodded.

Oh great, so Gideon had to take the trip up here twice. 

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path. Sahar right in front of him, following the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer like him.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road. Gideon nearly collided with Sahar, when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core. 

Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves. 

He knew that sound. 

Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them.

He would never forget a spider’s hiss. 

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape that was fastened to a beetle’s shell armoring his left shoulder. Shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. The man did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

Tense static filled the air, an almost tangible thing that bit at Gideons fingers. It wormed its way into his bones, crawled over his scalp.  

He almost, almost, flinched when Director Sahin shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy half-grin.

 “Hey, there. Hold your horses. Before someone does something he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” Ansgar grunted.

Moira ducked past him, face twisted in a furious scowl as she spit. “Oh, something other than entering our village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!”

The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed as she shook her fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim to.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Director Sahim stepped up beside her, spear held in a steady grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, hands raised in mock offense. “A monster?! Only reason I got past your insect defenses was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he rapped his knuckles against it. 

“Renders her absolutely obedient. All natural instinct turned off. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered in the sun before he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only its yaws twitched, creating this awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

 “She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculated cold composure. She ignored the incredulous look the blonde woman gave her, as she mouthed: “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

The intruder's mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowed, fixed on the girl's deformed face. Venom spiked his words, dripped from his tongue like acid. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon oddly of his father. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move. He planted himself right between the girl and the intruder.

How dare he compare someone to mutant scum?!

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever even seen one? Or are you just talk? Threatening girls?!”

“Gideon.”, Director Sahim hissed, squeezing Gideon’s shoulder in warning as he tried to pull him back. 

The man gave them a wry smile. “No no. Let’s hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes.” Gideon spat, unable to reign his emotions back in. “They’re hideous monstrosities.  And I’m going to find and kill every single one of them.”

The man burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Do you really think a girl can’t be a mutant? Monster’s come in all shapes and sizes, boy.” His eyes wandered back to Charlotte.  “Just ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.`` 

The blonde woman gasped, searching for words to shoot back, but falling silent as she noticed Charlotte’s expression. 

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but Sahar was faster, his small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and and and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And and and people who talk about, talk about killing others for no- no, no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”  

His fingers fiddled with his shorts, tapping and twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words. His big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingered on the intruder’s face before landing on Gideon. They narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.  

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms, Sahar forced himself to hold his ground against Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare.  “You you, you heard me.”

Gideon heart hammered in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug into his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin.

 “Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage burned through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

Beating the selfritousnes out of that stupid stammering farmboy was the only thing that mattered now. Everything else blurred to background noise. Even the stranger on his shitty spider. 

In that frozen second between charge and impact, Sahar’s  feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s blow. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself. His fingers had stopped twitching.

That little runt had nerves! 

Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” He swung his arm back. “Try to handle this!”

Muscles flexing Gideon readied for impact, only for his arm to be janked back. A  large hand had wrapped around his wrist. Stopped him mid punch.  Craning his neck, Gideon stared up into Ansgar’s stern face.

Fuck he’s fast?! 

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

Director Sahin sighed, eyes still locked on the intruder, who watched the spectacle with a lazy kind of interest.

Ansgar released Gideon’s hand and turned to Sahar. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Sahar blinked up at the man, eyes round and full of disbelief.

“Wh-what- what, what do you, do do do do- what do you  mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” Ansgar’s voice did not waver and every word made Sahar shrink into himself. His fingers tapped a hectic distorted rhythm over his leg

The intruder snickered, “someone’s a stuck up,” earning Moira’s venomous glare. 

“But- but I didn’t- he he he he he was, he was the one who-“

“Enough,” Ansgar thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar crumbled under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling jaw, painting a glistening path on his warm skin.

Voice reduced to a shaky exhale Sahar nodded,  “yes, sir.”, and stormed up the stairs.

He had just vanished between the thick bushes, when the intruder broke out into a new laughing fit.

[blissfulparker]

I Really Like You Too→Peter.p

Parings→peter Parker x avenger!reader

Summary→when you have a rough night on patrol, you decide to end it at peters house. Expect when you just think peter is going to help you get cleaned up, things turn into more.

Warnings→fluff, slight angst I guess?

A/n→this moodboard could be used for something more and I am thinking about that. But anyway this is for @icyhollands thank you for donating to help with the blm movement! I hope you enjoy💗💗

The crisp new york breeze caressed your cheek as you took off your mask. The wind making the tip of your nose slightly colder and goosebumps rise on your skin.

You sat on Peter's fire escape, not wanting to face the rest of the avengers quite yet. having them question the swollen ankle and all the cuts on your body. Peter sits at his desk, you laugh a little as he would normally do homework on a friday night but instead he has assembled some legos you heard him and Ned talking about earlier this week.

You always had a small crush on Peter, ever since he first came into the tower as tony's new project you knew there was something special. Maybe it was how smart he was, the way he looked out for you on missions, or maybe it was how awkward he was around you at first. How his cheeks would go so red when almost any woman avenger touched him. He was sweet, smart, respectful, a bit nerdy but everything you could ask for.

You softly knock on his window causing him to jump but take out a headphone to pay attention to you. He is quick to get up and unlock the window for you to come in. helping you softly as you step in, one hand around your waist and the other holding your hand.

“W-What happened? Are you alright?” he asked, trying to keep his eyes off of the skintight suit. His hand reaches up to touch the bruised skin just under your cheek.

“I didnt mean to intrude, im sorry i just cant let them see me like this just yet. You know how bucky gets i mean hes basically my—“ he cuts you off by bringing you over to his bathroom. You two quietly leave the room and he sits you on his bathroom counter. His whole first aid kit was made by May when she found this whole second life out about him. He now uses it mostly for you since when he gets hurt he stops by your place to get treated.

“T-this might sting a little.” he comes down on his knees and brings the ointment to your leg. You tense up at the feeling, but also the sight of seeing him on his knees for you makes you slightly weak.

You two sit in comfortable silence as he tends to your wounds, his hand wrapped around your leg as he tends to the swollen ankle.

“Hows Ned?” you ask trying to make light conversation while also trying not to wake his aunt. Even though you hung out with the friend group nearly daily, you didnt attend midtown. Tony didn't want any chances of you being seen and exposed so he kept you homeschooled at the tower.

“He's good, we were going to hang out tonight but he got stuck babysitting.” Peter answers honestly. You smile softly before the next question makes you lose it quickly.

“How's MJ?” you ask with more of a wander in your voice. You didn't hate MJ, no. You liked her alot, she was smart and you two had alot in common but she was gorgeous, slightly sadistic but absolutely gorgeous.

“Good as well. Friday night and she got a new book over the week so dont expect to hear from her anytime soon.” peter chuckles a little and you do too. He gets up from the floor, washing his hands and then proceeds to move to the smaller cuts on your arms and face.

“Do you ever think about MJ...more than just a friend?” you ask him and he stops. His mouth slightly opened and you can practically hear his heartbeat racing. Your body sinks deeper into the counter and you grow cold, you wished you didn't ask the question anymore.

“D-did MJ set you up to this?” he swallows hard and you shake your head.

“N-no. it just...as a friend you can tell me about your crushes pete.” you try and play it off cool but he does keep eye contact as he tends the forehead wound.

“She's a friend. Nothing more.” it's like what you asked almost offended him. His jaw clenched as he moved faster to patch you up. You reach to hold his arm for comfort but he moves it back as a sign for you not to hold him.

“I-i'm sorry did i offend you or something?” your voice is confused and broken. His hands are being washed once again. Your blood washes down the drain as he cleans himself.

He does say anything again. You hop down from the counter and follow him into his room again. The hall dark and May’s room light is shut off, shes sound asleep and you would hate to wake her.

Peter digs through his drawer and holds out sweatpants and an old shirt for you to sleep in. he hands them to you for you to change and you now feel his tension and dont even want to go to the bathroom to change. You drop the suit right in front of him. He stares as you put on the shirt and pants. His face so red and his mouth wide as youve never been so bold to do that.

“Thank you, peter.” you tell him and right before you turn around he grabs your arm.

“Can i tell you something? Promise it wont change us.” his eyes scan your face. Your lips chapped but still look so soft and kissable.

“Anything.” you go soft again and he takes a deep breath. His hands are sweaty and his eyes close before he opens them again and speaks.

“I don't like MJ because i like you.” his voice in a whisper but you can still hear. Your eyes go wide and your body goes numb.

“Peter i-” you start and he shakes his head.

“Dont. i dont need to hear it. I've been rejected by girls almost my whole life and i-” what happens next is your move that takes him by surprise. Your hands rest on his face, his cheeks soft and warm, eyes careful as they look into yours. A soft kiss on his lips. One that doesn't even last five seconds on his lips as you are quick and nervous.

You both stare at each other, so close and both wanting to say something but nothing comes out.

His hands come to your face as well, grazing the cheeks and feeling how soft the skin is. He leans in for the second kiss, kissing so lightly and longer than before. His lips move on yours with more confidence and your hands go to his waist pulling him into you.

Right before anything else can happen, a soft knock on the door causes both of you to tense up.

“Peter?” Aunt May's soft, tired voice comes through the door. “Are you still awake? I thought i heard something.” she asks and Peter grows red again.

“Uh, yeah! Just getting into bed now!” he tells her in a more worried voice. Fearing that she’ll open up the door and see the two of you.

You let out a soft laugh as you rest your forehead on Peter's shoulder. Kissing the clothed area before lifting your head back up.

“Thank you, for everything.” you smile softly and he nods. He wants to kiss you one more time but he doesn't want to screw up what has just started.

“You should probably get some sleep.” he breathes out and you nod. He sets the bed up for you and as hes about to take pillows and throw them on the floor you grab his arm.

“We can make it work for two right?” you press your lips together and he gives a lopsided smile. He falls into the bed with you and pulls you into his side.

This was one of the nights where you came into his room that he would never forget.

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[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

Words: 3,473

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Like To Be You’ -by Shawn Mendes ft. Julia Michaels

Chapter Seventeen: Resolutions.

"So here's the plan," Mel whispered to Hermione as they followed Hagrid deeper into the forest, "if things get out of control, make sure everyone goes back safely and I obliviate them as soon as we reach the castle..."

"Don't be stupid," Hermione said. "Now's not the time for jokes. Oh, I really hope Hagrid knows what he's doing!"

"Gather roun', gather roun'," said Hagrid. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me..."

He let out a high-pitched shout and everyone stood there in anxious silence waiting to see what would happen. Mel's ears picked up the sound of dead leaves crunching, even though no one seemed to be moving. She heard a quiet huff and a few branches breaking.

"Why doesn't Hagrid call again?" Ron whispered beside her.

She felt someone press against her and she jumped lightly, Neville had found his way towards her and now was tightly gripping her arm. He was staring at some point a few feet away from them. That's when she remembered something from the first night back in the castle, when Harry had mentioned something about... what was it? A horse?

She turned to look at him, Harry was eagerly looking around, trying to see if someone else was noticing. Mel spoke up.

"What are they?" It had been a long time since she'd heard her own voice sounding so frightened.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Now... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

A total of three people raised their hands. Neville, Harry, and a Slytherin boy.

"Yeah... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid grumbled. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An' —"

"Excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?" Malfoy sneered.

Mel watched the meat Hagrid had thrown onto the grass as it was ripped off piece by piece by some invisible creature, Parvati gasped.

"What's doing it? What's eating it?" She asked in terror.

"Thestrals," said Hagrid. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows — ?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" Parvati exclaimed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once —"

"No, no, no! Tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! 'Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate — an' here's another couple, look —"

Parvati yelped. "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," Hagrid smiled. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?" Hermione raised a hand. "Go on then."

"The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death."

Mel should've known that a creature with such fame had to be related to death. Still, far from scared, Mel was intrigued, she knew what it would take to be able to see them, and yet, part of her wished she could.

"Tha's exactly right. Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals —"

"Hem, hem." An unpleasant tension settled on Mel's shoulders. Umbridge had arrived. "Hem, hem."

"Oh hello!" Hagrid beamed.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning? Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

Mel didn't like the way Umbridge talked to him, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath.

"Oh yeah! Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno — can you? We're doin' thestrals today —"

"I'm sorry?" Umbridge dramatically leaned forward and put a hand on her ear. "What did you say?"

Mel gripped the hand that Neville kept firmly around her forearm.

"Er — thestrals!" Hagrid repeated loudly. "Big — er — winged horses, yeh know!"

Hagrid flapped his arms as if they were wings, Umbridge quickly started to write that down.

"'has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language...'"

"Well... anyway..." said Hagrid, blushing a little. "Erm... what was I sayin'?"

"'Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory...'"

She hadn't been so rude to any of the other teachers and Mel was wondering exactly why was she giving Hagrid such a terrible time when it came to her. Of course, she hated Hagrid, at this point everyone knew he was a half-giant and Umbridge was the biggest piece of racist rubbish she'd ever met, she wanted to get rid of him.

"Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk" She pretended to walk. "among the students... and ask them questions."

"Neville," Mel whispered. "I need you to let go of my arm."

"Why?"

"Because if I blow up, I don't want to get you in trouble," She growled.

"Do you find that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?" Umbridge asked out loud to Pansy.

"No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time..." Pansy was shaking with silent laughter.

"Don't do it, Mel!" Neville warned her. "If you get in trouble you won't be able to attend the D.A. this week!"

"Er... yeah... good stuff abou' thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' senses o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go —"

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy.

Mel made a movement to reach for her wand and Neville gripped her arm with unexpected strength. That caught Umbridge attention, she walked up to them with a smile.

"You can see the thestrals, Longbottom, can you? Whom did you see die?"

"That's a personal question," Mel replied. "I don't think Neville has to answer that if he doesn't want to."

Umbridge raised a brow with disinterest.

"You can't see them, Miss Dumbledore, am I correct? Well, at least that's one mental detriment we don't have to worry about in you..."

"Excuse m—" Mel started, but Neville was quick to step in.

"My grandad," He retorted. "That's whom I saw..."

"And what do you think of them?" Umbridge acted like her insult to Mel hadn't happened.

"Erm," Neville glanced between Mel and Hagrid. "Well, they're... er... okay..."

"'Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened...'" muttered Umbridge, scribbling it down furiously.

"No!" Neville frowned. "No, I'm not scared of them — !"

"It's quite all right," Umbridge patted Neville's shoulder and Mel glared at the woman wishing she could do something. "Well, Hagrid, I think I've got enough to be getting along with... You will receive... the results of your inspection... in ten days' time."

She lifted all her fingers, smiling in that cold way of hers.

"I'm sorry," Neville mumbled next to her. "I didn't want to..."

"It wasn't your fault," Mel said roughly. Neville flinched, and she immediately softened her tone, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze a little. "You did nothing wrong, Nev."

"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle! You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again — she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother — and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all — I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but thestrals are fine — in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!" Hermione rambled as they made their way back to the castle.

"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron.

"What does that bitter fat rat knows about magical creatures?" Mel spat. "I'm with Hagrid here, those are all superstitions..."

"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," Hermione nodded in agreement, "and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."

"Do you?" Harry asked carefully.

Hermione winced.

"Oh Harry — I'm sorry — no, of course I don't — that was a really stupid thing to say —"

"It's okay, don't worry..."

"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron. "Three in a class —"

"Neville was extremely sweet, helping Hagrid out and trying to keep me away from detention," Mel lowered her gaze, her fists tightly closed. "I'm so sick of that woman..."

"Weasley, we were just wondering," Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were walking up to them. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"

"That's rich coming from you,  you puny ferret— Did the beating Harry and George gave you whipped the memories of your lack of skill?"

Malfoy's smile faltered a bit, but it didn't vanish.

"Moody, are we?" He said. "I'd be too if I were losing my marbles..."

Ron made an attempt to move but Hermione and Harry held him back. Mel glared at the Slytherins as they walked past them.

"One day," She said through gritted teeth. "One day I'll get him... and Umbridge too."

"Peeves, this is my last warning!" Mel warned as the poltergeist attempted to strangle Ron with tinsel. "Go away or I'll make a fanged frisbee follow you for the rest of the year!"

Peeves stuck out his tongue but flew out of the Great Hall anyway. She was helping with the Christmas decorations, Flitwick had asked the prefects to lend a hand and so Ron and Hermione had been expected as well as Erick, though he had to keep his distance. Mel noticed he was more tired and jumpy than usual.

"You know, I have to admit it," Hermione said as she handed a few fairy lights to her. "I was worried about you dating Fred— Thought you'd get out of control, but you're getting better!"

"What do you mean?"

"She means you don't fight people as much as you used to," Ron replied bluntly. "By people, she means Harry."

"Yeah well, we don't talk at all," Mel shrugged. "Can we not discuss this? I don't feel comfortable discussing my love life..."

"I don't love talking about you snogging one of my brothers either," Ron scoffed. "Can't say I hadn't seen this coming though, I knew this would happen, Fred and George always flirt with you..."

"They flirt with everyone," She clarified. "They even tried to flirt his way out of detention with McGonagall once."

"That was different," Ron rolled his eyes. "They were joking then, with you it was clearly intentional."

"Clear, was it?" Mel snorted. "How come you're suddenly an expert?"

"I've always been good at it when it comes to you and my brothers," He replied matter-of-factly. "You were really obvious."

"You want to talk about obvious?" She glanced at Hermione to make sure she was distracted. "You really want to go there, Ronnie? I can list all the times you've been obvious..."

Ron's eyes widened.

"Either way," He quickly changed the subject. "Hermione's right. You're in a better mood now, and if dating my brother does that to you, then I have no problem with it."

"How kind of you," The girl replied distractedly

"You and I," Ginny sat down in front of her. "We're trying for the Quidditch team."

Mel choked on her pumpkin juice.

"What gave you that idea?"

"You have pent-up anger and being able to push someone out of their broom might help," Ginny smirked.

Mel lowered the book she'd been reading and thought about it. Hadn't she dreamed about trying out for the team a year prior? Well, yeah, but only because Harry said she could be a great addition. It didn't mean she was good... but it didn't hurt to try, though.

"Dunno, Ginny," She bit her lip. "I have so much to do already..."

"C'mon!" The girl insisted. "How many times have we stayed up till late talking about it? I know it's not exactly how we planned it, but we can't give away our chance!"

Hadn't she said she would find a way to get back at Malfoy and Umbridge? This was her chance, she could drag Malfoy's butt on the field.

"Oh, all right," Mel groaned. "But not a word of this to anyone! I don't want more people breathing on my neck, I have enough with them waiting to catch me and Fred snogging in the halls!"

"It's kind of weird how you never kiss," Ginny mentioned, a little giggle escaping her lips. "Never thought Fred wasn't into public displays of affection..."

"Oh, he is," Mel raised a brow. "But I refuse to give a show."

Most people were rendered speechless with Ginny's display, she had a natural talent. When it was her turn, Angelina asked what place she wanted.

"Er..." Mel shrugged. "I guess beater would be okay?"

"Really?" Angelina frowned. "You and Ginny are small and not too strong... the both of you are great options to be seekers."

"I suppose that's true," Mel looked back at her friend, who was watching from the stands. "Well, if you take both of us we can take turns to be seekers and beaters."

She'd meant that as a joke, but Angelina's eyes shone with excitement.

"You're right I could. You don't need to be all muscle to be a beater, you just need to have a decent aim... Okay, Mel, show me what you got and I might consider your idea."

First, she tried her skills as seeker and released the snitch at the other side of the field, throwing golf balls to distract her and see if she'd lose sight of the golden orb, but it was hard to miss its glint between a bunch of white dirty balls. She did this a total of four times. Nothing too impressive, two times the snitch was close to escaping, but she put up a good fight.

Then she was placed in the beater position, she was a bit clumsier with the bat and she didn't have the deathly aim George and Fred had, but she figured she could develop a decent one with time. It was up to Angelina though, Mel could only hope she hadn't looked like a complete idiot.

"Okay, gather round!" Angelina called after a few minutes.

Ginny and Mel stood side by side, holding hands and squeezing.

"Thank you all for coming," Angelina continued. "I've made a decision. It's my duty to choose those that did it best..."

Mel held her breath, already thinking about how the twins were going to tease her once they'd found out she'd been rejected.

"WE MADE IT!" Ginny was jumping around happily.

Mel was elated, she laughed loudly and let her friend do all the noise. She still couldn't believe she wasn't dreaming, she was part of the Quidditch team!

Officially, Ginny had the Seeker spot and Mel was beater along with Jack Sloper, but Ginny promised to take turns even if Mel had insisted on letting her take the spot completely.

"It's better this way," Ginny discussed. "If we practice in both, we'll be brilliant in more than one way!"

Mel was still flushed red and sweaty when she walked into the castle, she couldn't wait to find the twins and tell them the news...

"I'll go grab us something to eat on our the way to the D.A. meeting, keep going!" Ginny turned around and rushed to the Great Hall.

Mel kept walking, an easy-going smile on her face as she replayed the events of that morning, she felt herself floating, happier than she'd felt in weeks. Things were starting to get better, she was popular, and now she was part of the team, what else could she—

"Erick?" She watched as the boy appeared around the corner, his eyes glued to the parchment on his hands. "Erick, you won't guess what just happened!"

Forgetting all about discretion, Mel ran up to him ready to talk about the tryouts. Then, as she got closer, she noticed his face was strangely pale, and he was shaking.

"What's wrong?"

The boy looked up to her but his eyes were lacking their usual presence. His gaze was absent, when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. Erick cleared his throat and tried again.

"I... I just got this," He said. "During lunch... I went to the owlery to send a letter to Joseph... though probably my parents sent a letter to my aunt as well..."

"What is it?" She insisted.

Erick blinked furiously, and it was then she realized he was trying not to cry.

"I... I have to..." He cleared his throat again and shook his head. "My grandad, he..."

"I'm sorry," She said, skimming through the contents of the letter in shock. "I don't know what to say..."

"Mel!" Ginny appeared again, holding two sandwiches. "There you are! C'mon, we need to hurry!"

Mel gave a start, but Ginny didn't seem to notice Erick as she ran up to her and caught her arm, dragging her away from the boy. Mel barely had time to return the letter before Ginny pulled harder.

"What are you doing? Hurry, the meeting starts in five minutes!"

Mel was going to protest and go back to the boy, she looked over her shoulder to call his name and realized he was gone, she didn't know how he'd managed to disappear so quickly. She let Ginny take her away, thinking that tomorrow she would hopefully have the right words to comfort him.

When they arrived at the room of requirement Mel had finished eating even though it all had tasted like cardboard. She was no longer excited for her new position as a beater, and she wanted nothing but to end the meeting so she could go and look for her friend. He needed her.

"Okay," Harry started. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break. What d'you think, Mel?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, desperately trying to remember what the hell Harry'd been saying. "Yeah, that's fine..." She replied absently, Harry stared at her with a small frown.

"We're not doing anything new?" Zacharias Smith asked in annoyance. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come..."

"We're all really sorry Harry and Mel didn't tell you, then," said Fred.

"We can practice in pairs," Harry continued, realizing Mel wasn't going to be helpful that night. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

While the group divided into pairs, Harry pulled her away from the crowd discretely.

"Mel," He repeated, his tone urgent. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," She blinked. "I just... I ran into Erick a few minutes ago..."

"Did he upset you?" Harry scowled. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her. "He got a letter this morning... his Grandad... I just need a moment, I'll be fine."

"...You can leave if you want."

"They need me here."

"You need a break."

"Look who's talking," Mel said defensively. "Why do you care, anyway? You've been ignoring me for weeks, please continue."

Harry stepped back taken by her sudden outburst.

"Fine," He eyed her up, then added carefully, "...I heard you got a place on the team. That's excellent."

"Yeah," She said shortly. "I'm a Beater, like my mum."

"Angelina said you and Ginny were taking turns to be seekers. You'll be wonderful, I'm sure."

He was trying to be polite, he could see she was in distress and wanted to distract her, even if she was doing all in her power to upset him. Harry had to stop a groan from falling out of his lips, he had no idea of how to talk to her now, it was as if they no longer knew each other.

"You know," The boy continued over her silence, not knowing why he was trying so hard to cheer her up. "They've come a long way, haven't they? I think we're making a difference, even if it didn't look like it at first..."

Her eyes landed on Neville as he successfully managed to freeze Ron in place for a second time. She thought back on the little shy thing he used to be, and how confident he looked then. A small glimmer of optimism peeked through Mel's sense of hopelessness, and somehow, Harry felt it too.

"Yeah..." She smiled lightly. "I think you may be right..."

Next Chapter —>

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[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life (Kakyoin x Reader) Chapter 14

Finally in Egypt. Dio was so close you could taste him. And since almost all of the Tarot cards had been used up, you should be pretty much done. Right? Right?

“I told you!” you boasted as you all sped through the desert sand in the dune buggy Joseph rented. “I told you we were gonna be attacked by a Stand!”

“We just had a near-death experience,” Joseph groaned, “and you want to brag about it?”

“I’m bragging because I was right,” you told him. “I knew that the submarine was a great place to get us cornered.”

“She has a point,” Avdol added. “She predicted what we didn’t.”

“Well, enough about that now,” Joseph said, trying to change the subject, “we’re actually meeting some Speedwagon guys just up ahead. They’ll arrive in a helicopter.”

“Really?” Kakyoin asked. “After we just wrecked their submarine?”

“They understand that some things may be damaged while we fight off constant Stand attacks,” Joseph explained. “Plus, this time, they’re bringing someone who’ll assist us.”

“Assist us?” Jotaro, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke up. “You mean, another Stand user?”

“Precisely,” Joseph said. “But we’ll have to be careful. He has some... personality issues.”

Some time had passed, and everyone had gotten out of the buggy and met the Speedwagon guys in the helicopter.

“Iggy’s in the back,” one of them pointed to the rear door of the helicopter. “But be cautious. The ride here was really rough, so he’s already in a bad mood.”

“Well, where is he?” Polnareff asked, rummaging through the back. “Come on, show yourself!”

“Polnareff, be careful,” Joseph warned. “One of Iggy’s favorite things to do is-“

Just then, a tiny dog jumped out from the blanket on the seat and started attacking Polnareff.

“...chew people’s hair,” Joseph finished.

Iggy... Iggy was a dog? “How does such a tiny little thing have a Stand?” you accidentally thought out loud.

“You’d be surprised,” Joseph replied, then went to talk in private with the two Speedwagon members.

“Iggy!” Avdol prompted, holding up some gum. “I’ve got a treat for you!” Of course, Iggy came sprinting towards the smell of whatever flavor that gum was. You looked at the package, and saw it was coffee flavored.

“Coffee flavored gum,” you muttered. “What a weird dog.”

Still, weird or not, that fur on Iggy’s back was begging to be scratched, and you couldn’t just say no. While the tiny dog was distracted with his chewy snack, you sunk your hands into his back and started to pet it. He jumped a little bit at first, but quickly let you keep going. You decided to use different types of pets, too. You softly stroked him from his head to his rear, used your nails to delicately scratch his skin, and massaged slowly with your fingers. It wasn’t long before Iggy rolled over to let you rub his belly.

“Oh, yes, you’re a good boy,” you cooed. “A good boy with a Stand, that’s all.”

“You’ve already bonded with the dog,” Kakyoin chuckled.

“I have a soft spot in my heart for animals,” you said, still rubbing Iggy’s belly. “It can’t be helped.”

Kakyoin gave a small “hm,” as he started to sit down next to you in the sand. Both of you sat silently next to each other for a minute or two, until you let Iggy go, and watched him run back to chase Polnareff.

“Iggy really doesn’t like him, huh?” you giggled.

“Yeah,” Kakyoin said, almost deadpan. “You know, I overheard from Mr. Joestar’s conversation that there’s more Stand users headed our way. These guys have Stands named after Egyptian gods, and will be much more powerful.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” you replied. “Good thing we know they’re headed our way.”

“That’s not the point,” Kakyoin interjected. “The thing is, well, your Stand... will you be alright? I won’t be mad if you leave now. Don’t get me wrong, Ace of Pentacles is plenty strong, but not... fighting wise. I mean, um,”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” you laughed. “And no, I won’t be leaving. I just have to stay out of trouble, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Kakyoin sighed. “I just don’t want you getting in any unnecessary danger.”

“Isn’t this whole trip just one big case of unnecessary danger?” You were only half joking, though.

“Hey, you two!” Joseph yelled from the buggy. “We’re leaving!”

“Coming!” Kakyoin yelled back. Both of you ran back, and entered the back of the buggy. However, Kakyoin was promptly forced out by a growling Iggy. The dog looked at you, and crawled into your lap, immediately rolling over to expose his stomach. Looks like your ticket to an actual seat would come with a price. And you knew from then on Iggy would know you as “The girl who pets me.”

“It just isn’t fair!” Polnareff pouted. “Why do (Y/N) and the dumb mutt get the full backseat to themselves while we have to be cramped in the trunk?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault he warmed up to me,” you grunted.

“Technically, it is,” Jotaro countered. “You decided to pet him, and so now he loves you. Dogs will love anyone who shows them affection.”

“Okay, maybe it is my fault,” you argued, “but I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Stop bickering back there!” Joseph said from the front. “When we reach a stopping place, we’ll throw some gum in the trunk, and you guys can move to the seats.”

“Fine,” Polnareff grumbled.

For a good while, the only sounds were the rumble of the car and Iggy’s happy grunts. But that nice silence quickly came to a stop as Joseph slammed on the breaks, sending the boys in the trunk flying forward.

“Hey, what gives?!” Polnareff exclaimed.

“Sorry about that,” Joseph replied, “but we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands.”

It didn’t take long for you to notice the helicopter that had delivered Iggy to you. Once the car was stopped, everyone ran out to look at the rubble from the wreck, and see if it was just mechanical failure, or if their new enemy Stand user had already arrived.

“Look at those scratch marks,” Jotaro pointed to the hull of the copter, where beast-like marks were clawed throughout. Subconsciously, your eyes moved down to the man who was right under the helicopter, and you immediately had to look away. That didn’t stop the horrifying image from burning itself into your mind, though. The man’s fingernails were bent unnaturally upward, and his mouth was filled to the brim with water. On top of that, he had a distorted look on his face, similar to the man in the fog town with Enyaba. The whole thing made you want to puke.

“Everyone, I found the second guy over here!” Kakyoin shouted. “He’s still alive!”

Sure enough, when you ran over, the second man was very much alive, but he was so dehydrated, he looked like a raisin.

“W...wa...ter...” was all the man could rasp out.

“Water! Of course! He needs water!” Kakyoin muttered. He quickly found a canteen that still felt somewhat full, and started to slowly dip it down for the pruned man. “Drink slowly,” he ordered.

“N-no! The water!” The Speedwagon Foundation worker suddenly gained the ability to make full sentences. “The water’s going to attack!”

Without warning, the water from the canteen shot forward in the shape of a hand, grabbed the man’s head, and ripped it off, sucking it into the canister from where it came. Nobody wasted any time getting out of the way, and hiding in the sand. Polnareff and Kakyoin were opposite to you, Jotaro, Joseph, and Avdol. And from what you saw, they seemed to be arguing, pointing over to the canteen from time to time.

“(Y/N),” Joseph looked over at you, his eyes barely over his hat, “I’ve gotten word from the Speedwagon Foundation that there are more, stronger Stand users who’ll be attacking us. For your own safety, I suggest leaving now, before you get caught in a situation that you can’t save yourself from.”

“Mr. Joestar,” a smile curled up from your mouth, “I appreciate your concern, but I can fend for myself if that happens. You’ve seen how Ace of Pentacles has gotten us out of tricky situations before. I can always do the same thing to myself.”

“She’s right,” Avdol replied. “Plus, she’s vital to the team. If she wasn’t here, we’d spend way too much money on first aid.”

“Hey,” Jotaro pointed over to Kakyoin and Polnareff. “What’s that thing in between them?”

It looked like a hand with very sharp fingernails, from what you could see. But it was clear...

No. But how? The Stand was in the canteen! When did it escape?

Before you could process what was going on, the water hand swiped at Kakyoin’s eyes, and he instantly fell to the ground.

“Kakyoin!” Polnareff shouted. “It... it got his eyes!”

“Kakyoin!” you screamed. You got up from your hiding spot to run over, but quickly felt a force pulling you back. You looked behind you, and Star Platinum was holding your shirt. Still, you clawed at the loose sand, hoping to make some sort of progress, but no prevail.

“Good grief, (Y/N),” Jotaro sighed. “We don’t even know what this Stand can do. Making sudden movements probably isn’t the best idea.”

Sure enough, right in front of you, the enemy’s Stand had appeared from underneath the Earth. After seeing what it had done to both the Speedwagon worker and Kakyoin, having it right in front of you made a wave of fear roll over your entire body. Was this it? We’re you going to die right here, before you could even save Kakyoin?

Before you knew it, though, the hand dashed over to a beeping sound coming from the Speedwagon member’s watch and swiped off his arm. Of course, that didn’t really matter, since he was already beheaded. But it gave you some insight to what really triggered the Stand’s movements.

“Sound!” Everyone turned to face you. “The Stand navigates by sound! That being said, nobody move!”

However, even with everyone staying completely still, the blood from Kakyoin’s eyes dripped to the floor. It didn’t take long for the water to hear it, and it shot back towards Polnareff.

“Okay, screw the staying still,” Joseph ordered, “everyone to the buggy!”

Of course, the crew obeyed, Polnareff carrying Kakyoin in his arms. Joseph and Jotaro, aided by their Joestar genes, made it first, followed by Avdol, you, and Polnareff, who quickly laid Kakyoin on the roof of the buggy.

“Fix him!” he demanded. “You have to fix him!”

“I’m doing it right now, geez!” you replied, having already summoned Ace of Pentacles.

“Yeah, well, do it faster!”

“If I don’t get this eye anatomy right, Kakyoin’s eyes will be deformed for the rest of his life!” You started to get uncharacteristically snappy. “Now, shut up and let me do this correctly!”

Of course, you couldn’t get into a full-blown argument right now. After all, if your full concentration wasn’t on Kakyoin, his eyes would never be the same. It’s a good thing you decided to take anatomy classes, because they were sure coming in handy.

“Alright, he’s fixed!” You started beaming with joy. “Now we just need to keep him away from danger until he wakes up.”

“Why isn’t he awake now?” Polnareff whined.

“Because, Polnareff,” you growled, driving every ounce of anger out of your body, “since my Stand isn’t instantly healing someone, rather just making extensions of other cells in their body to heal them, the pain from the injury is still there. Also, don’t you think I care about Kakyoin the most? I’m so close to him, he’s dating me! You’re lucky Ace doesn’t have any fighting abilities, or you’d be sent back to the sand, where Water Boy can rip your face straight off of that head with more hair follicles than brain cells! Because it seems like you’d rather me heal Kakyoin quickly, rather than heal him correctly!” After the rant was over, you started breathing hard, trying to calm yourself down.

“You done yet?” Jotaro asked.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you said.

Suddenly, the buggy's wheels sinking into the sand, which had been turned into mud. There was only one thing that could’ve happened. Water Claw was on the attack again. Before you knew it, the buggy had been flipped almost completely around, and everyone fell back down to the Earth, at the enemy’s mercy.

“Well, what do we do now?” Polnareff asked, not moving an inch.

“I guess this is the time to stay completely still,” Joseph answered. “Other than that, pray our souls will be saved.”

“Wait!” Avdol exclaimed. “I have an idea.” He started throwing his bracelet rings, one by one, in a footstep pattern. He was trying to trick the user!

And luckily, it seemed to work. Water started to rise where the last ring was thrown. But as Avdol summoned Magician’s Red, the water diverted its path to attack Avdol instead, leaving him with a huge gash in his neck.

“Avdol!” You wanted to rush over there, but you knew that was suicide. “I’ll heal you as soon as possible, I promise! Just hang in there!”

Of course, as soon as you finished your sentence, the water started to form right around where Avdol was laying. That meant Aqua Hand wasn’t done yet. You wanted so desperately to make it before it was too late, but any movement and you’d be the target instead of Avdol. However, it looked like Jotaro had given you an opportunity to heal the man, as he jumped from his spot and started running, and, luckily, the Stand chased after him.

Quickly, you scrambled over to Avdol, and summoned Ace of Pentacles. As skin is a lot less complicated than eyes (and a lot less delicate), you were able to fix him in ten seconds flat. And, since he hadn’t fully passed out, he woke up immediately.

“That’s the second time you’ve saved my life,” Avdol said, his voice straining a bit.

“Stay still,” you soothed. “Your body’s still feeling the pain from the attack.”

“Guys!” Polnareff shouted. “Guys! Kakyoin’s waking up!”

Nobody wasted any time getting close to the boy’s side, especially you. And, as Polnareff said, his eyes were slowly opening, and his throat was groaning. He had started to get himself to sit up, until you helped the rest of the way and kissed him on the lips.

“What a way to wake up,” he chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “And I see you’ve already healed my eyes.”

You gave a soft “mmmm-hmmm,” before you stuffed your face into his shirt. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m okay thanks to you,” Kakyoin said while he put an arm around your back.

“Okay, you two,” Joseph pried you off of Kakyoin’s grip, and helped both of you up, “let’s go see how Jotaro and Iggy are doing.”

All of you had gotten in the buggy, and had started going the direction Jotaro had. It didn’t take long to find them, though, with a figure laying in the sand beside them. Looks like they found the user. Joseph stopped for a moment to let the two on, and started going again.

“So, he could navigate with sound?” Kakyoin asked.

“He was blind, so he must’ve become an expert at listening for his life,” Jotaro answered. “But we were able to get close enough to beat him before anything else bad happened.”

“(Y/N),” Polnareff said, not meeting eyes with you, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you responded. “I don’t think you have more hair follicles than brain cells.” After your true apology, you added, in a hushed tone, “They’re at least equal.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

And finally, after seemingly an hour, you had arrived in the city where your hotel would be for the night. With all that had happened, when you fell into your bed, you almost went right to sleep.

That is, until you heard the door open.

“Iggy needs somewhere to sleep tonight,” Joseph explained, “And you’ve gotten along with him the best.” Then he closed the door, and you felt a small creature jump up into the bed with you, and curl its body close to yours.

“Goodnight, Iggy,” you whispered. This time, you truly drifted off to sleep, feeling like every single worry had left your mind.

Except for Dio. The threat of Dio would be constantly looming over your shoulder, especially now that you were in Egypt. But other than that, every care went away, as you slowly slipped into unconsciousness. You were finally here. Egypt.

Dio stood no chance against your team.

[mouser26]

Jazz

This story has been a work in progress since....shit I wanna say August 28th or so (no idea why I remeber the date that exactly) It started as something I thought I’d just bang out real fast cause my brain refused to work on anything else and now here we are 6mos (only 4 pages) later and I am posting it. This story references and retcons certain events from some seriously old works of mine Meet the Family and Grandfather Fuu I’ve never really done a story directly from Jazz’s perspective despite creating him in 2008-9ish and revamping his design in 2016.

Enjoy

Jazz could have been the best spy.

He had no family to answer to with a growing career as a singer and dancer in touring stage productions. According to his recruiter he had the potential to be a classic honeypot, however his natural charm and friendly nature resulted in many secrets being spilled as though he were a lifelong friend without the need for sexual seduction.

He might never have been one of the fabled Purples but he had the potential to be White. Jazz was on the rise even as he remained unknown behind clandestine meetings and worldwide tours.

Then there had been The Benefit.

It would be years before he would be able to put his finger on what exactly it was that made him notice the man lingering on the edges of the party.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about him at a glance; average height,  blonde, blue eyes behind wire frames, he was even appropriately dressed in a proper tuxedo, he fit right in. And he was cute to boot.

There was just something, more to him.

Which was precisely why he had sidled up to the other with a smile he had been told was charming,

"James Coltrain, but behind the curtain they call me Jazz, cause my hands are dazzling."

The man’s attempts to muffle his laughter turned it to a snort, "Does that ever work?"

"Dunno did it?"

It in fact did.

His name was Bastian.

Their romance was a whirlwind in all but time.

There was the usual dinners and dances with kisses on the doorstep, dates that warmed him and had a taste of normalcy to them.

Then there were the more avante-guard outings; bungee jumping, rock climbing, and other adrenaline pumping activities

Jazz had been shocked and a little turned on at how effectively the blonde had dispatched the opposing team when they had gone to laser tag.

He had considered it an unexpected blessing that his boyfriend was so understanding about his hectic touring schedule and the rare times he had to cancel a date for a mission, though he never gave that reason of course.

In retrospect perhaps he should have seen a red flag in the fact Bastian never invited him to meet his family before. Jumping out of the plane he had known his lover had two younger brothers and an equal number of sisters, that his parents were still alive and he had an extended family that could take ages to explain. He had known that Bastian was something of the black sheep having opted against joining the family business wanting to start his own instead.

It wasn’t until their feet were back on the ground, engagement ring on the blonde’s finger, and he found himself looking down into the annoyed face of Agent Magenta, that his brain scrambled to re-evaluate everything he thought he knew about his lover.

"Hello Albine or is it Jazz now?"

Shamefully his shock gave Magenta the time needed to punch him in the nose.

He had been honestly relieved to see Bastian charge angrily into the room holding a cake.  If this had been some kind of long op Bastian would have been pleased with his shock, instead he looked ready to punch him  himself.

"Yer Bom ‘s Magenta?!"

“You work for White?!”

Before he could come up with any sort of response to that he found himself covered in cake to go with the blood from his nose as his fiancee shouted at him.  Then the tears had come and that was what spurned him back into movement kneeling to put a hand on his shoulder not daring a hug just now.

“You lied to me.”

“You never really told me about your family.”

"Children," Jazz looked up to face the battle scarred mountain that was Bastian’s father, "Yer both kept mum 'cause it's need ter know infermashun, anna ovver one dinnet need ter know.  Now yer know.  So let's kiss, make up, an enjoy dis lass, lazagg-"

"Lasagna, dear," Magenta corrected out of habit still glaring at him.

"What she said. An' now dat yer each know a bit more, yer c'n safely put yer cards onna table."

"And I’ll start,” the gun-loving woman announced meeting Jazz’s eyes, “You break my son’s heart any further and I beak your neck."

Jazz nearly dismissed the threat having expected it as he finally placed the man in the frilly purple apron with the countless veterans he had been warned about, “Your Dad’s Cassius?!”

“Do you know anyone else that could handle my mother?”

Meeting the parents had been an enlightening disaster but an easily survived one,

Meeting Bastian’s Godfathers on the other hand had been a crucible of sorts.

Puce, or Uncle Fuu as he fiancee insisted on introducing the older agent, did not seem to like him at all.  For all that Bastian insisted nothing was wrong Jazz could not help but feel like he was being mentally filleted every time the attention was on him. It wasn’t anything he had done or said as far as he knew, he was simply not family.

Deep green eyes smoldered with the fires of anger, the flames of indignation. Every time Puce looked in his direction, Jazz felt the temperature of his face rise.

He had heard of Spectre of course though in never the same mythical tones as the other Agents, it was still near impossible to resolve the stories he’s heard of Uncle Silas with the tired assassin that has greeted him simply with, “So you’re the boyfriend.”

He was weighed, measured, and, he was sure, found wanting, but he had held his ground. Terrifying as this family was proving to be he loved Bastian and they would have to actually put him six feet under before he’d give the other man up.

It was actually Silas that gave him hope through that particular meal. Here was an agent who had somehow made it into the family while still wearing his own colors. More than that he was an older agent completely at ease with the human tiger he called his lover.

He wanted his own version of that.

With everything out and on the table he and Bastian had finally been able to really talk about the future.

They were both stubborn mules so talking had turned to yelling, then to crying, before coming back to talking. They discussed their jobs, their expectations, whether or not they wanted kids some day, everything they had discussed before and surprisingly little had changed.  The anger for each had been about the ability to keep secrets and lie to the other, something they could both agree to never do again.

Really the only thing they had needed to properly discuss was their upcoming nuptials

The Wedding took place in New Orleans during Mardi Gras for the safety of all.  Though Jazz was certain they wouldn’t have changed a thing even if their guests had been all civilians.   The only official thing about the whole affair was the officiant themselves. The ceremony was held in front of a bar in the French quarter, their cake was a king’s cake from the first place to have one in stock, it was no real surprise that Uncle Adrian had found the trinket therein. Things had gotten a bit hazy after some hours, he was fairly convinced their Ojen had been switched for something far stronger and less legal. He really wasn’t sure when the picture of himself and his handsome new husband wearing their Mardi Gra themed wedding vests kissing in a fountain was taken but he had it framed and hung in their new home when they returned.

That had been years ago.

He hadn’t regretted a day since.

It was something to think about as he walked the house with his teething son, trying every trick he could think of in hopes they might both get some sleep before he left for an early morning flight  on a new mission.

Or when Uncle Fuu had shown up, taken the fussing infant and told him in that same unshakable tone to get some sleep, that he would see to Silas.

Jazz was still a spy and still a damn good one.

But he would never be the best now.

He had people that mattered now, he mattered now.

It was a thought that made him smile as his head hit the pillow.

[philtstone]

The Musketeers Star Wars AU

1. There is a Jedi Order that remains as strict, with Councilmembers as strong-headed.

Master Treville has hard edgesand a barking voice to hide his soft forgiving heart. By forty he’s picked upthree strays, and only one is technically his apprentice, because that is whatthe council allows, but the other two tag along everywhere anyway.

“You’re sitting on my robe,” saysAthos, monotone, and Porthos says, “It’s your own fault for wearing robes allthe time, anyway. What’s wrong with just your tunic?” The firelight is warm anddancing where the group of them sit gathered, on a short mission to Utapau thatis mundane enough that Treville is relaxed; his only stressors are Aramis’scampfire singing and the prospect of returning to Coruscant and dealing withArmand Richeliu’s ridiculous goatie.

“He thinks it makes him look moreJedi-ly,” Aramis informs the group, blessedly pausing in his humming. Porthoslaughs; Athos scowls.

“Nothing is wrong with tunics,”he says. “I’m just cold.”

There is the faint sound ofshuffling amidst the boys’ laughter, as both Aramis and Porthos move to drapetheir cloaks over Athos. Pretending to be asleep, Treville smiles withoutmoving his mouth; he tells the Council that the padawans learn better as a triothan on their own, and this is accepted.

2. There is a farmboy fromTatooine whose parents are dead, but this one is not destined for tragedy.

“The Force,” Aramis has decided,“likes to damn Athos specifically.”

Athos thinks sometimes he must bea terrible Jedi for all that he does not believe in the more mystical side ofthe Force. For Aramis, it comes naturally. Porthos is unbothered by it eitherway, which Athos wishes he could emulate.

But anyway: the Farmboy. AndAthos’s damnation.

Sometimes he thinks it’s becauseMaster Treville never tells him anything. Usually, he blames Aramis and Porthos.

This time, the tow-headed farmboywho’s made it to the Jedi Temple all the way from Tatooine and is determinedlytrying to kill him cannot be blamed on any of the above categories.

He’s still not sure where the blamegoes a whole two days later, after the mess with Chancellor Richelieu’s corruptguards and Athos nearly being kicked out of the Order, standing in front ofMaster Treville. The boy is hovering behind him and putting on a ferventdisplay of his stubborn jaw and determinedly splayed legs.

“He is,” says Athos, taking adeep breath, briefly closing his eyes, and becoming fully cognizant of the factthat his voice is coming out quite agonized, “uncannily strong in the Force,Master.”

Treville says nothing.

“And he saved my life,” Athosadds belated, reluctant.

Treville says nothing.

“I’m ready,” says Athos finally.“For an apprentice of my own.”

Treville’s moustache bristles.

The Council is going to be verydispleased. Richelieu is going to meddle. Aramis and Porthos will probably findit all hilarious.

They take d’Artagnan in anyway.

3. There is a Queen from Naboo,and she needs a girl-guard by her side.

She does not have one quite yet,but the young woman managing the Temple clothing dispensary has all the makingsof one to come. Constance is not guard nor apprentice to anyone, but the boyskeep telling her she’d make a brilliant one.

She swats them, mostly, andwishes she could take their words and make them real. Instead she remainsdutifully married, and visits the dispensary whenever she’s needed, and hopesshe is not too eager in her blossoming friendship with Athos’s newly-mintedpadawan, d’Artagnan. Jedi are not allowed romance, anyway, so that’s the bothof them accounted for. Even if he did kiss her once, when he first showed up inCorusant, and he’s kind and bright and warm and makes her blood thrum with thethought of a nebulous something every time she’s fitting him for new boots.

She wonders if it’s d’Artagnan oradventure she craves more. It bothers her that she can’t figure it out, soConstance hands out robes and tunics and boots as she’s needed, and tries to becontent with the warmth of her friends.

And then there’s a fugitive to besquirreled away, and a baby is kidnapped, and a young girl is killed in theCoruscanti airways, trying to deliver a message to the visiting Queen of Naboo.Constance is involved – because she can’t stand to see people hurt, because hefriends are incorrigible, because she knows it will bother her husband (itdoes).

At the end of a year, she’spretty damn good with a blaster, and she wants to say she doesn’t feeld’Artagnan’s fingers lingering around her waist.

And then she’s summoned to theSenate chambers, her husband in tow.

“I’ve a need for a confidant,”says the young woman with the painted face, who is smiling at her moregenuinely than Constance knew queens could smile. “And a body-guard. And youcome highly esteemed and recommended, you see.”

Behind the Queen, Constancethinks she sees d’Artagnan flush. Aramis and Porthos are beaming; Athosknowing. Are they assigned to the Queen, Constance wonders? And for what? Herhusband makes a spluttering noise from behind her, something about meddlesomeJedi.

She has barely the time to thankthe Force for just those before her mouth opens and she is breathlesslyaccepting. The Queen’s smile dimples, and Constance nearly grins.

4. There is an attemptedassassination, and a coup, and a Knight and a Queen, and a not-so-secret baby.  

In this universe, these allhappen in swift succession. Athos claims this ages him prematurely.

They do not keep her safe inVarykino, nor Tatooine, but in a small Nubian convent off the side of thebeautiful country lake. Constance, now husband-less, has remained behind,braver (d’Artagnan claims) than all of them put together.

Aramis is not assigned to protectAnne, but the Force appears to have conspired such that he is there to fall inlove with her anyway, to kiss her for her kindness and idealism in the softorange glow of the sparse, earthy room she’s been given. Noobians do not havekings, but he is a Jedi Knight, and she an aspiring senator.

Still – they are to their creditless foolish, more cautious, more selfless in their love than they might havebeen. They promise each other their hearts, but not their futures. They returnto Coruscant. Richelieu’s replacement, a Separatist Spy, is dead, and hisconspirators arrested. The Order is already following leads to other Separatistthreats. Master Treville, reluctant with his affection as always, is relievedthat they are unharmed.

When d’Artagnan leaves the Orderand his saber to marry Constance, Aramis’s heart aches, silent and unforgiving.

He hears the familiar chitter ofPorthos’s droid Dee-Dee at his feet, alerting him, on his way back through thegarden. Aramis looks up to see Anne, there.

“Your Majesty,” he hears himselfcroak. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I promised Constance,” she says,and she is dressed discretely, not as a queen – just as she was just monthsbefore, on the run. There is no paint on her face and ter hair is hangingmostly free, curling at the ends and golden over her blue cloak. She turns herhead and looks sheepish, as though caught. “Or – I promised myself I wouldcome for Constance.”

Aramis says, near a murmur, “itwas a beautiful wedding. They’re very happy.”

Anne is already much closer thanshe was before.

They break their promise.

5. The Order crumbles, and isrebuilt, as is the case for all ancient things.

There is no massacre, nor adecade-long rebellion, but there is a war and there is outcry from the people.

Love, thinks Athos – weary,exhausted, no longer a padawan but not a Knight either – love must never beforbidden. A loveless life does not give strength, but keeps order that hidesrot, and apathy that pretends as calm. A Jedi, Aramis has always argued, mightactually be encouraged to love.

Aramis is quite often a fool,Athos says, but perhaps in this he has always been right.

Porthos laughs; d’Artagnan says,“Well, I figured it all out first, anyway, didn’t I.”

At the end of it all, Anne standstall as elected senator, and puts forth a movement to rebuild a new Order, onethat does not distance itself from the galaxy, but thrives from within it, fromwhat makes all beings shine.

As hisbrothers clap from the public stands and loyal, fierce Constance beams, and asthe small curly-haired child by Anne’s side peers curiously down the podium atthe gathered assembly, smiling gap-toothed at a grinning Aramis – Athos thinksthat the Force must have some sort of say, after all.

[marfian]

A lot of shit about what went down in Argentina. REALLY IT’S A LOT.

Yesterday I didn’t go to the protest because I couldn’t but I followed the debate as much as possible and didn’t go to sleep until I saw the voting. Here are some atrocious things not only I but everyone in Argentina had to cope with, stuff that was said by our REPRESENTATIVES (I can’t stress that enough):

“(...) They talk about solving the abortion issue with a legalised and sure (meaning safe) abortion, yeah surely a kid dies, I have no doubts of that. And we are possibly risking the mother’s life. Free? There’s nothing free in this world, Mr. President. Are we going to ask the Fund (meaning the International Monetary Fund) to lend us money to pay for those abortions? I’m here asking for a graveyard for those kids who weren’t able to be born, victims of abortions. In every church, catholic, jew, whatever, in none of those, I think, it says that it’s allowed to kill your child to be born. I respect women’s freedom, not a single woman missing/dead (referring to NI UNA MENOS a movement to fight for women who die due to different type violence, like domestic violence for instance), and surely in every abortion either a boy or a girl dies. A girl too! Aren’t feminists supposed to protect other women? Don’t forget about the father, because curiously when you need the money you remember the father, but when you want to kill the baby you forget about him. (...) (yeah, a representative SAID THAT. Also, this same man was interviewed saying that if he was elected president he would make capital punishment a law. So apparently, not all lives matter to this pro-life people, interesting.)

“(...) The only thing sure (meaning safe) about abortions is that they don’t exist, they are an overreaction like marketing, they don’t happen.(...) (Yeah, I mean if you think about it there are no statistics measuring the amount of women who die in clandestine abortions but that’s why THEY ARE FUCKING CLANDESTINE YOU CANNOT MEASURE THAT)

“(...) Because I want poor kids to continue to be born. I want kids with dysabilities to continue to be born. (...)” (Apparently, this woman thinks abortions are done to prevent poor kids/dysabled kids from being born, not because of rapes or undesired pregnancies even after you took all the precautions)

“(...) I don’t know if you know how marsupials live and are born. They finish their growth outside their mother’s belly. They crawl and suck on their mother’s breasts for months until they are done with their growth. So I wonder, if we had the same system, and babies were to finish their development outside the belly, if they were 10 to 15 cm while sucking on the mother’s breasts when time for the abortion comes, I wonder would it be that easy to take them from there and throw them to a garbage can as some of you people here want to do? (...)” (Again comparing us with animals, don’t these people know there’s something called empathy and that’s the real difference between us humans and animals, THE EMPATHY TO DISAGREE WITH ABORTION AS AN ACT BUT VOTING IN FAVOUR OF THE LAW KNOWING THAT GIRLS WHO WANT TO DO IT WILL DO IT NONETHELESS, SO EVEN IF YOU DISAGREE THINK ABOUT THEM WHO DON’T WANT TO BE FORCED INTO MOTHERHOOD)

PERSONAL FAVOURITE: “(...) What happens when our little dog gets pregnant? We don’t go to a vet to get an abortion. We may regret what happened, oh such a problem, but we immediately go out to search for people to gift those puppies to, right? Check animals, see how they behave with their cubs, because even the worst predators love their cubs. If we were a little more like animals, then we wouldn’t kill our subs (I don’t even know where to begin with this one jfc) (...)”

“(...) They are asking for fourteen weeks (because the law draws the limit to fourteen weeks, before that you can get an abortion) and by then the kid already has eyes, nails, it sleeps with the mother. It has nails! It has genetic identity! Fourteen weeks in and the baby already moves! It drinks liquid from their mother’s uterus, it sleeps with the mother! It’s a child, it’s a human being! So the lack of a public health system leaves us without the woman, which I lament, but it also leaves us without that new possibility of life that just goes away in a waste bag! (...)” (so apparently a fetus has more right to decide over my body than myself because it has nails by the time fourteen weeks hit, interesting again)

“(...) A child that was conceived to be born, has to be born. When you want to replace an old plant, you take another one, a younger one and one it is done and it has grown enough next to the older one, you cut the older one (clearly referring to the mother and the “child”, since they literally said more than once that if one is to die, then so be it that the mother dies, they say they are pro-life, remember that) (...)” 

“(...) Children are like stars, there is no such thing as too many of them. (...)” (I swear to God, you have to listen to the speeches pro-abortion people made and then compare them with this cheap, out of a fortune cookie kind of bullshit -no disrespect to fortune cookies, I love them)

“(...) According to statistics, more women die due to automobile accidents, not abortions, (...)” (So it doesn’t matter, the lives of women who die in clandestine abortions don’t count because more women die in accidents, so I think some lives are more important than others to this pro-life people, interesting part 3)

“(...) This new law will allow women to have an abortion in whichever moment she wants, even 9 months later (LIE, the law only says fourteen weeks tops) This law will not only kill babies that are twelve weeks old, it will kill babies that are 9 months old. (...)” (Honey, babies, like real babies, were the ones the church helped the militars stole from their missing/tortured/murdered parents during the second dictatorship in Argentina, those were babies. Babies that were robbed of their identities by the same church you agree with and use as an excuse here, because this one is a catholic, she said it)

“(...) I wonder, how can we eliminate the first human type of organism when we try to save other species and plants, we invest a lot of money and study hours and energy. Trying to take care of the endangered species, and we are able to do it, we forget about ourselves. (...)” (what’s even your point like ??)

“(...) An international company very well known in USA called Planeta Parenthood,a doctor (she says the name but I won’t) admits that there they are very good at performing abortions while not touching any organs so they can get the liver, lungs or heart (of the fucking fetus, yes I know wtf). This is because they sell that and a fetus’ brain can be up to a hundred dollars, people pay for fetuses’ parts. This also happens in the UK, France -more particularly brain traffic happens there (I know right? fucking French people trafficking fetuses’ brains)- and it’s been brought to the law I have the documents here, I’ll show it later (needless to say, she never fucking did that). In Spain, Australia, so I wonder, what will be the fate of those fetuses? (...) (fucking europeans and americans, fucking with the fetuses and making money)

“(...) I can see many green handckerchiefs and I want to tell all of you that if your mother’s had had an abortion then some of the people sitting here wouldn’t have become representatives (...)” (this felt like the situation’s equivalent of a ‘yo momma’ joke, just saying)

Keep reading for my two cents here.

So, all in all, the law wasn’t approved and my wish for all this pro-life people is for them to succeed in their promises, promises they made yesterday while defending and justifying themselves. I wish for them to eliminate clandestine abortions completely, I wish for them to move their asses and to start a witch hunt. I wish for them to start hunting down clandestine places and penalising those doctors who make money practising illegal abortions with all the strength of the current law. I wish for them to volunteer themselves to work with the poor, people who have no resources or sex ed, people who don’t know of consent and people who suffer and end up dying because AGAIN the girl who has enough money, she does and lives, the most vulnerable parts of society, the ones who don’t, still do it anyway while knowing they are risking their lives. And most of them die because illegality never saved a single life. I want THE FUCKING CHURCH to help there as well, and I want them to apologise for years and years of covering paedophiles and for having blessed the guns with which militars killed thousands of Argentinian people during the dictatorship. I want them to correct themselves, I want them to stop being fucking hypocrites and admit that all lives were never the same to them. Because this same people later agree with capital punishment.

I want them to present another project with another law to erradicate abortions as a whole, a law that LIKE THE ONE THEY DISAGREED WITH includes three parts (because the law has three parts in which abortion is the last one). First one being “sex ed to decide” what to do with your body, when you decide to share it and with who; the other “contraceptives not to abort” so that you don’t get to actually go through an abortion, an experience both traumatic and undesirable; last one “legal abortion not to die” so that if it comes to the point you have to, then you can do it in a facility that allows you to do it safely and without risking your life.

But they won’t, they’ll forget while girls are still dying. However, I’m optimistic, I think the law will be approved eventually. Not yesterday, but it will happen. My thoughts though are others, I won’t forget. I won’t forget those representatives who justified themselves with beliefs that aren’t correct with reality, beliefs that make us go back a hundred years as a society. And my wish for society as a whole is for us not to forget as well, abortion exists, it’s a thing, it’s a terrible reality but that’s the worst thing about reality, whether you like it or not, it happens. We are left with a 1921 law that doesn’t penalise you in case of rape or risk (mental and physical), so if your contraceptives failed? OH FUCK YOU FOR BEING A WHORE AND A SLUT AND HAVING SEX WITH SOMEONE, because that’s what they say, that’s their opinion. They don’t want women to have rights over their own bodies because a fetus has more rights over my body than I do. I personally don’t want people like that to represent me and have a voice about the future of my country, a voice over my future, everyone’s future.

 “(...) Mr, President I don’t want to be part of a state that continues to ignore our women. I don’t want to look away. The law won’t force you to have an abortion, it will save the woman who decides to interrupt her pregnancy. If sexual education isn’t enough, if family planning isn’t enough, if free contraceptives isn’t enough, then I want us to have another option, I want that woman to have another option, the option to rely on the system without shame or guilt or social stigmatization. I want to help her, be next to her, listen to her, inform her about all the options she has. I want to explain to her the consequences of her decisions, I even want the chance to make her consider not to have an abortion. Today as everything is I don’t have that chance. Like I’ve said before, but I want to repeat it because I want my dreams to be known, my dreams for every woman in this country and for my daughters. From my heart, I mean it, I want for every woman in this country the same things I want for my daughters. I want them to fall in love, I want them to decide to create a family just like I decided to have my children, I want them to never have to make that choice (have an abortion). I honestly dream of that. This months have been very hard for me because I gave myself the oportunity to think and rethink and I say this from my heart, I sincerely do not wish for them to have to make that horrible decision of interrupting a pregnancy. But if they have to I want them to do it safely, accompained and helped in that horrible moment. I want them to live a life with no violence, a life without being discriminated, a life in equality, a life in which they can enjoy all their rights, and that’s why I’m here taking responsibility. I want to do my part. I don’t want to look away. I want to take resposibility here and now saying not one (woman) less. (...)”

Because motherhood will be desired, or it will not be.

[patience-hope-strength-courage]

Where Does My Anxiety Stem From? - 17/07/2021

I’m trying to understand a bit better where some of my Anxiety might stem from, of course it’s impossible to know for sure but I figured maybe writing some things down might help me make more sense of it.

I lived with my Granny from a very young age, I think I was still a baby. My Mum was very ill and in and out of hospital. I remember living with my Granny as a good thing but maybe subconsciously I wondered when I'd see my parents? Or if I'd ever live with them? I didn’t question it knowingly at the time but it must have occurred to me. On paper my life seemed stable but perhaps it wasn’t inside my mind?

My parents separated when I was around 5 years old and my Mum moved into a flat. I didn’t know this was why at the time and was told she was moving there to get better. Do these kind of situations cause feeling of Anxiety?

My Dad got really poorly in 1998 when I was 6 and I remember my Granny being very honest and realistic that she thought he was going to die. Thankfully some how and maybe due to a miracle he recovered! I don’t know if this may have contributed to Anxiety?

In June 1998 my Mum collapsed at her flat and when she was found and taken to the hospital it was too late, they couldn’t get her back and she died. Realising things were out of control from such a young age may have affected my Anxiety?

I remember from quite a young age becoming almost obsessed with the idea of being “Good”. I was terrified of getting into trouble and doing things wrong. My family were very strict and on the rare occasions I behaved badly I was sure to know I had and made to feel incredibly ashamed. I vowed to try harder and not get into trouble. This attitude followed me all the way through Secondary School and I put so much pressure on myself to never get in trouble and was labelled by peers as a “Goody Two Shoes”. I relied on validation and praise from teachers a lot. Did this pressure add to my Anxiety?

In 2002 when I was 11 my Granny sadly died. Outwardly I coped with this really well considering she basically my Mum. She was my everything but I knew she wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad. So I got on with life as I knew she’d want me to, I needed to make her proud. Did this add to my Anxiety at all? Maybe I felt more alone after she died.

I always wanted people to like me at school. When I was about 6/7 I wasn’t a very nice child, I bullied one of my friends. Something to this day I am still so ashamed of even though she is still one of my closest friends and I love her dearly. I just feel so guilty for how I treated her all those years ago, I take full responsibility for it. My family made sure I felt this too when they found out. I am still reminded by some of how bossy I was as a child so I’ve always tried to actively be the opposite as felt this was seen as abad thing. As I got older I became paranoid with every upsetting anyone and would constantly apologise just in case I had done or said something wrong. It consumed me at times. I couldn’t deal with conflicts or confrontations. Maybe this has contributed to my Anxiety?

I often got picked on at school as a teenager, I don’t like to use the word bullied as that sounds fairly extreme. But I was called things like: “Emotional Train Wreck”, “Goody Two Shoes”, “Always talks about her dead relatives”, “Socially Rejected”, “Two Faced Malicious B****”, “Not Wanted”, “Two Sensitive”, “Weird”, “Not Normal”, “Loner”, among others. I am fully aware teenagers say things they don’t mean but it’s important to realise that words have an impact on how others feel. I am sure I am guilty of saying things and hurting people’s feelings when I was growing up and I hold my hands up and take responsibility for that and can only apologise. Do people being unkind cause Anxiety?

Leaving school was incredibly tough for me, even remembering this time causes me to feel anxious and actually makes me cry. I loved school, I was not ready. It was safe, it was stable, there was routine, I knew what was expected of me, people cared about me, people knew me. Sometimes I feel like nothings been the same since I left school 11 years ago now! How can I still not be over this? Looking back I believe I always had Anxiety at this point but hadn’t put the label on it.

Going to University made it worse, it was a dark time for me. I relapsed with Self-Harm after nearly 2 years. I developed OCD - centred around checking the oven, lights, locks. It’s an incredibly difficult time to remember. I did make a very good friend during this year which I'm always grateful for!

During this year at University my Dad then died very suddenly which sent me into a deep grief. I don’t remember all of this time as it was such a shock but I know my Anxiety got a lot worse after this time. The following year I did go to the doctors and I did start counselling a year or two after.

In 2014 I was finishing my Degree with The Open Unviersity, which. I had absolutely loved studying for. I was also preparing to start my PGCE year and move away from home. I was very anxious about this but I also had to leave my job of 3 years which was actually at the school where I had been a student. I got a job helping at lunchtimes and as a TA with Early Years and KS1. I knew this time I was really leaving. Getting this job after my Dad died helped me more than I can explain. Just being back there I feel saved me. I was still struggling and in a lot of emotional pain but I felt so accepted and supported. It upsets me to remember feeling that way because I’m not sure if I have since I left. The colleagues I worked with and being able to talk to some of my past teachers helped me so much. I left in 2014 and without sounding dramatic I feel like it broke my heart. I cannot put into words how it felt saying goodbye to people and driving away for the last time. I cried for days and just thinking about it makes me cry still all these years later. It really was such a significant place and helped me so much in many ways, particularly actually after I was no longer a student and after my Dad died. My gratitude is huge.

Starting my PGCE in the Autumn of 2014 was tough but I was excited too for the challenge but it was really hard at first. I felt really alone having moved away and living on my own. I wasn’t around people who had supported me for so long, I didn’t know who I could talk to, who I could trust. I tried speaking to my Tutor but soon realised it wasn’t the right person and soon stopped. I just got on with the year and made friends, one friendship in particular is now one of my closest friends and I'm very grateful. I look back on this year as a good one but it was challenging to manage my Anxiety and I felt alone a lot, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to as much anymore. By the end of my PGCE I had found a way to feel more confident, perhaps more in my work than in myself but still it helped. I felt like I was going to make a good teacher and received good feedback from my mentors.

In the Autumn I began my Teaching Job as an NQT, something that began as a really exciting opportunity soon turned out to be some of the most difficult months of my life. It’s long and complicated to go into but in the end I felt like I was useless at my job, not good enough, incapable, inferior. It’s so difficult to remember these times, I don’t even know if people knew what was going on or how someone made me feel because I tried my best to just get on with it and keep quiet. Maybe they never meant to make me feel that way but after my second year I had no confidence left in my teaching abilities and I felt broken compared to who  I was when I had started. I cried when I left because I cared so much for the children in my class and had good relationships with the parents but also from relief I think that it was over. I was also grieving in a way because I believed this was going to be the start of a truly amazing career but I just came up short. Maybe I just wasn’t good enough.

I left in 2017 to work in a Nursery but this ended up making me feel even worse - I was shouted at, mocked, made to feel useless, incapable, stupid, slow and just not good enough. It was humiliating at times and after a year I couldn't take it anymore, I felt so low in my confidence. After this time I just felt like I wasn’t tough enough for this world, too sensitive and just maybe not quite good enough. 

At the end of 2018 I found something out that would cause me to feel - I'm not even sure what the feeling are or were to be honest but it was incredibly difficult. I found out something about someone who had helped me for many years and I had so many conflicting emotions. I didn’t know what to do, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. It hurt me so much, I looked up to him like a Dad and I realise that may have not been fair on him but he helped me more than I can explain especially with my Mental Health and after I lost my Dad. I’ll forever be grateful for the kindness he showed me despite what I found out. I guess this was kind of like grief maybe, like I was grieving for someone I knew but they were still alive.

My Anxiety got a lot worse in 2019 when I was pregnant with my daughter as it was all I'd hoped for and I couldn’t wait to be a Mum but because of that I was terrified of anything going wrong. I was consumed by Anxiety, I was scared to do much at all, slept so much just to pass the days, obsessed with monitoring her movements, so careful with what I ate and terrified of giving birth. I just wanted her here safe more than anything. It was supposed to be such a happy experience being pregnant but I was just too scared and didn’t want to let myself feel happy until I had delivered her safely.

For me the whole labour and birth was really traumatic and I still find it hard to talk about. On paper it probably wasn't that bad but for me it was terrifying in my mind, I was so scared of what would happen to her or me. I’m also terrified of hospitals anyway so that added to the fear. I’ve never been so grateful once I was able to hold her and she was okay.

I actually feel like I managed my Anxiety quite well in the first couple of months of becoming a Mum, I just put all my energy and focus into my Daughter and I honestly felt a happiness I never have before, she was all I wished for and I was so grateful because I knew how lucky I was and that it is a privilege to become a Mum. Unfortunately then the Pandemic hit.

Since then I've been terrified of getting the virus, my daughter getting ill, obsessing over making sure her things are clean, keeping her safe, making sure she's happy. Being the best Mum I can, planning activities for her in lockdown. It’s too long to put into this post about how The Pandemic has affected my Anxiety as there’s a lot but it’s been hard. I have actually made a lot of progress since the start of Lockdown last March in some ways but in other ways it’s got harder.

I’m making progress in doing more but struggling because I feel so much pressure and expectation to get back to doing things quicker and feeling judged at times for my Anxiety and how I've chosen to do things since the pandemic started and for how I am as a Mum. These have made my Anxiety worse and also my Self Esteem so it’s difficult to manage at the minute. Whilst my Anxiety is hard to cope with at the minute it then brings up lots of things from the past too that I've written here, it’s hard to explain but it reminds me of all the times I've struggled and that brings up difficult feelings.

I have no idea if any of this makes sense but for myself I wanted to try and write all the significant things that may have contributed to my Anxiety. Of course there’s been some amazing and wonderful times too but for this post I just wanted to focus on the times that have contributed to my Anxiety. I guess it’s complicated though.

[wreckthelist]

‘cause talk is cheap: bangtan brings my butter pt I.

I hate butter.

Not the song, obviously. I hate the grease, the vomit-inducing odor. How it dissolves and coats, lubricates the pan with all that... fat.

But love means never hesitating and unconditionally welcoming whatever’s in store with opening arms, weathering the storm and soldiering through world-war I trenches side-by-side, that sort of shit.

And so. When my beloved boys (everyone’s - yea, I hear you) released the first blindingly piercing yellow - like that obnoxious cheery shade, you know it- teaser logo for the 2021 single butter, I did welcome it with open arms.

The twitter TL was yellow. Thai ARMY’s in particular. Cough, ahem ahem.

Then came the first set of teaser photos, which were... lackluster and underwhelming, to say the least. The boys’ charms and looks alone were pretty much carrying the shots.

It took a couple of days to realize they were in an elevator. And then the comparisons with Dope started.

This glow up! Pssst. Precious.

The concept clips and second set of teaser photos threw everyone into a frenzied spin.

I mean, what in the fresh hell?

The jewelry. The props. The leather. Skin. Fresh cut shorts, bare arms. Explosive hair colors. 

Skin.

Please never, ever, ever cease being you, Kim Taehyung. Whatever you view you to be at that point in life. Because I adore you.

I dunno what sort of awkward family photo this is. But it just is.

Auras from Hoseok and Seokjin - we are not surprised. We’re just in respectful awe.

Now, 하자, here’s the main dish.

Of all the teasers, the trailer definitely hit me the hardest.

I mean. Are you kidding me? 

Those shimmering jacket flaps. Performer streaks dying to break out. Dancey dance bass beats, boys covering their mouths bopping their heads to each beat like they’re relishing being great teases they are at holding back a secret they can’t wait to spill.

God. Yes.

Color the whole clip in black and white and I’m weak in the knees.

Then, as you may have guessed by now, knowing me, I made pancakes the morning of May 20th, 1 day before the comeback.

The logo didn’t quite come out as designed. But still. Kind of. Okay.

So I coated the pan with butter, maybe for the first time in my life. And I (and Dad) let the it melt. We had the heat turned up too high, and I never did get the butter melting instagram worthy content I wanted the minute I decided to side step (ha ha) my own ongoing diet and asked Dad to buy the After You wholewheat (I tried. It’s not Makai Acai’s Oat pancakes but I tried.).

But what I could tell you was butter sizzled. It melted and crackled and dissolved into little bursts of exploding fireworks, little tszzz teasers of sounds that attacked you in minuscule jabs, mini dynamites, almost.

And that’s the way BTS’s butter smoothly melted its way into your hearts. Even non-ARMY’s.

When we think, ‘smooth,’ we think one-shot motions, uninterrupted movements and cool guy swagger. An exact, precise sort of soft, pillowy flow that messes with nobody and elevates in a class by itself.

Butter is all that and more.

There’s power in using a singular word as the title, one that rolls off the tongue and can be British (but-tah) and American (butt-ter) at the same time.

It grabs you. Pulls you in. And seeps, makes its way in.

Start with a simple backdrop (there’s a high chance that, if I were chatting with you on Microsoft Teams at 11am, May 21, I was humming along to Butter) - then bring in Jungkook, just as I’d been afraid that the whole MV would be minimal as per the teaser.

Then the beat drops and in walks Jungkook - doing what he does best.

(and more. because, you know, Golden Maknae.)

And bam. We got a Michael Jackson reference right off the bat. Of course.

Hey, thanks Dynamite for getting us together, I’d hold off no limits too.

How can I even begin to describe the swag that’s oozing and flowing in his screencap?

When asked by Zach the radio host what it means to be ‘smooth like butter,’ Jungkook replied, ‘like Jimin,’ and boy, is he not wrong.

Center!Jimin in white, white!Seokjin right behind him and surrounded by all men in black? I’ll take one, please.

Look at that neck.

And those wrists.

The jewelry on them. His rings, the watch. The dangling earrings.

This man did not come to play.

Taehyung’s index finger, Namjoon’s fist, Jungkook’s hand-gun(?) in Jimin’s direction and pouty lips ready to spill secrets, Yoongi’s inward-curling hand and fingers (for what? we’ll never know), Hoseok’s gaping duo fingers and pushed up, swaggered lips. Booyah, baby. We in for something special.

Only the second line, but the MJ reference carries. Jungkook’s oozing swag, still, and he’s in character.

The lyrics continues, emphasizes the theme of ‘a smooth criminal’ that’s only too exemplified by all that JK swag we’ve come to know and love and adore to the point of charmed unadulterated worship.

Lips pressed together, eye brows closed in.

Hello, mister.

The word ‘undercover’ is a grand slap bang to the first mini bomb dropped by Butter, just 12 seconds into the song (intro included), transporting the ‘smooth criminal’ phrase into some furtive operation (to steal ARMYs’ hearts! but let’s not get ahead of ourselves), even boasting (with swag) that in disguise, under the outspoken, openly announced pretense of being someone else, bangtan will still manage to---

The money shot. We’re not ashamed of watching and rewatching this for 100M++ times. Never.

Let’s never stop gabbing about how much I love and adore KookV. Not only the portmanteau, or shipping, or anything platonic or imagined romantic bond or whatever. Just. Them.

Them being them and all this chemistry. This bond. This relationship.

Look at Taetae glancing over his shoulder, index finger pointing at Jungkook sneaking up behind him, that extended long hair curved over his adorable round face, the cheeks filling up the frame. Jungkook’s heels pointed at the floor and one shoe raised, about to walk on by in Taehyung’s backdrop.

What’s amazing about Bangtan, always, is that they never seem to steal each other’s spotlight. The harmonic coexistence, chemistry, and tangible, implied closeness is even captured in a still screencap.

“Gon’ pop like trouble,” at first listen reminded me of bubbles, to be honest, but then naturally I got to thinking of those bubbly (Hi, Colbie Caliat, lol) blisters of oily Butter that went tsz tsz tsz soon as the butter melted on the pan.

It’s not deathly harm. It’s just heated scratches - warm enough to wake you up, explosive enough to make you pause, and tinges enough to poke and nudge you to listen. 

Never imploring. Not forcing. Never heavy-handed. Because this, ladies and gents, this is swag.

So they’re hinting (adorably - because I view Jungkook and Taehyung through adoring, fond lens) that they’re about to cause trouble, wreck havoc, bring the pain (I’m kidding), but in that soft, self-contained imagery of the word ‘pop’ that dissociates, dissolves within seconds before you know it, before you could prepare or get ahold of yourself.

The butter pops. BTS’s buttery bubble pops. And the world’s no less than prepared.

Gratuitous shot of us with Jungkook. Look, we are right there on his palm.

 Also, because I am in love with this smile.

(It’s such a typical MV shot, but I’ll let it pass. Because. You know. Jungkook.)

(Yes. That word in and of itself is the answer.)

(No takebacks.)

At this level of detailed inspection, I can’t help wondering if Namjoon’s looking to Hoseok or someone else to check the beat. I would’ve done the same, Joonie.

But yes, right in my weakness for synchronized, uniformed (preferably suits) boys performing.

(I heard you.)

We lose.

There’s nowhere to go.

They’ve caught us.

Center!Hoseok and Jimin looking down like that to the left of the frame. Men in black in a grouped cluster behind Hoseok, Tae looking down to the middle of the left, Joon to the right, and Jungkook to Tae’s back of the neck. Seokjin almost dancing and Yoongi’s half profile turned to the camera for that reveal of this gorgeous bodyline curve in a tailor made suit.

Ok, yea.

so criminal. very swag. dead arresting.

I am taken.

So. Back to the lyrics.

“Breakin’ into your heart like that,’ they’ve told us and told us when introducing Butter that the track would melt and dissolve its way into ARMY’s hearts, and right here is Jungkook himself singing about “breakin’“ making his explosive way into the listener’s heart.

“Breakin’“ continues the theme of ‘smooth criminal,’ and ‘undercover [psst. disguises]’ committing a crime, invoking violence, splaying black on a white canvas, creating impact just to be noticed. The imagery this evokes in my head was some kind slamming, a crash-course collision, banging (what a banger! lmao) its way into someone’s innermost, close emotional space they hold dear: the heart. (An important, standout word to note: “in” - once someone is in, he/she is “in.”)

But be not afraid. This criminal is bangtan.

Taehyung’s pursed lips are the “cool” stunners here.

Side note: of course people noticed only Tae and Yoongi are the ones sporting sunglasses (me! want! give! please!... but why? in this pandemic... why....). #Taegi #GaV forever.

Cough.

Love how he enunciates syllables, rolls them like babies in his mouth for us. This almost-wet(?) look, fashionably messed up head of hair, and the ~$287K one-sided dangly Chanel earring I would kill for.

(I’ve been in love, satan, but not like this.)

Again, notice that Yoongi’s sunglasses are more Wayfarer Classic (doesn’t look as cool on my face, unfortunately. Boo.), while Tae’s is that intoxicating vintage, tinted, rounded ones. 

I’m just being basic and linking to Ray-Bans but they’re so clearly more sophisticated brands.

How perfect to intercut the horizontal group shot here (hit them where it hurts - with everything and all you’ve got.)

“Cool shade stunner” - got to hand it to the lyricists for stringing long the theme so smoothly (heheh). Here we’ve got the blatant juxtaposition of “cool” against the imagined warmth of butter, or the implied (if any) undercurrents of hot, swaggering criminals blazing their way into your hearts with violent undertones.

We all know ‘cool’ is an ironic contrast in itself, a way intrinsically defining (and inducing) a calm, collected demeanor which doubles as a slang for swag. 

“shade stunner” (guess what!) - the alliteration slips off the tongue like a charm. One of the reasons I’m in love with sunglasses is their fix-all, cure-all makeover magic for transforming the wearer into a cooler (ahem) person, arresting to eyes and a focus point for onlookers, and that’s exactly what it says on the tin here.

Tae gets two screenshots because he’s Tae.

Just going to speculate here that Taetae might have come up with this choreo reflecting the lyrics (looking to the heavens, thanking the ones above/’mother’ at the higher-up place of respect). 

Those veins. The long fingers you’d like to be wrapped around yours, and the pursed lips. This defined jawline.

Oh, please.

Of course, we love a grateful Mama’s boy (biased lens, narrow and restricted context as specified). 

“Yeah, I owe it [the swag] all to my mother.” 

World, meet Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin does not need to meet the world. Clearly. Because he already owns it.

Where do you think you’re going, with one-eye closed and finger pointed directly at me? Where do you think you’re leaving to?

A pictorial representation of Taehyung’s double-edged cuteness: deathly adorable.

The wide-open lips, his palm spread out, hand in pocket.

“Hot like summer,” a phrase sung here as in direct aural reply to “mother,” (the ‘er’ sound echoing off the walls) but also a no-brainer inclusion to this song so advertised repeatedly as a summer banger.

(#BUTTERSOTY LET’S GO PEOPLE!)

Add to the fire, let the flames burn. Make ‘em hot. Keep the thirst traps and tabs open. Like they’ve never thirsted before.

Like this rolled tongue here? Criminal.

Just another day in the life of a talented visual.

And you know, way, way superior to a look that I’m only beginning to grasp in my mind as Arctic Monkeys-esque.

Aaand - scatter! Yoongi’s such a flying cat. Jimin’s halfway through a dance move. Hoseok’s side-profiling also perhaps a dance move (THOSE. WAISTS. I’m a girl and I’m blushing!). Jungkook’s half turned, wide-open shirt.

This is only 24 seconds in.

Who gave this man a lollipop? I repeat. Who put our tiny, fragile, self-loving lives in danger? WHO GAVE THIS MAN A LOLLIPOP?

STOP.

HOLD IT.

.... [deep breaths] oh god. That was a trip.

And I may not be physically sweating through my pores - but hell, I was sweating through the pores in my heart, my head, and my mind.

It’s hold-your-breath-and-don’t-notice-it-but-just-let-go split second vibe.

The Dior sunglasses just intensified this whole marvelous split second lollipop sucking debacle of Kim Taehyung.

aaand that’s it. I will not say a word more.

His jacket’s flapping tail! I cry!

Ok. Focus. Lyrics.

Last week the temperature in my home office shot up to a staggering 36.7 C degrees, and, if Bangtan’s comparing their hotness to a sweltering summer when sweat popped up on tanned skin, this unbearable hint of *ahem**cough*ahem* smexy (i went that way, I’m sorry) tension, this was exactly it.

Namjoon whispers this, I’ve learned.

It’s the phrase right before the pre-chorus (you’re here, finally, oh my god. Hahaha I hear you.), a typical (again) phrase signaling a deeper dive into the lyrics or taking a closer zoom into them boys (because, please) and what they’re saying (inviting, selling us on).

The boys’ exact same pose mirror this. Tae’s already had his palm spread open like this a few seconds ago, and here he’s doing it again in unison with the group.

Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s are at the same degree/height of hand raised.

Jungkook’s more soft, innocent “hey, I hear you.”

Hoseok’s the cautiously curious, “What’s goin’ on, folks?”

Jimin’s is straight up, “i’mma power-moving you today, bitches.”

Taehyung’s showing off his boxy smile teeth, and Joon’s all, “I’m here. hold up, hold it.”

Everyone’s talking about Seokjin. But it was a crime to ever have stopped.

Let’s talk mug shots.

One - side profile. Two - plunging neckline on a v-neck dark tee. Three - necklaces.

Babyyyy, why’d you shut your eyes like that??

He knows what the sleeveless top does. He knows.

One squinted eye, blown up blonde hair, a hand raising his blazer at the back. He knows.

TBC. seems like Tumblr’s hit a photo limit.

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Crusader of Life: Chapter 14

“I told you!” you boasted as you all sped through the desert sand in the dune buggy Joseph rented. “I told you we were gonna be attacked by a Stand!”

“We just had a near-death experience,” Joseph groaned, “and you want to brag about it?”

“I’m bragging because I was right,” you told him. “I knew that the submarine was a great place to get us cornered.”

“She has a point,” Avdol added. “She predicted what we didn’t.”

“Well, enough about that now,” Joseph said, trying to change the subject, “we’re actually meeting some Speedwagon guys just up ahead. They’ll arrive in a helicopter.”

“Really?” Kakyoin asked. “After we just wrecked their submarine?”

“They understand that some things may be damaged while we fight off constant Stand attacks,” Joseph explained. “Plus, this time, they’re bringing someone who’ll assist us.”

“Assist us?” Jotaro, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke up. “You mean, another Stand user?”

“Precisely,” Joseph said. “But we’ll have to be careful. He has some… personality issues.”

Some time had passed, and everyone had gotten out of the buggy and met the Speedwagon guys in the helicopter.

“Iggy’s in the back,” one of them pointed to the rear door of the helicopter. “But be cautious. The ride here was really rough, so he’s already in a bad mood.”

“Well, where is he?” Polnareff asked, rummaging through the back. “Come on, show yourself!”

“Polnareff, be careful,” Joseph warned. “One of Iggy’s favorite things to do is-“

Just then, a tiny dog jumped out from the blanket on the seat and started attacking Polnareff.

“…chew people’s hair,” Joseph finished.

Iggy… Iggy was a dog? “How does such a tiny little thing have a Stand?” you accidentally thought out loud.

“You’d be surprised,” Joseph replied, then went to talk in private with the two Speedwagon members.

“Iggy!” Avdol prompted, holding up some gum. “I’ve got a treat for you!” Of course, Iggy came sprinting towards the smell of whatever flavor that gum was. You looked at the package, and saw it was coffee flavored.

“Coffee flavored gum,” you muttered. “What a weird dog.”

Still, weird or not, that fur on Iggy’s back was begging to be scratched, and you couldn’t just say no. While the tiny dog was distracted with his chewy snack, you sunk your hands into his back and started to pet it. He jumped a little bit at first, but quickly let you keep going. You decided to use different types of pets, too. You softly stroked him from his head to his rear, used your nails to delicately scratch his skin, and massaged slowly with your fingers. It wasn’t long before Iggy rolled over to let you rub his belly.

“Oh, yes, you’re a good boy,” you cooed. “A good boy with a Stand, that’s all.”

“You’ve already bonded with the dog,” Kakyoin chuckled.

“I have a soft spot in my heart for animals,” you said, still rubbing Iggy’s belly. “It can’t be helped.”

Kakyoin gave a small “hm,” as he started to sit down next to you in the sand. Both of you sat silently next to each other for a minute or two, until you let Iggy go, and watched him run back to chase Polnareff.

“Iggy really doesn’t like him, huh?” you giggled.

“Yeah,” Kakyoin said, almost deadpan. “You know, I overheard from Mr. Joestar’s conversation that there’s more Stand users headed our way. These guys have Stands named after Egyptian gods, and will be much more powerful.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” you replied. “Good thing we know they’re headed our way.”

“That’s not the point,” Kakyoin interjected. “The thing is, well, your Stand… will you be alright? I won’t be mad if you leave now. Don’t get me wrong, Ace of Pentacles is plenty strong, but not… fighting wise. I mean, um,”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” you laughed. “And no, I won’t be leaving. I just have to stay out of trouble, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Kakyoin sighed. “I just don’t want you getting in any unnecessary danger.”

“Isn’t this whole trip just one big case of unnecessary danger?” You were only half joking, though.

“Hey, you two!” Joseph yelled from the buggy. “We’re leaving!”

“Coming!” Kakyoin yelled back. Both of you ran back, and entered the back of the buggy. However, Kakyoin was promptly forced out by a growling Iggy. The dog looked at you, and crawled into your lap, immediately rolling over to expose his stomach. Looks like your ticket to an actual seat would come with a price. And you knew from then on Iggy would know you as “The girl who pets me.”

“It just isn’t fair!” Polnareff pouted. “Why do (Y/N) and the dumb mutt get the full backseat to themselves while we have to be cramped in the trunk?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault he warmed up to me,” you grunted.

“Technically, it is,” Jotaro countered. “You decided to pet him, and so now he loves you. Dogs will love anyone who shows them affection.”

“Okay, maybe it is my fault,” you argued, “but I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Stop bickering back there!” Joseph said from the front. “When we reach a stopping place, we’ll throw some gum in the trunk, and you guys can move to the seats.”

“Fine,” Polnareff grumbled.

For a good while, the only sounds were the rumble of the car and Iggy’s happy grunts. But that nice silence quickly came to a stop as Joseph slammed on the breaks, sending the boys in the trunk flying forward.

“Hey, what gives?!” Polnareff exclaimed.

“Sorry about that,” Joseph replied, “but we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands.”

It didn’t take long for you to notice the helicopter that had delivered Iggy to you. Once the car was stopped, everyone ran out to look at the rubble from the wreck, and see if it was just mechanical failure, or if their new enemy Stand user had already arrived.

“Look at those scratch marks,” Jotaro pointed to the hull of the copter, where beast-like marks were clawed throughout. Subconsciously, your eyes moved down to the man who was right under the helicopter, and you immediately had to look away. That didn’t stop the horrifying image from burning itself into your mind, though. The man’s fingernails were bent unnaturally upward, and his mouth was filled to the brim with water. On top of that, he had a distorted look on his face, similar to the man in the fog town with Enyaba. The whole thing made you want to puke.

“Everyone, I found the second guy over here!” Kakyoin shouted. “He’s still alive!”

Sure enough, when you ran over, the second man was very much alive, but he was so dehydrated, he looked like a raisin.

“W…wa…ter…” was all the man could rasp out.

“Water! Of course! He needs water!” Kakyoin muttered. He quickly found a canteen that still felt somewhat full, and started to slowly dip it down for the pruned man. “Drink slowly,” he ordered.

“N-no! The water!” The Speedwagon Foundation worker suddenly gained the ability to make full sentences. “The water’s going to attack!”

Without warning, the water from the canteen shot forward in the shape of a hand, grabbed the man’s head, and ripped it off, sucking it into the canister from where it came. Nobody wasted any time getting out of the way, and hiding in the sand. Polnareff and Kakyoin were opposite to you, Jotaro, Joseph, and Avdol. And from what you saw, they seemed to be arguing, pointing over to the canteen from time to time.

“(Y/N),” Joseph looked over at you, his eyes barely over his hat, “I’ve gotten word from the Speedwagon Foundation that there are more, stronger Stand users who’ll be attacking us. For your own safety, I suggest leaving now, before you get caught in a situation that you can’t save yourself from.”

“Mr. Joestar,” a smile curled up from your mouth, “I appreciate your concern, but I can fend for myself if that happens. You’ve seen how Ace of Pentacles has gotten us out of tricky situations before. I can always do the same thing to myself.”

“She’s right,” Avdol replied. “Plus, she’s vital to the team. If she wasn’t here, we’d spend way too much money on first aid.”

“Hey,” Jotaro pointed over to Kakyoin and Polnareff. “What’s that thing in between them?”

It looked like a hand with very sharp fingernails, from what you could see. But it was clear…

No. But how? The Stand was in the canteen! When did it escape?

Before you could process what was going on, the water hand swiped at Kakyoin’s eyes, and he instantly fell to the ground.

“Kakyoin!” Polnareff shouted. “It… it got his eyes!”

“Kakyoin!” you screamed. You got up from your hiding spot to run over, but quickly felt a force pulling you back. You looked behind you, and Star Platinum was holding your shirt. Still, you clawed at the loose sand, hoping to make some sort of progress, but no prevail.

“Good grief, (Y/N),” Jotaro sighed. “We don’t even know what this Stand can do. Making sudden movements probably isn’t the best idea.”

Sure enough, right in front of you, the enemy’s Stand had appeared from underneath the Earth. After seeing what it had done to both the Speedwagon worker and Kakyoin, having it right in front of you made a wave of fear roll over your entire body. Was this it? We’re you going to die right here, before you could even save Kakyoin?

Before you knew it, though, the hand dashed over to a beeping sound coming from the Speedwagon member’s watch and swiped off his arm. Of course, that didn’t really matter, since he was already beheaded. But it gave you some insight to what really triggered the Stand’s movements.

“Sound!” Everyone turned to face you. “The Stand navigates by sound! That being said, nobody move!”

However, even with everyone staying completely still, the blood from Kakyoin’s eyes dripped to the floor. It didn’t take long for the water to hear it, and it shot back towards Polnareff.

“Okay, screw the staying still,” Joseph ordered, “everyone to the buggy!”

Of course, the crew obeyed, Polnareff carrying Kakyoin in his arms. Joseph and Jotaro, aided by their Joestar genes, made it first, followed by Avdol, you, and Polnareff, who quickly laid Kakyoin on the roof of the buggy.

“Fix him!” he demanded. “You have to fix him!”

“I’m doing it right now, geez!” you replied, having already summoned Ace of Pentacles.

“Yeah, well, do it faster!”

“If I don’t get this eye anatomy right, Kakyoin’s eyes will be deformed for the rest of his life!” You started to get uncharacteristically snappy. “Now, shut up and let me do this correctly!”

Of course, you couldn’t get into a full-blown argument right now. After all, if your full concentration wasn’t on Kakyoin, his eyes would never be the same. It’s a good thing you decided to take anatomy classes, because they were sure coming in handy.

“Alright, he’s fixed!” You started beaming with joy. “Now we just need to keep him away from danger until he wakes up.”

“Why isn’t he awake now?” Polnareff whined.

“Because, Polnareff,” you growled, driving every ounce of anger out of your body, “since my Stand isn’t instantly healing someone, rather just making extensions of other cells in their body to heal them, the pain from the injury is still there. Also, don’t you think I care about Kakyoin the most? I’m so close to him, he’s dating me! You’re lucky Ace doesn’t have any fighting abilities, or you’d be sent back to the sand, where Water Boy can rip your face straight off of that head with more hair follicles than brain cells! Because it seems like you’d rather me heal Kakyoin quickly, rather than heal him correctly!” After the rant was over, you started breathing hard, trying to calm yourself down.

“You done yet?” Jotaro asked.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you said.

Suddenly, the buggy’s wheels sinking into the sand, which had been turned into mud. There was only one thing that could’ve happened. Water Claw was on the attack again. Before you knew it, the buggy had been flipped almost completely around, and everyone fell back down to the Earth, at the enemy’s mercy.

“Well, what do we do now?” Polnareff asked, not moving an inch.

“I guess this is the time to stay completely still,” Joseph answered. “Other than that, pray our souls will be saved.”

“Wait!” Avdol exclaimed. “I have an idea.” He started throwing his bracelet rings, one by one, in a footstep pattern. He was trying to trick the user!

And luckily, it seemed to work. Water started to rise where the last ring was thrown. But as Avdol summoned Magician’s Red, the water diverted its path to attack Avdol instead, leaving him with a huge gash in his neck.

“Avdol!” You wanted to rush over there, but you knew that was suicide. “I’ll heal you as soon as possible, I promise! Just hang in there!”

Of course, as soon as you finished your sentence, the water started to form right around where Avdol was laying. That meant Aqua Hand wasn’t done yet. You wanted so desperately to make it before it was too late, but any movement and you’d be the target instead of Avdol. However, it looked like Jotaro had given you an opportunity to heal the man, as he jumped from his spot and started running, and, luckily, the Stand chased after him.

Quickly, you scrambled over to Avdol, and summoned Ace of Pentacles. As skin is a lot less complicated than eyes (and a lot less delicate), you were able to fix him in ten seconds flat. And, since he hadn’t fully passed out, he woke up immediately.

“That’s the second time you’ve saved my life,” Avdol said, his voice straining a bit.

“Stay still,” you soothed. “Your body’s still feeling the pain from the attack.”

“Guys!” Polnareff shouted. “Guys! Kakyoin’s waking up!”

Nobody wasted any time getting close to the boy’s side, especially you. And, as Polnareff said, his eyes were slowly opening, and his throat was groaning. He had started to get himself to sit up, until you helped the rest of the way and kissed him on the lips.

“What a way to wake up,” he chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “And I see you’ve already healed my eyes.”

You gave a soft “mmmm-hmmm,” before you stuffed your face into his shirt. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m okay thanks to you,” Kakyoin said while he put an arm around your back.

“Okay, you two,” Joseph pried you off of Kakyoin’s grip, and helped both of you up, “let’s go see how Jotaro and Iggy are doing.”

All of you had gotten in the buggy, and had started going the direction Jotaro had. It didn’t take long to find them, though, with a figure laying in the sand beside them. Looks like they found the user. Joseph stopped for a moment to let the two on, and started going again.

“So, he could navigate with sound?” Kakyoin asked.

“He was blind, so he must’ve become an expert at listening for his life,” Jotaro answered. “But we were able to get close enough to beat him before anything else bad happened.”

“(Y/N),” Polnareff said, not meeting eyes with you, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you responded. “I don’t think you have more hair follicles than brain cells.” After your true apology, you added, in a hushed tone, “They’re at least equal.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

And finally, after seemingly an hour, you had arrived in the city where your hotel would be for the night. With all that had happened, when you fell into your bed, you almost went right to sleep.

That is, until you heard the door open.

“Iggy needs somewhere to sleep tonight,” Joseph explained, “And you’ve gotten along with him the best.” Then he closed the door, and you felt a small creature jump up into the bed with you, and curl its body close to yours.

“Goodnight, Iggy,” you whispered. This time, you truly drifted off to sleep, feeling like every single worry had left your mind.

Except for Dio. The threat of Dio would be constantly looming over your shoulder, especially now that you were in Egypt. But other than that, every care went away, as you slowly slipped into unconsciousness. You were finally here. Egypt.

Dio stood no chance against your team.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’ve been reading Anne’s books all weekend and I almost forgot about posting this chapter lmaoo it’s here and queued now so I’m safe. You’re welcome -Danny

Words: 3,686

Warnings: Blood and a tad of violence 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Seventeen: Under The Whomping Willow.

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Was the first thing Hagrid told them.

He let them in anyway, and they took off the cloak while Hagrid walked around the place giving the impression that the walls were closing around him.

"Wan' some tea?" He asked.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione inquired while sitting down at the table.

"I — I took him outside. He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' — an' smell fresh air — before —"

He let out a strangled sigh before dropping the milk, causing them to jump.

"I'll do it, Hagrid," Hermione got up again to help him.

"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid sat down, nothing but defeat in his voice.

Harry, Ron, and Mel shared the same expression.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Dumbledore —"

"He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like... threatened 'em, I expect... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's... but it'll be quick an' clean... an' I'll be beside him..."

Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it — while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter — ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..."

Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway... If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."

Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid, bustling around making tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.

"Ron! I — I don't believe it — it's Scabbers!"

Ron gaped at her.

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

"Scabbers!" said Ron blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"

Mel reached out to get the rat, the brief second her fingers curled around the animal's tail she felt overwhelmed by panic and the inexplicable need to run away. She dropped the creature in spite of Ron's complaints and held her hand up closer to the light.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron, picking up the rat again. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

"Mel," Harry put a hand on her shoulder, the feeling immediately easing her heart. "Are you okay?"

She took a moment, trying to understand what'd just happened.

"I... I think so," She cleared her throat, rubbing her wrist. "Doesn't matter– Thought I saw... nevermind."

Hagrid stood up abruptly, his eyes never leaving the window.

"They're comin'..."

Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, the Committee member, and the executioner were approaching at a steady pace.

"Yeh gotta go– They mustn' find yeh here... Go now..."

They collected their things quickly and hid under the cloak once more, Hagrid guided them through the back door where they found Buckbeak nervously moving around the pumpkin patch. They protested all the way while Hagrid kept pushing them further.

"Hagrid, we can't —"

"We'll tell them what really happened —"

"They can't kill him —"

"Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

"You're not alone, Hagrid," Mel reassured him. "We'll come back tomorrow."

"Go," His voice broke a little. "Don' listen..."

And so they did as he told, their spirits breaking with each step.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione mumbled weakly. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it..."

Midway up, Ron stopped moving.

"Oh, please, Ron," Hermione said.

"It's Scabbers — he won't — stay put —" Ron's hand fumbled inside his pocket, fighting with the rat. "Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," He hissed, the animal had bitten his fingers.

"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione said with dread.

"Okay — Scabbers, stay put —"

They walked ten steps further when Ron stopped again.

"I can't hold him — Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us —" The rat was squealing and tossing around, desperate to get out of his owner's grip.

"Ron, honestly–" Mel started, but the distinct sound of an axe cutting through made her stop mid-sentence.

The group froze.

"They did it!" Hermione whispered in horror. "I d — don't believe it — they did it!"

"Hagrid," Harry tried to go back, but Ron and Hermione seized his arms.

"We can't," said Ron, momentarily forgetting about Scabbers. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him..."

"How — could — they?" Hermione panted. "How could they?"

"Come on," said Ron, pulling the whole group with him.

They managed to climb all the way up to the open grounds, where Scabbers had gone mad once more.

"Scabbers, keep still! What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still — OUCH! He bit me!"

"Ron, your elbow!" Mel grumbled, rubbing her left arm.

"Be quiet!" Hermione urged them. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute —"

"He won't — stay — put —"

"What's the matter with him?" Mel huffed, moving away from her friend.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione squeaked. Mel looked forward and saw the tiny creature observing them through the cloak. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

"Scabbers — NO!" The rat jumped out of Ron's pocket, and before anyone could stop their friend, he pushed the cloak off his body and ran after it.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

Mel took off the cloak as well and ran after Ron, followed by Hermione and Harry.

"Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —" It was hard to see what was going on, Mel heard Ron falling to the ground. "Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —"

She stopped a feet away from the boy, Hermione and Harry crashing against her.

"Ron — come on — back under the cloak —" She heard her friend move beside her. "Dumbledore — the Minister — they'll be coming back out in a minute —"

"I can't see!" Mel complained. "This is ridiculous– Lumos!"

The light fell above the shape of a massive, nightmarish black dog.

It jumped the exact moment Mel tried to attack him, throwing her and Harry to the ground and leaping towards Ron, closing its mouth tightly around his arm. The creature dragged him far from reach, and Mel jumped to her feet trying to run after them.

Then she remembered she'd dropped her wand and turned around to search for it when a harsh blow threw her five feet away from where she'd been standing. Her eyes teared up and made it impossible to see, but she heard Harry screams.

"Lumos!"

The Whomping Willow stood proudly above their heads. And there, at the base of the trunk, Ron was sinking.

"Ron!" Harry yelled.

A branch hit him on the side, they couldn't step closer. Mel still hadn't found her wand. One of Ron's legs remained hooked around a root in a strange position. She knew what was going to happen and the awful crack confirmed her fears: Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, he was gone.

"We've got to go for help —" Hermione had a nasty cut on her shoulder.

"No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time —"

"I lost my wand–"

"You didn't," Harry handed it back. "It fell next to me."

"Harry — we're never going to get through without help —"

A new branch tried to hit them, but they jumped out of reach.

"If that dog can get in, we can," Harry insisted.

Mel looked around frantically, she could try to freeze the tree on the spot, but she didn't know if she was strong enough for that.

Crookshanks moved silently between them, he reached the trunk and his front paws clawed at a knot on the base of it. The tree ceased its movements.

"Crookshanks! How did he know — ?"

"He's friends with that dog," said Harry dryly. "I've seen them together. Come on — and keep your wand out —"

They entered the passageway without speaking, the dark silence urging them to find their friend.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione whimpered.

"This way,"  Harry nudged Mel's arm, pointing to his left.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know... It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it... It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..." Harry explained through pants while he guided the way.

The path wasn't high, and it forced them to almost bend over, Mel was starting to feel pain on her lower back when suddenly it opened abruptly, widened, and twisted once more. It gave away an odd entrance through which they managed to see a  room, for the looks of it, the place was abandoned. The windows were boarded up, the furniture dusty and broken.

Harry was the first to walk in, then Mel, and then Hermione.

"I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," Hermione whispered, Mel turned to see her clinging to Harry's arm.

"I think you're right..." Mel replied quietly, her memories matching how it looked the inside with the outside.

"Ghosts didn't do that," Harry signaled to a rusty chair, it was so savagely broken it made her feel weak on the knees.

Something moved on the upper floor and they shared a look, agreeing to walk upstairs and find out what was happening.

"Nox," The lights went off on the three wands.

Only one door was open, and they could see something move behind it. Harry kicked it and walked in with the wand pointing ahead. Ron was on the ground holding his leg and white as paper. The children ran up to him, Mel felt her soul leave her body at the sight of his injury.

"Ron — are you okay?"

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron grunted. "Harry, it's a trap —"

"What —"

"He's the dog... He's an Animagus..."

Mel turned at the same time Harry did. A man stepped forward and slammed the door close.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.

Suddenly they were at his mercy. There was nothing they could do to help themselves.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," Black said. His voice resembled a lot a dog's growl. "Your fathers would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful... it will make everything much easier..."

Harry tried to throw himself at Black, but Mel and Hermione caught his arms before he could leap forward.

"No, Harry!" Hermione whispered in horror.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron yelled. Mel hadn't noticed that her friend had stood up beside her, and she helped him support his weight on her.

Black watched them quietly, Ron was losing blood and although it wasn't a dangerous amount, he still needed to be cured.

"Lie down," The man said. "You will damage that leg even more."

"Did you hear me?" Ron insisted, clutching to Mel's arm. "You'll have to kill all four of us!"

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," Black whispered with a nasty grin.

"Why's that?" Harry's voice came out like venom, she'd never heard him talk like that. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew... What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry! Be quiet!" Hermione pleaded.

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with huge effort he broke free of Hermione's restraint and lunged forward.

The boy punched Black– no magic, not even caring that the man was crazy and ready to kill him in no time. Black's hand enraptured Harry's throat tightly.

"No! I've waited too long —"

Harry choked, Mel was pulling Ron towards the bed panting and feeling her muscles burn, she wanted to help. Hermione took care of it before she could, she launched forward and kicked Black's side. When she made sure Ron was safe, Mel rushed over to them and tried to steal the wands away from the criminal. Everyone got hurt in the fight, Ron screaming indications to help his friends.

"Argh!"

Crookshanks had joined the fray; both sets of front claws had sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry threw him off, but Crookshanks now darted toward Harry's wand —

"NO YOU DON'T!" roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned —

"Get out of the way!" He screamed.

Harry approached the grim man, pointing right at his chest.

"Going to kill me, Harry?"

"You killed my parents."

"I don't deny it, but if you knew the whole story–"

"The whole story?" Harry asked in disbelief. "You sold them to Voldemort. Mel's dad died because of you! That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black growled. "You'll regret it if you don't... You don't understand..."

"I understand a lot better than you think– You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that, you did it..."

Crookshanks leaped towards Sirius and curled around his chest

"Get off," Black tried to move him away.

Harry wasn't going to kill him. For starters, he didn't have the knowledge or power to be able to even hurt Black in a serious way. Second, he wasn't a murderer. Mel was waiting for the moment when he would come into terms with that, when a sound came from the first floor.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione shouted. "WE'RE UP HERE — SIRIUS BLACK — QUICK!"

Harry let out a tiny whimper, imperceptible for the rest but loud enough to know he was forcing himself to stay and face Black, to not look afraid.

"Expelliarmus!"

She felt her wand fly out of her grip and saw her uncle caught the wands with impressive expertise. Harry's chest deflated, an utter look of shame on his features. Mel stepped forward, careful not to scare him, she supported a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from Black.

"Where is he, Sirius?" Something about the familiarity of the question made her feel scared.

Black, terribly slow, pointed at Ron.

"But then...  why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless..." Throughout her life, Mel had seen him recovering from his transformations. This was different, something was changing inside his mind. "— unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Black nodded.

"Professor," Harry was losing his patience. "What's going on — ?"

They froze in place when Lupin lowered his wand and walked over to Sirius, helping him on his feet and... hugging him. Mel felt something breaking in her chest.

She never would've thought... He had known her dad, Harry's parents... He was family!

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione yelled. "You — you —"

"Hermione —"

" — you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down —"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked, this time turning to see her. "I've been covering up for you because Mel asked me to—"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin insisted. "I can explain —"

"Could you?" Mel heard her own voice, sadder than ever. "I think it's clear..."

"I trusted you," Harry shouted, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong, I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain..."

He tried to reach Mel, but she stepped back in anger.

"You're a monster," She said shortly.

A pained expression crossed Lupin's face but he shook it off quickly, stepping ahead.

"Please Mel, this can be fixed–"

"NO!" Hermione pulled her to her side. "Don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!"

Mel didn't speak on his behalf.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Lupin said calmly. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead... but I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron whimpered behind her. Lupin noticed he was injured and tried to reach for him as well, but Mel stood between both of them at the exact moment Ron demanded:

"Get away from me, werewolf!"

Lupin stopped, his eyes landed on Mel's, who was deadly quiet. She wasn't going to humor him and speak, he knew that. Instead, he addressed Hermione.

"How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione replied. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted, He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh, then he looked back at his niece.

"You knew?"

"Same time as Hermione," She examined the scars across his face as she spoke. "Different reasons."

"You're the cleverest witches of your age I've ever met," He nodded at Mel. "I've known you your whole life... I helped Emily raise you–"

"You did it out of guilt– I don't owe you my upbringing," Mel growled.

"And I'm not clever at all," Hermione added. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know, at least, the staff do," Lupin explained.

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf? Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so, he had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy —"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry shouted so abruptly it made her jump. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"

Black dragged himself towards the bed and fell on it tiredly. Ron pulled himself away from him with difficulty and Mel stood next to him protectively.

"I have not been helping Sirius. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —"

He threw the wands back to each owner, Harry looked down at his with confusion.

"There," said Lupin, putting his own away on his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

Mel and Harry shared a look. She nodded, and the boy continued.

"If you haven't been helping him... How did you know he was here?"

"The map– The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —"

"You know how to work it?"

"Of course I know how to work it," Lupin brushed it off like it meant nothing. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"Moony?" Mel repeated.

"You wrote — ?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you two, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I? You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry —"

"How d'you know about the cloak?"

"Don't you remember?" Mel inquired. "He'd said it before– He was friends with our parents, of course he knows!"

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it!" Lupin said, acting like it wasn't important. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry and Mel at the same time. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes, I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" Harry denied.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"

"One of us!" Ron yelled.

"No, Ron," said Lupin, pacing around. Mel noticed -unsure of how to feel about it- that she had the same mannerisms whenever something wouldn't leave her mind.  "Two of you. Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin, stopping his walk. "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated and glanced at Mel. She thought that at the end of the day, it didn't sound like a life or death risk, so she told him it was alright. Ron grabbed Scabbers by the tail and offered it to the Professor. Lupin inched closer.

"What?" Ron pressed, taking the animal away from Lupin's excruciating look. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Black said hoarsely.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," Lupin said miserably. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus... by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018​ @vampiregirl1797​ @siriuslysirius1107​ @celestialhayi​ @mikariell95​ @omiwashere​ @tomshollandz​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @reverse-hxlland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​

[talysalankil]

what happened with laci gr/een?

okay so i have an incomplete timeline at best because i don’t exactly follow her assiduously so i only became aware of it recently when she posted a video about it but

from what i’ve been able to reconstruct, and not necessarily in chronological order

the dating thing

she started dating an a/nti-s/jw & al/t-ri/ght guy, this guy. which…I guess is fine in and of itself? like I agree she gets to pick who she dates. it only becomes relevant when it gets pretty clear she didn’t date him in spite of that in hindsight. but it gets really obnoxious when people telling her “hey, you’re…dating a member of one of the worst political movements ever, did you consider what message that was sending re: your feminist activism” and she went “how dare you shame me for who i’m dating you’re clearly all fake feminists and hypocrites!” [note: i’m obviously paraphrasing]

the stream thing

she did a stream with another notable an/ti-s/jw (she literally labels herself “an/tifem/inist” in the description of that stream’s vod). now, I don’t really have 2.5 hours to spend watching that, but considering everyone who has said that la/ci gre/en herself said a bunch of things that are used by people to justify things like tra/nsmis/ogyny. This argument in particular is important because it seems credible considering her own history and what comes next.

the first video

in may, she posted a video with an intentionally provocative title, and…well, the title is an exaggeration. at least from her pov. she mostly means she’s anouncing that she will engage with an/tis more regularly because she feels it’s a healthy way to advance the debate. sounds legit, right?

Yeah…that’s only if you pay attention to the message and not the phrasing. I’m going to use my own comment on that video as reference bc i don’t feel like rewatching it so…

"What's the goal? Is it that only a specific perspective can be heard?"

See, she paints it as a “two equally valid sides of the issue” debate, which…is basically playing into one side’s hands. You know, the side whose “valid opinion” is that women don’t deserve equal rights, that other genders are fake, and trans people are either mentally ill or lying.

This message bleeds throughout her entire statement, and lo and behold, who felt empowered to run amuk in her comments but actual na/zis? Literally the top comment thread at the time I watched was people “joking” about how they couldn’t like that comment anymore because it had 1/48/8 likes and that’s a literal ne/o-na/zi symbol.

the backlash

naturally, people (read: femi/nists) didn’t like that. some voiced that more publicly than others.

la/ci’s reactions amounted to “it’s MY choice to engage”, which…it is. But no one told her not to do that. Basically she was missing the point of the criticism aimed at her…which is a common an/ti-s/jw tactic, but then again, it’s also one she herself has used a lot in the past, so i’m not really sure who’s to blame here.

very shortly afterwards she tweeted she wouldn’t listen to any criticism anymore (i assume from the s/jw side, and yes, she literally used that acronym as a pejorative).

the second video

because ofc it didn’t stop there. her followup is arguably worse, since now she’s acting like “s/jw” (again, using that term/phrase) are an unreasonable extreme who don’t understand “real femi/nism” and make all femi/nists look bad.

oh, instead of say, apologizing for her tran/sphobia (something she has kind of done in the past, but looking at this video, didn’t mean a word of), she came up with her own version of the “down with cis” bus story about some tra/ns activists harassing/assaulting her at a convention. which i won’t claim is false, because 1) no victim of assault deserves to live in a world where any assault is ever doubted as the default reaction and I actually hold to my femi/nist principles and 2) it’s not really an argument to say she doesn’t need to apologize for transp/hobia?

speaking of which, in this video she also acts like she was “forced” to “bend science” in her sex ed videos by acting like male and female are valid scientific terms and not…you know, an outdated binary model that doesn’t work on top of being inherently tran/sphobic. literally she acts like she was doing “s/jw” a favor by not equating male with penis and female with vagina.

the last few days

this is all pretty recent and i wanted to just go from memory but then i figured “hey let’s just go through her twitter feed at this point” (which you shouldn’t do if you like not being angry)

she compared this whole story with leaving morm/onism, which…wow, way to claim you’re still a femi/nist if you’re comparing femi/nism with that fucking church AND comparing this experience with LEAVING that church

she also literally compared femi/nists to the villains from 1984

she reached out to te/rfs (she said ra/dfems but as lind/say el/lis pointed out not all ra/dfems are te/rfs, yet that’s the definition la/ci seems to use) and is now using distinctly ter/f-ish language. also she said a “really interesting” question from that thread was “what does it mean to be a woman without using gender roles” which is literally te/rf rhetoric 101. (to be fair, she did say in other tweets on that thread that non-ra/dfems were allowed to chime in, but since it was in a reply to someone it’s not even likely to reach most people so…good job on asking for a non-biased sample, ms “i love science”)

still on that topic, about a cana/dian bill (c/16 if you want to look it up) that would grant tra/ns people rights, she went “lol tumblr genders” and supported the american use of psycholo/gists as “experts”, which totally never resulted in the abuse of tra/ns people (this one is kinda unrelated to the whole story but since every time i bring up her tran/sphobia people tell me “bitch where” i figured i’d stash this one receipt here, and this is just from the past couple of weeks)

she also reached out to an/tifemi/nists for “summer reading”

she claims s/jw are making out “everyone they disagree with” to be na/zis or al/t-ri/ght (even when there’s evidence) which is exactly the strategy of those groups

and then in general, she made about a million comments about how this was a long time coming, and she’s long been hesitant to “call out” all the wrongs of femi/nism but was “afraid” to speak out. i guess all it took was finding out the goldmine that was the an/ti-s/jw crowd to comfort her?

finally, someone do/xed her, and she immediately claimed (without proof beyond being “pretty sure”) it was someone from the “s/jw” side. i don’t condone that, but at the same time, way to be mature about that reaction.

(and speaking of mature reactions, the an/ti-s/jw who usually revel in femi/nists being do/xed cf ani/ta sark/eesian were here all commiserative and “curse those s/jw” like they don’t use the exact same tactics, but clearly we’re the hypocrites)

tl;dr

I don’t support harassing her but outside of the doxing, most of the “abuse” i’ve seen were people 1) telling her she was not behaving like a femi/nists (which she’s not) and/or that she was empowering the worst of the worst (which she is) and 2) on the subject of her boyfriend, that she was dating a pretty bad person. which she decided to phrase as “reduce [her] opinion to ‘money’ and ‘dick’” even though i haven’t seen anyone say that.

personally…honestly i don’t even think her bf “converted” her. and i doubt money had anything to do with it. i think, looking at the evidence (not just all this but her long, long history of nonsense) that she just finally realized for herself that the femi/nist community wasn’t for her because, aside from a belief in sexual and reproductive agency for (cis) women, she doesn’t have all that much in common with us. but instead of just leaving gracefully, she has to smear all of femi/nist activism past what she agrees with (i.e. most of third wave) just so she appears to be on the right side, mostly because she’s siding with the wrong side.

Okay hopefully I did the tumblr voodoo slashes thing regularly enough that tumblr’s cursed algorithms will not send people my way to harass me again, but if not…come at me, I’ll just block you all like the previous couple of times.

[pen-of-dunwall]

Tales of the Heart, Ch. 15 - Now I Got My A’s and Z’s

by essie-essex

for citywatchoverseer

City Watch Guard

“He taught himself how to read.”

There oh... uh... once was a cat named Ollie who lived in a co-cozy ho-hose... hoss... a house, a cozy house, with his Mama, Papa, Bro-Bruh-Brother, and... Sister. But Ollie was no oh-or-di-na-ry cat. He was very c-curious and... oh-often got into tr... tr... trou-ble.

Un... One cold w-win-ter eh... ehven... even... e-ven-ing, it beg-an to s-snow...

...and s-snow, and snow, and SNOW. Haha.

“Oh, boy!” said Ollie. “My f-first w-win-ter!”

Ollie le-leapt on-to the... the, uh... the w-win-dow-sill, his eye-eyes fo-fol-low-ing the stra-strange white dots as they flo-a... flo-floated to the ground. He put his paws up to the cold gla-glass, rai... rais... rais-ing himself up on his two hi-hind legs to get a bet-better look. Brother and Sister played ou-out-side, thro-throwing hand... fuls of white po-po-pow-powder at each other, their ch... cheeek... cheeks and noses red and ro-round. Ollie's tail swis... swis-sh... swished with, oh boy, ex... exit... exit-me-excitement as he watched them.

“How I would love to play in the snow,” Ollie said, his eyes filled with de-des-desire. “I would buh... buh... bur... burr-ow under it oo... uh-until I found the per-fect spot, warm and dark.”

The cat til-tilt-tilted his head back, pee-king at the door. Papa sat in his big chair reading a book, and Ollie could hear Mama in the kit-kitchen.

Surely, they would not not-notice...

Ollie ju-jumped to the gro-ground and cro... croch... croached... no, crouched, he crouched low, ti-tip-tip-toe-ing his way to the front door where the ch-child-ren would be re... ret-returning at any mo-ment, and when they open-opened the door, he would spr... sprin... sprint out into the snow and bur-bury himself in it before they could catch him.

He heard fa-faint la... lau... log... log-ha... lag... la... laugh-laughter as the ch-children ne-nea-neared the door and his ears per... perk... perked as he heard moo... muh... muffleh... muffle... muffled sto-stomp-ing.

“Ready... Ready...” he said to himself. He dar-dared not move. It was almost time.

The door click-clicked as one of the children turned the dork-door-doorknob, the door crack-ing open a mom-moment later. Ollie star-star-ted to change-charge but stopped sud-den-ly as the cold breeze cau... caused his skin to shiv-shiver. The children enter-ed the house, brus-brushing white powder from their coats.

“The door will close soon,” Ollie said. “This is my last chance!”

He took a deep breath, cr-crouched low, and chan-charged outside.

I let my arm drop, still holdin' the open book between my fingers, and sigh.

When I got this book from the library, the lady told me that this was for kids, but Ollie the Cat's First Winter by T.J. Brownstone ain't no easy reader. I can feel myself gettin' tired, and my head kinda hurts.

I probably shouldn't be readin' durin' my shift, but it can get real borin' just standin' here waitin' for somethin' to happen. It's kinda rainy today, so the market ain't too crowded, so that means no fights over the last fresh fish to break up, no youngsters stealin' sweets to chase after, and no pretty ladies to holler at. Nope, nothin' to do but just stare at the sky... or read if you know how.

I hear laughter from in front of me and spot two boys in worn clothes whisperin' to each other. I guess the rain didn't keep everyone away. They stop, the larger one takin' a few steps towards me.

“Hey, aren't you reading Ollie the Cat?” The boy looks up at me with tight lips and somethin' that ain't just innocent curiosity hidden behind his eyes.

“Yeah, what about it?” I say, pullin' my shoulders back. “Shouldn't you kids be at home anyways?”

“It's a free city,” the boy says. “We're just walking home from school.”

“Yeah, well, keep walkin'. I gotta job to do,” I tell him.

“You didn't look like you were doing your job. You looked like you were reading an Ollie the Cat book.” The little brat smirks.

“Well, you kids just don't know any better. Now, scram.”

The boy snorts, his mouth tight and his face red. He looks back at the other, who has the same expression on his face, like he thinks somethin's funny.

“That's a kids' book,” the boy says. “Like for babies. I read all the Ollie the Cat books when I was nine.” He turns to look at his friend behind him, who giggles.

“Yeah,” says the smaller boy. “Me too. Isn't that the one where Ollie goes outside in the winter and freezes--”

“Hey!” I scream. “Don't give it away! I ain't read the whole thing yet!”

The boys jump at the sound of my voice, but pretty soon they ain't scared no more and start laughin'.

“Wow, City Watch Guards really are dumb!” The taller boy says. His little friend giggles along with him, but I'm about done with their shit.

I draw my sword and lunge towards 'em, like I'm about to attack.

“Yeah, keep laughin' when you're in damn pieces on the ground!”

The boys scream, scurryin' away like rats, and I watch until they're out of sight, takin' a deep breath to calm myself.

“It's okay, Murray,” I say. “They're just a bunch of spoiled kids.”

That's right. They're a bunch of spoiled schoolboys. Not everyone had the money to go to school when they was kids.

I grew up during the Morley Insurrection, when spyin' on your neighbor, makin' sure they wasn't helpin' the Morlish (or the “Morleyans” as we was s'posed to call 'em, just to piss 'em off), or that, stars forbid, they was Minnows themselves, was much more important than goin' to school or doin' any kinda work that wasn't helpin' the Empire win against the rebels.

There was plenty of jobs with the war on, and the factory fatcats was glad to get their hands on any children, so they could work 'em hard. An eighteen-hour workday, each and every day, is what I remember from my childhood. But there was bread to eat and bunks to sleep in. Sure, they was dirty, but they was indoors. I sent my pay home to my parents so they could take care of my sisters and brothers who was too young to work.

So, no, I didn't have no time to read like the little brats these days, but that don't make 'em better than me. Hell, I'm better than them, since I learned how to read all on my own. That's right, all by myself. No one helped me learn my letters.

Now that I know how to read, though, there's plenty around to practice with. It's crazy how many signs they got posted 'round the city, and there's even more than usual in the marketplace with words like “FRESH FISH” “HOMEMADE SOAP” “GARDEN VEGETABLES” “RARE FRUITS” and “BAKERY”. I tried to read them all when I first started learnin' my letters, but now those signs are so easy to read, I can understand 'em all in just a second or two.

I've learned a lot from readin' posters on the walls and such, too. Like the recruitment ads for the City Watch say guards are s'posed to make a whole four coins a day, and Officers make six coins. I ain't never seen more than three coins in a day, and lately they've been givin' me just two. I told this to the others so maybe we could get together and ask for our real pay, but they just told me to quit bein' so smart.

“You read it on a poster?” Jackson was the first one to speak when I told the boys about our pay.

“Yeah, we're s'posed to be gettin' four whole coins a day,” I 'member foldin' my arms and leanin' against my bunk, thinkin' I was somethin'. Like I was gonna start some kinda movement, leadin' all the guards in the Watch through the streets holdin' up signs. But that attitude didn't last for long.

“I think he's just makin' that up,” another one of the guards said from across the room. “You can't even read anyways.”

“I learned,” I said. “Well, I'm learnin', but the poster really does say that. There's one right next door. Just come with me, and--”

“You tryin' to get us fired, Murray? Quit bein' so smart.” Jackson turned toward the door. “Now, I'm gonna go steal me some food, and then I know a certain lady who's waitin' for these two coins in my pouch. You all comin'?”

The others followed Jackson, leavin' me alone. Just a year ago, I never would'a passed up a night with  a girl, but sometimes a man just wants somethin' more.

I'd thought that by learnin' to read that maybe I'd feel better about myself or the world or somethin' like that, but I don't know. Now instead of others makin' fun of me for bein' dumb, my own fellow guards make fun of me for bein' too smart.

But now that I can read faster, I'm startin' to get why there's people that actually like to read. Some books are really interestin'.

My shift ends, and I head back to the bunks while the others go for a drink.

I wish that boy from earlier today hadn't told me what would happen to Ollie the Cat. So, he freezes to death? I take the book out of my bag, flippin' through it and lookin' at the pictures. On one page, I can see Ollie racin' out the front door into the snow. I turn the page and see a picture of a sad little cat, all curled up in a ball, with icicles hangin' from its fur.

Poor Ollie.

But the book's not over. There's more. I turn the page and gasp. Papa carries Ollie into the house. He's alive!

I turn the page again. Now he's in front of the fireplace, and on the next page, he's smilin' and warm, and on the next—wait.

I slam the book shut.

No, I gotta read it. I can't just look at the pictures.

Cold and wet, Ollie had no energ-energy to run from Papa and, in-stead, curl-ed... curled up in his arms, shiv-shivering v-vio-vio-lent-ly. He cried when Papa tried to put him down, hanging on tight to his clothes with his sharp claws. Fin-finally, Papa man-aged... managed to set Ollie on the floor, where Sister and Brother waited for him with two flu-ffy to-wels. They dried him off as well as they could, and handed him to Mama, who w-wrap-ped... wrapped him in a soft blan... blanket.

“Let's put you some-place nice and warm,” she said, cudd-ling him in her arms. Papa picked up a box and took a woo... wood-en stick from it. Ollie watched the stick, which nor-normally, would have looked very fun to play with, but he was far too cold to play. With a quick g-g-gues... gest... gesture, Papa stuck it against the box, making o-rang... o-range light come from it.

“How strange,” Ollie said, tilt-ing his head to the side. Thog...though Papa had now cau-caught his at-ten-ti-on, he was still much too cold to do anything but watch laz-lazily from Mama's arms.

Papa put the stick into a hole be-hind a grat-grating. Ollie had never not-not-noticed that hole before. It looked like a great place to hide. But Ollie was too cold to think of hid-ing there now.

Wips-wisps of smoke and then orange waves grew from the bo-ttom of the hole, con-sum-ing the large chunks of wood in its in-ter-i-or. Ollie watched the flames. They were like nothing he had ever seen before. Mama took him closer and set him down, and Papa replac-ed... replaced the grat-ing, ob-scur-ing the dan-king... dancing fig-ur-es... figures. Ollie was dis-a-ppoin-ted. He wanted to watch them dance, but he was too cold to arg-argue. He lay in front of the fireplace, feeling the warm-th flow from it. Oh, how good that warmth would feel ag-ainst his skin. How good it would be to bury himself in warm orange waves.

Ollie stood, get-ting closer to the fireplace, but Mama st-stopped him.

“No, no, Ollie. That is fire. It is hot. You cannot get too close, or you will get burn-ed... burned.”

But Ollie did not un-der-stand. What was hot? Like a hot sum-mer's day? He could almost puh-purr, think-ing of the past summer when he lay out under the sun, while Mama stood near-by fan-fanning herself with her hand.

“W-hew, it's so hot today,” Ollie re-mem-ber-ed... remembered her saying. “It feels like I'm burn-ing up out here.”

So, hot was not bad at all! Mama mig-might not like it, but Ollie lov-loved when it was hot.

Hearin' voices outside, I look up from the text and close the book. The boys are back, drunk and loud as usual. I have a bad feelin' about this story, but I'll have to finish it later.

But I'm so worried about Ollie that I can't even sleep.

That mornin', the boys and I reach the marketplace and then go our separate ways, heading to our posts. Up ahead is Lee, who does the shift before me. He's singin' a song. I can't make it out at first, but as I get closer I hear the familiar tune of the A's and Z's song.

“A, B, C, D, E, N, G/ haych, I, J, K, elementally,” he sings.

I can't help but laugh.

“It's not 'elementally'. It's 'L, M, N, O, P,'” I almost say, but I don't wanna come off as a smart-ass.

It's funny how easy it is for me to sing that song now. When I first tried to learn it, I couldn't understand it. It was just a bunch'a sounds. How could anyone memorize it?

I 'member first hearin' it bein' sung by a bunch'a little kids goin' to school. They walked behind their teacher in a straight line, and she sang right along with them. It was the weirdest song I'd ever heard. It didn't have no words in it – at least not until, “Now I know my A's and Z's/Tell me what you think of me.”

Now, I was at least smart enough to know that A's and Z's meant letters. So that's what all that gibberish was. The kids was learnin' their letters!

Every mornin', I tried to listen to the whole song, but I never caught the whole thing, and I still didn't know what any of it meant. Finally, one day I just went up and asked.

I 'member the teacher saw me comin' and slowed down before she put her arm out to shield the children.

“Hello, Ma'am,” I said, rememberin' to be polite, of course.

“Good day,” the teacher said. She eyed me real cautious, like she was scared I was gonna attack her or somethin'. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I mean, yeah. I was, uh--” I took a deep breath. “I just wanna know what that song is you're singin'.”

“What song are we singing?” The teacher's eyes got wide, and she looked at me like there was somethin' funny. “It's the A's and Z's song. We're reciting the alphabet.”

“So, that's letters, right?” I asked.

“That's, uh, that's correct, yes.” The teacher nodded. “Um, is there anything else?” she asked, after I didn't say nothin' for a moment.

“Could I learn it, too?”

The teacher opened her mouth and closed it again.

“I – sure. I mean, I could.” She stopped to think for a moment. “We could use an escort on our way to the school. I much prefer walking my students there to letting them go by themselves, but I would feel much safer with an actual guard to protect us.”

I knew I wasn't supposed to just leave my post, but I only had to walk them to school and then I'd be right back. Plus, there was other guards nearby.

“Sure,” I agreed. “And you'll teach me the song?”

“You can learn right along with us,” she said. She took a piece of paper from a bag hanging on her shoulder.

“Oh, I can't read,” I said, lookin' at all the funny symbols on the paper.

“Well, each one of those is a letter. So, here's A, B, C...” she pointed to each as she said it. “Let's get going. Children? A's and Z's, but let's sing it very slowly so... Sorry, I didn't get your name.”

“Murray,” I told her.

“And I'm Helena Delaney,” she said, smilin' kinda quick and then turnin' to the kids. “Okay, let's sing slowly so that Murray can read along with us.”

The moment I heard her say those words, I couldn't help but think how strange it sounded. “...so that Murray can read along with us.” Me. Readin'. How crazy was that? But I guess it was also kind of excitin'.

The school kids' voices interrupt my thoughts, and I wave Lee off and take his place.

“Murray! Hi, Murray! Good morning, Murray!” the kids all say as the line approaches with their teacher, Miss Delaney, at the front.

“Good morning, Murray,” she says, smiling.

“Mornin' Miss Delaney. Mornin' kids,” I say, givin' them all a big wave.

“Shall we carry on?” says Miss Delaney, and they head off, the A's and Z's song startin' automatically as I line up behind them.

“So, Murray, how is the reading going?” Miss Delaney asks.

We've arrived at the school, and all the kids are gettin' ready for the day and sittin' at their desks. I notice the familiar A's and Z's chart at the front of the classroom. I can recognize all the letters real easy now, and to think I used to not know what any of it meant.

“It's goin' pretty fine,” I answer. “I'm readin' a book about this cat. His name's Ollie.”

“Oh, Ollie the Cat. A bit too advanced for my children, but I'm still very familiar with those books. Which one are you reading?”

I lift up my helmet to rub the back of my head.

“It's the one where it's snowin' and Ollie goes outside.”

“Oh, that one.” Miss Delaney frowns and shakes her head. “Those books are always so tragic for an animal lover like me, but that one was especially sad.”

“Don't tell me!” I nearly yell, holding my hands up. “I haven't finished it yet.”

“Okay, okay!” Miss Delaney chuckles, putting her hands out. “Calm down, I won't spoil it for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, relaxing my arms. “Well, I gotta go back to my post. I'll see you tomorrow.” I turn to the kids. “Bye, kids!”

“Bye, Murray!” They all say, and I turn to leave while Miss Delaney starts class.

Time to get back to Ollie.

The flames wigg-led wiggle-wiggled and pop-popped, dancing in a way that made them almost ir-re-sis-ti-ble... irre-sistible to a cat like Ollie. He watched the emb-ers float into the air and disappear as he w-hipp-ed... w-hipped his tail back and for-th, his eyes con-cen-tra-ting in-ten-se-ly on the tan-ta-li-zing fire.  

But how would he get past the grating? He would have to move it, but sure-ly Mama or Papa would stop him before he could get past.

He sc-scanned the room, noticing-noting that the children had gone to bed and Mama and Papa sat do-doz-dozing off on the nearby sofa. So, he stood, war-i-ly stepping forward, his eyes locked on the nearly-sleeping couple. Creep-ing toward the bar-bar-ri-er s-se-pa-ra-ting him and the fire, he put his claws through the grating and yank-yanked it right down. It fell to the floor with a loud cla-clank that nearly made him dart in the other di-rec-tion, but he clamed-calmed himself and jumped on the grating, ready to make the final po-pounce.

“Ollie! No!”

The sound had wo-ken Mama and Papa, and they stoo-d, making their way to him. Ollie pa-nic-ked... panicked. He didn't have much time. The warmth from the fire toa-toast-toasted his skin like a hot summer's day, but he wanted those fla-mes flames for himself. He pounced, ready to trap the w-rig-gling w-riggling fire under his paws, as Mama sc-rea-m-ed... sc-reamed from behind him.

But soon he was the one sc-rea-ming.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” he scree-ched... screeched. The fire was too hot. He bat-ted at the flames co-ver-ing his body, trying to keep them away, but it was no use as the fire cha-char-red... charred his bea-u-tiful fur, turn-ing it to the color of ash. Ollie screamed and screamed and screamed until his black-en-ed... blackened body went still, his life having fl-fled his us-use-useless co-corpse.

The End.

I can't believe it.

“Hey, Murray, you comin'?”

What in the Void just happened?

It's the end of my shift, and my buddies are all ready to go, but I clutch the book in my hand, my heart banged up and all but broken.

“No, you all go on. I'm gonna take a walk,” I say and push past 'em without sayin' another word.

You know, I figured things wouldn't turn out good for Ollie, but still the endin's left me kinda down. I got just as much into that book as someone would get into a story bein' told 'round the fire--

The fire.

Emotion hits me and leaves me with a bad feelin' in my stomach. Why'd that cat have to be so damn stupid?

I curse Ollie and T. J. Brownstone and the damn librarian that gave me the book and the goddamn library that kept the book on its shelves like it wasn't nothin' but another kid's story, just like the rest.

“Murray, what are you doing here?”

I walk into the classroom, and seein' the look on Miss Delaney's face, I let the tears fall.

“Is something wrong?” Miss Delaney asks. Her eyes get real wide, and she looks from side to side, but I'm too busy blubberin' to notice.

“Ollie died,” I sob, sniffling between words. “He... just jumped into the fireplace... and burned up.”

I look up at Miss Delaney, who, for just a moment, smirks before putting on a sympathetic face.

“It ain't funny,” I cry. “Why are you laughin'? Don't laugh!”

“Oh, Murray,” Miss Delaney approaches, putting her hand on my arm. “You didn't know?”

“Didn't know what?” I swallow, trying to keep my sobs at bay.

“Murray... Ollie dies in every book.”

The tears stop, and I stare at her through blurry eyes.

“W-What?”

“The cat dies in every book.” Miss Delaney replies. “That's the theme of the series. It's supposed to teach you not to be so curious that you get yourself into trouble.”

“I... wait a—What?”

Miss Delaney smiles a bit and then giggles, taking a handkerchief from her pocket.

“You poor thing!” she says, dryin' my eyes. I take the cloth from her, rubbin' it all over my face, wet with wasted tears.

“It's the same cat in every book? But how does he come back to life?” I hold up my finger. “Wait, wait, I know this. Cats got nine lives, right? So, as long as he doesn't die a whole nine times, he's okay.”

“Not quite,” Miss Delaney chuckles. “I think the trick here is that Ollie isn't a real cat. He's just a book character.”

“Well, that ain't realistic.” I sigh. “I could write a better story than that.”

“Maybe,” says Miss Delaney. She raises an eyebrow. “Are you looking to be a writer now?”

I laugh, feelin' my eyes dry up. Look at me, cryin' over a book.

“Oh no, nothin' like that. I just wanna read a better story. Somethin' happier.”

“Well, the library's still open. Maybe I can help you find some books you'd like to read.”

I nod, thinkin' of the possibilities—plus maybe Miss Delaney has a better taste in books than the librarian.

“Yeah, that'd be nice. Just no sad endin's,” I say. “And no cats.”