#So yeah- maybe ill name her jinx | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pricemarshfield · 3 years ago

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bite the bullet

A post-season one Vi character study. Read on AO3 here.

The idea of letting go of Powder--Jinx makes Vi physically ill. The beatings in Stillwater, falling off a cliff into the dregs of the Lanes, watching the light leave a kid's eyes--none of it compares.

Caitlyn doesn't get it. She tries to explain it once, but words aren't her thing, never were. She's all fists and dumb muscle and maybe a pretty face, to those so inclined.

Powder was the smart one. Jinx is something else entirely.

A week ago, if someone had told Vi she would've mourned the loss of most of the Council members, she'd have laughed in their face. Those rich fucks had sat in their literal goddamn ivory tower while she had rotted, beaten and bruised, in their prison. Their enforcers had killed her family, crushed her city, taken her from her sister. Vi was Undercity through and through, and fuck any Piltie that thinks differently.

She almost wishes she could say there's a part of her that still feels that way. But the pain on Caitlyn's face had taken even that from her, so now she's someone else entirely.

The wreckage is bad. The tower they'd robbed had cracked; this had collapsed.

Not everyone in the room had died. Jayce had lived, a coldness to his face that Vi doesn't care for, the harsh twist of his expression familiar. Some sickly guy had survived, didn't even seem too phased by all of it. Caitlyn mentions some woman that Jayce keeps visiting in the hospital, another Councillor, apparently a voice for peace. It's unclear if she will make it, but she has so far. A Noxian had sworn allyship with Piltover over it in the now-inevitable war.

They'd gone quiet after saying that, looking at Vi like she was going to protest. She'd just stared at her hands until Caitlyn had stepped in front of her, explained how she'd been kidnapped by the person responsible and how no one was more dedicated to finding her than Vi.

She's got to hand it to her--it's a hell of a spin.

Other than those three, the only survivor is a man made of clockwork who only needed his head. Caitlyn's mom? Not so much.

Caitlyn's dad--Vi's got to find out his name--has been the real champion of these past few days. It's not that he's some pillar like Vander was; he cries, easily and openly, when he sees Caitlyn again. But he lets Vi stay with them, doesn't comment when their daughter leaves her cushy room for the admittedly-still-cushy guest room he let her stay in, helps her run her injuries under cool water and disinfect it with iodine.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks after Caitlyn's passed out next to her, low to avoid waking her up.

"Doing what?" he asks. Vi gestures towards her injuries as best she can. He shrugs, and adds, "My daughter likes you."

Vi doesn't have it in her to be embarrassed, though she's sure this moment will hit her later in like a week and a half and make her trip over her own feet. "She's got a good heart. I'm sure she likes a lot of people."

Caitlyn's dad snorts. They both shut up for a second as Caitlyn shifts on the couch, but she just presses her face further into the pillow and stills again. "Yeah. You know, the first time we caught her with a girl in her room, Cassandra shot a hole in the wall."

Vi doesn't laugh. (She hadn't actually known her name.) "What did Caitlyn do?"

"Blew up at her," says Caitlyn's dad, smile dropping. "Biggest fight they'd had in years, actually. The girl was fine, of course, my wife is--was a better shot than that." He trails off, and this time, Vi lets the silence rest, even if she doesn't think she really got an answer to her question.

The first night is fine. It's the comfiest bed Vi's ever been in, but she's too tired to linger on it, crashing easily and dreamlessly.

The second night? Worst of her life.

Second worst.

Well, third.

She takes awhile to fall asleep, tossing and turning and wondering if Caitlyn's dad would give her a painkiller so she doesn't have to be up any longer. When she does eventually pass out, she dreams of Powder, laughing as she jumps on the couch of their old place next to Mylo and Claggor and Vander's bleeding bodies, higher and higher while Vi, tied up in a chair with a smoking bullet hole, begs her to stop.

Eventually she falls somewhere Vi can't see her with a sickening crunch, stands up. Vi can barely see Powder through the tears, but she stands taller. There's a gleam of pink in her eye, and Vi's jaw cracks as something hits her--

She wakes up on the floor, Caitlyn shaking her awake, saying she's having a nightmare, it's not real, it's not real, it's okay, as she says it's not it's not it's--

Vi sneaks out of the Kiramman house the night before they're supposed to have the funeral. No one in the Undercity will admit to seeing Jinx. No one admits anything to Vi now--best she gets are sympathetic frowns. Attacking Silco? That would've kept her a hero. But the people on his team--

She throws one more person through a wall before she sneaks back up. No one glances at her twice on her way back to the house.

At the funeral, Caitlyn's expression is completely blank. Jayce has an arm around her, the casual physicality of someone you've grown up with grating on Vi's nerves a little. But she bites it back, takes Caitlyn's hand, lets Caitlyn squeeze it until she's sure at least one of the bones has fractured.

She wraps up her knuckles on her way down to the Lanes that night, and it's fine. She gets one person who says that all of Silco's crew has gone way underground, with this imploring expression.

The night after that, she breaks into his house when he doesn't answer to find him strung up and riddled with bullet holes, words she can't make out painted over the walls again and again and again.

Caitlyn has to track her down two days later, completely without sleep and having broken more bones than she has in the rest of her lifetime, demanding people tell her where her sister is, what she's doing, what anyone knows, no matter how banal.

"You know, it took me ages to get down here," Caitlyn says conversationally as though she hasn't just watched Vi punch someone in the chest so hard they passed out. "If you'd wanted to keep looking--"

"You don't need to be here," Vi says. It comes out too rough, too angry, but Caitlyn keeps walking forward anyway, supports her as they climb back up to Piltover. "You didn't--"

"Of course I did," Caitlyn snaps, before she calms down with a deep breath. "We're in this together now."

And they are. Obviously. Vi looks back at the undercity and sees a pair of eyes, reflective like a cat's, blink once at her before they vanish.

That night, she dreams that she's the one hanging from that guy's ceiling, covered in glitter and with all the nails and scrap that Powder would fill her old bombs with imbedded in the soft and vulnerable parts of her. Jinx is staring at her, smiling exactly like Powder used to with a knife at Caitlyn's throat.

"Please don't," Vi begs, even though talking just tugs at the rope a little more.

"You could've still been my family," Jinx yells, smile dropping in an instant to this blinding, incandescent rage. "We could've been sisters!"

"We are," Vi says. "Nothing's ever gonna--"

The red spray of Caitlyn's blood hits Vi in the mouth, coppery and warm, and she wakes up nauseous.

Vi goes back to the Undercity the day Piltover makes their declaration against Zaun official. Here, people stare at her like she's a threat, something Other. She can't find Ekko when she goes looking, the path to where he was somehow different. So she goes back to the house of the guy who's name she never even bothered to ask.

No one's cleaned up the blood, but the body's gone. She sits in the chair and waits.

"What do you think you're doing?"

It's not a surprise to see Jinx; it's why she came down here. But Vi's heart aches when she looks up to see her sister, eyes different, face blank like Caitlyn's at the funeral. "Powder--"

Jinx's hand twitches towards her gun.

"Jinx."

Jinx relaxes. "So what? You want to give me a second chance? Not interested."

"I know," Vi says. "We can leave. We'll make a new life somewhere else. The Freljord."

"Too cold."

"Ionia."

"Booooring."

"Ixtal."

"I'd rather blow it up."

"I don't care," Vi says, too-loud. "You can pick."

"Ashes of Piltover or nothing," Jinx says. "But you wouldn't even kill one enforcer. So I'm good."

"Why do we have to kill anyone?" Vi asks.

Jinx leans in and puts a hand on her gun, as if daring Vi to move away. She should, and she doesn't. "You were all for it back when I knew you. What happened to that spark, huh?"

"Powder, this isn't you--" Jinx pulls the gun up to level at Vi's forehead, and she flinches back before she can stop herself.

"That's what I thought." Jinx says, quiet. "Yeah, it is." The gun goes off, and Vi wakes up in the chair.

She makes her way back to Piltover alone.

Caitlyn's found a lead. She hasn't told Vi, but she isn't hiding it either--the conspiracy wall next to where they've slept each night has all of the crime scene photos and a new map of the Undercity.

Vi stares at the red pin next to the A in ZAUN on the map for hours before Caitlyn catches her at it.

"Vi! I--"

"Don't," Vi says, sounding tired even to herself. "I get it. I don't--I can't blame you."

Caitlyn walks closer, sits next to her on the bed. Their legs are close enough that they're brushing. She takes a long moment before she speaks. "Every way I slice it, if I go after your sister alone, one of us comes back in a box."

Vi flinches. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to. I can do this myself, no one else needs to get hurt."

"It's war," Caitlyn says, sounding far older than she or Vi is. "People are going to get hurt."

"I know," Vi says, and she does. "I just don't..."

The thought trails off, and Caitlyn puts her head on Vi's shoulder. "I wish we didn't have to do this."

"Yeah," Vi says. "I'm glad I'm gonna do it with you, though."

Caitlyn stills. "Did you mean for that to sound like innuendo?"

Vi laughs, more startled than actually amused. "No, actually. That's all you."

Caitlyn smiles; she can feel the curve of it against her neck. "We've got to stay another day; Dad's getting us some extra ammo and some gauntlets for you."

"Nice of him," Vi says. "What's his name, by the way?"

"So impolite," Caitlyn says teasingly. "Not even bothering to ask."

"Yeah, well--" The back of her neck feels warm, more from the person teasing her than the teasing itself. "I bet you don't even know my full name."

"Violet," Caitlyn says, immediately. "What? I read your file."

Vi snorts and shoves her off, only to roll on top of her. "You don't know everything about me, you know."

Caitlyn smirks up at her. "Not yet."

"That a challenge, cupcake?"

"Don't call me that," Caitlyn says, but she's still smiling.

The day they leave, Vi goes back to the building where her family died. Caitlyn lets her grab the toy from the table where it's been abandoned. She takes it with her. God knows what she'll do with it other than wasting space in her bag, but it felt wrong to leave anything at Powder's chair.

Silco's body's been taken, too. Vi wishes she had it in her to feel sorry for whatever her sister's going through; she barely manages to keep herself from spitting on his chair.

"Ready?" Caitlyn asks.

Vi grins. Caitlyn's kind enough not to call her on how fake it is. "As I'll ever be."

#vi #arcane #jinx #caitlyn kiramman #violyn #my fics #fic: bite the bullet

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favefandomimagines · 4 years ago

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Vanilla & Cherries (f.w.

Summary: it takes a quidditch accident to make Fred admit he has feelings for you.

AN: i went through like three different plots while writing this lol also soul surfer chapter 10 will be up wednesday!!

request: @teentvimagines Hey! Excited to read you work. Enemies to lovers sort of thing with Fred Weasley? Maybe it’s a slytherin reader in the same year as George and Fred and they’ve always been competitive at quidditch but when they’re paired in class they start flirting???

The first time you knew that Fred Weasley had an undying hatred for you, was your second year at Hogwarts.

You never had an issue with him or his family before. You actually liked them and they’re family dynamic. It was just you and your dad, your mother having died of a magical illness when you were 12. Everyone knew you were a pureblood wizard but you were the butt of every joke when it came to only have one magical parent.

Of course you scared everyone so no one had the guts to say anything to your face.

You always thought the Weasley twins were nice people. Until you heard Fred talk about how unfortunate it is for you to be in Slytherin with only one magical parent. He didn’t believe you had the makings of being a powerful witch.

You changed his mind when you jinxed him the next day. It was harmless of course and you made your message clear.

The second time you were sure Fred Weasley loathed you, George had invited you to the Burrow for Christmas holiday, your father having to go out of town. Just because you were a Slytherin didn’t mean you weren’t a nice person to those who deserved it. Being a Slytherin had nothing to do with being a terrible person but about your ambition and drive. What a witch or wizard did with that was up to them.

Fred was less than enthused at the fact that you would be infiltrating his holiday at home. When you arrived with them and the Golden Trio, Molly gave you a large, motherly hug that you weren’t used too.

You forgot what it was like to be hugged by your own mother so Molly Weasley, the definition of what it means to be a mom, hugging you felt good. It meant more to you than you thought it would.

That was until Fred made a distasteful comment about your mom. How family gatherings like this probably weren’t common in your household.

Obviously it hurt your feelings. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying when you quietly excused yourself. Molly scolded her son for being so rude to you when George got up and followed you out.

George was more of a gentler person and he never had a problem with you. And he never knew why his twin brother disliked you so much. It was a mystery even to him.

He found you sitting on the front porch of the house and he sat down next to you. You turned your face so he wouldn’t see you wipe the tears from your face but he saw you anyways.

“I’m sorry about Fred. He’s not usually like that.” George said softly. “I don’t know why he hates me so much. I’ve never done anything to him that he didn’t deserve.” You replied. “Don’t let what he says get to you.” George told you.

“It’s hard when I’ve had a crush on him since second year.” You said quietly. “You have a crush on him? Fred of all people?” George questioned. “Yes, but I’m trying to get over it. He despises me, there’s no way I can tell him.” You answered. “You never know. He’s quite the complicated person.” George said.

After that day, George tried to reign in his brother when it came to comments about your mother and your family. Those two topics remained off limits when the two of you would start the not so friendly banter.

It then transitioned to the Quidditch pitch. You were the best chaser on the Slytherin team and you somehow became the captain after Marcus Flint graduated.

Your team needed to be at the top of their game if you were going to beat Gryffindor. You’d never let them hear it but they were good. Sometimes too good for your liking and you strived to be better than them.

And the amount of times Fred would throw Bludgers at you became too many to count. And the amount of times you wracked up points for Slytherin after effortlessly dodging the Bludgers he threw at you, also became too many to count.

He made it his mission to knock you off your broom, letting George worry about the other chasers.

During a Slytherin v. Gryffindor match, Fred would not let up. Every time you got a Quaffle and made your way to Gryffindor’s hoops, there Fred was sending Bludger your way.

Graham Montague, a fellow chaser, tossed you a Quaffle and you were surprised that Fred was nowhere in sight. You took that as your chance to fly as fast as you could to the other end of the pitch.

It seemed as if you’d be able to score Slytherin some points until the team’s keeper called your name.

You turned around and saw a bludger headed straight for you. You knew you should have moved out of the way and disregarded your plan to get points, but you threw the quaffle through the hoop anyways.

“Ten points to Slytherin!” Lee Jordan announced. Your celebration was short lived when the bludger harshly hit your left side, causing you to go crashing to the ground below.

At first, every Gryffindor cheered. Slytherin’s best chaser and team captain was out of the game. But when you weren’t moving, however, Madam Hooch paused the game and ran out to where you were on the ground.

Your teammates as well as the Gryffindor team, huddled around you as Madam Hooch examined you. You had woken up and instantly the pain became too much. Your head was pounding and you were almost certain the pain in your shoulder was so excruciating you almost couldn’t feel it.

No one had ever seen you cry before. Not once has anyone gotten the notoriety for being the person who made Y/F/N Y/L/N cry. Though that changed thanks to Fred Weasley. You were sobbing on the ground due to pain, it being the only thing you could do in that moment.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Malfoy asked. All you could do was let out another sob as Madam Hooch tried to keep you still. A sound that made Fred’s chest tighten.

“Her shoulder is dislocated and she might have a concussion. We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey immediately.” Madam Hooch instructed.

Her, along with Malfoy, helped you get off the ground, your good arm being thrown over his shoulder.

“10 points from Gryffindor.” Madam Hooch snapped at the redheaded Beater as she helped you limp across the pitch.

It wasn’t Fred’s intention to hurt you. Usually you moved out of the way of every Bludger he threw at you but this time you didn’t. And seeing you get hurt gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.

George patted him on the shoulder, mostly out of pity. After the game and back in the common room, Hermione was giving the older twin a long lecture about how much you didn’t deserve to get hurt.

“Does anyone know how she is?” George asked. “Her shoulder is severely dislocated. Madam Pomfrey could only do so much. It has to heal naturally now.” Ron explained.

Saying Fred felt guilty was a large understatement. He felt terrible for hurting you and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get near you to apologize.

“I don’t get it, Fred. Y/N is nothing but nice to us. Even for a Slytherin, she doesn’t let Malfoy torment us nearly as much.” Hermione said. Fred remained silent, alone with his thoughts, but he could feel George staring at him.

That’s when it came to the younger twin. His brother was in love with you. “Merlin, Freddie, you love Y/N.” He said. “What?” Ron questioned. “He’s too afraid of his own feelings so he’s been terrible to Y/N to make that feeling go away.” George explained.

Everyone looked to Fred for some sort of explanation but they only received him getting off the couch and marching to his room.

The next morning, Fred looked for you at breakfast. Arriving early to see if he’d be able to apologize for hurting you during the match. You walked in later than usual, Hermione helping you carry your books to your house table.

Fred watched you thank Hermione as you sat down, adjusting the sling on your arm. As you did so, you winced in pain, Pansy probably asking you if you needed help or if you were okay. Which made him feel even worse that it was all his fault.

With your own band of guard dogs, making sure no one bumped into you the wrong way, there was no way he’d be able to talk to you alone.

When he was on his way to potions, however, he saw you walking alone. Struggling to carry your bag, he slid next to your side and took your bag. “Let me help.” He said as he situated it in on his shoulder.

You glared up at him, but you didn’t stop walking. You couldn’t afford to be late for potions and let Fred Weasley cost you even more than just Quidditch. Due to the anger you were feeling towards him, it caused you to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“I think you’ve done enough already.” You snapped, reaching for your bag. “I’m trying to help you, Y/N. After all I’m the reason you got hurt.” Fred said. “Because, for some reason, you hate me so much you threw that Bludger at me. Yeah, I was there.” You replied. “Y/N, I’m sorry-” He started before you snatched your bag back from him. “I don’t want to hear it.” You said sadly before entering the classroom.

You took your seat at your table, Adrian Pucey usually being your potions partner. That was until Snape decided to have everyone work in random pairs for that day’s lesson.

One by one, he listed off your classmates until he said your last name. “Anyone but Fred, anyone but Fred.” You muttered to yourself. “Mr. Weasley and Ms. Y/N. Try not to mortally injure her this time, Weasley.” Professor Snape said.

Adrian gave you a look of pity before Fred took his spot. “It must be fate.” He commented. You hummed, uninterested in the conversation. You opened up your book and followed the recipe for the potion you were making.

Amorentia was not going to work in your favor that day. Especially since you’re going to have to tell the whole class that you were attracted to the very person who dislocated your shoulder.

Through out the entirety of class, Fred was not paying attention. At least not to the potion. He was paying more attention to you as you measured out ingredients. A loose piece of hair fell in front of your face as your bit your lip in concentration.

He knew you were beautiful but now that he got a chance to stare at you without you noticing, he realized it even more. You added the last ingredient and a pink steam floated from the cauldron.

You let out a sigh of relief, mainly at the fact that you had successfully finished the potion. “That’s it?” Fred questioned. “What do you mean?” You asked. “We finished before everyone else.” He said. “I’m number one in our year in potions. That’s why.” You said with a dry laugh.

“Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Weasley. I see you have finished your potion.” Snape started as he stopped at your table. “Weasley, what do you smell?” He asked. “What do I smell?” Fred questioned. “Precisely.” Snape confirmed.

Fred furrowed his eyebrows and leaned towards the cauldron. “I smell vanilla, cherries and uh, poppies.” He answered. A small smile formed on your face at Fred’s answer. Unbeknownst to him, your perfume was vanilla and cherries and you always had fresh poppies in your room, the scent staining your robes.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Snape instructed. ‘Great’ You thought to yourself. “Cloves, fireworks and Zonko’s.” You answered. “Write a reflection on your efforts and you’re free to go.” Snape said before leaving the table.

Fred looked back to you and noticed a smug look on your face. “What are you smiling about?” He asked. “Vanilla, cherries and poppies, huh?” You asked. “Yeah, that’s what I smelled. What does it mean?” Fred questioned.

“You really don’t pay attention in class.” You muttered. “I tend to let whatever Snape says go in one ear and out the other.” Fred commented. “Amorentia is a love potion. What you smell is what you’re attracted to. Your deepest desire.” You explained.

Fred’s eyes widened at your words, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Well, you’re not innocent in all this. I’m assuming what you smelled was my dear brother. After all, he’s been nicer to you.” He said, jealousy lacing his words.

You laughed at him and at the fact that he was oh so oblivious. “No you moron. It was you. Though after you nearly killed me I’m starting to rethink it.” You teased.

“Wait, so you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, desires me?” He asked flirtatiously. “And you, Fred Weasley, desire me.” You answered. “Who would’ve thought you’d fancy me back?” You asked, mainly to yourself but Fred still heard. “You’ve fancied me this whole time?” He asked.

“Guilty.” You answered. “And I can’t believe you’ve felt the same way when you literally almost murdered me during Quidditch and said those awful things about me.” You added. “Not my finest moment, I agree. I guess you could say I was scared of how I felt about you so I pretended I didn’t like you. Which was one of the hardest things to do because I never liked hurting you.” Fred said.

You looked him fondly as he explained his dilemma. “Fred, sometimes not admitting how you feel is worse than actually feeling.” You told him. “That’s rich coming from a Slytherin.” He joked. You nudged him with your good arm as you rolled your eyes.

“Just because I’m a Slytherin doesn’t mean I’m heartless.” You said. “I know. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He said.

You smiled up at him, getting lost at how handsome he was. And he was doing the same. This being the first conversation the two of have had without it turning into a screaming match.

You were both interrupted by George throwing a crumpled up piece of paper at his brother. “We should really write this reflection so we can get out of here.” You said, focusing back on your assignment.

“When we do, do you wanna maybe hang out?” Fred stammered, stumbling over his words. “I would love that. Just don’t injure me again this time.” You teased.

Fred smiled down at you as he watched you write on a piece of parchment. Never would he have thought that he would fall in love with the girl who he swore was his enemy.

#imagine #imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger

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bbyx · 4 years ago

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ripple effect - part nine

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry (y/n) walks to care of magical creatures, worried lines creasing her face.

You were planning on seeing Harry first thing this morning so he could explain how the fuck his name ended up in the Goblet. But Harry hadn’t shown his face at breakfast. You were a little disappointed, knowing the shoe prank would have cheered him up a slightly.

(y/n) had started getting very worried when Ron said he “didn’t give a rat's ass about where Harry was.” Hermione was nowhere to be found and all your other friends were too hungover to be of any help. You regretted never going to sleep, you and Draco had stolen some Wideye potion from Snape’s cabinet, but the potion made your mind feel foggy. On second thought, maybe that was just the hangover.

The fresh air doesn’t help much at all, the wind makes you dizzy and your eyes can’t seem to focus with all the light sweeping through your sunglasses. If it weren’t for Harry, you would have done the same as Cedric and Nick, who both didn’t bother to go to class today.

“Harry!” You croak, wincing at the pain growing in your head.

“(y/n)! Uh what’s with the sunglasses?” Harry says, glancing up quickly at the cloudy sky.

“I think it’s pretty self explanatory.” You say, inching the glasses down to show him your bloodshot eyes.

“Harry, what happened with the Goblet.” You say, your tone becoming more serious.

“ I’m not sure, somebody must have put my name in somehow. Moody thinks somebody’s trying to kill me again.” Harry sighs running his hand through his hair. “ And Ron's jealous, and half the bloody school hates me.” He looks so exasperated, you wish you could just take all his worries off his shoulders. You missed the happy boyish glint in his eyes.You grab his face in your hands.

“Hey, I don’t hate you.” You say softly, which finally brings a small smile to his lips.

Draco’s blood boils as he walks the grounds to Hagrid’s hut, seing (y/n) and Potter’s silhouettes. She’s resting her head on Harry’s shoulder and laughing at his stupid jokes. Draco knew that should be his shoulder. And to make matters worse she seems to only have eyes for that big Hufflepuff oaf. Finally (y/n) breaks free from Harry and joins the rest of the Slytherins. Draco motions for Crabbe and Goyle to shut up as he nears Potter.

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion, got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much longer. . . . Half the Triwizard champions have died . . . how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

Before Draco could pull anymore insults from his brilliant mind, Hagrid arrived carrying huge crates filled with those disgusting skrewts. The giant man explains that students will be paired up to take the skrewts on a walk. Draco takes a leash attached to the grey slug like thing and joins (y/n)’s side.

“Be my partner?” A voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.” You answer, sounding even raspier than before.

“Bad hangover huh?” Draco says as the creature starts venturing off.

“Hmm” Is all you managed to say back, your head hurting from all the thinking you’ve been doing about the Goblet mystery.

Walking the skrewts was a disaster, everytime one of their ends exploded it would send the skrewt, and the poor student walking it, flying forward a couple feets. Lavender Brown was constantly screeching because apparently her skrewt was “trying to kill” her.

Yeah I'm rooting for its success.

Draco wouldn’t even let you near the skrewt, holding it out as far away from you as he could.

“Why can’t I walk it? It’s just like a dog.”

“Dog?! Have you seen this thing? No, I'm not letting you near this death machine. It’s already burned you once...”

“You’re so annoying Dray.” You say playfully shoving his shoulder.

“(y/n) you can’t even walk straight yet.”

Just at the right moment his skrewt’s end blasted and sent him flying in the mud. You laugh so hard falling to the floor, bracing yourself for the next wave of pain.

“I’m dropping this class next year, I swear.” He grumbles, getting up and glaring at the creature.

You were mad, furious even at Draco for making those stupid Potter stinks badges. Draco was furious at you for jinxing most of them to say Malfoy stinks instead. The two of you weren’t speaking anymore, making the atmosphere with your Slytherin friends very awkward. You took some consolation in knowing that Millicent and Daphne had refused to wear the badges, but for the past week you had been spending most of your time with your brother’s friends or Harry and Hermione. To add fuel to the fire, Draco has gotten into a fight with Harry and jinxed Hermione’s teeth. It also didn’t help that Cedric was now followed by a group of girls everywhere he went, preventing the two of you from having a private conversation.

On your way to charms, Jeremy appears next to you, fixing his yellow tie.

“What do you want?” You say slightly angrier than you had meant to.

“Nothing. Um Cedric wanted me to give this to you.” Jeremy says, pulling out a small envelope from his robes.

“Oh thanks.” You say but he’s already ducked inside a classroom.

You rip open the envelope. It reads:

Picnic tomorrow?

Miss you,

Cedric.

P.S: there will be chocolate frogs.

(y/n)’s bad day had just gotten a great deal better.

You were waiting by the Black lake for Cedric, while everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade. It was a surprisingly nice day for early november, you weren’t cold in your hoodie but you weren't warm either. You spot, from across the grounds, Cedric clumsily balancing a huge basket in one hand and levitating a couple other objects with his wand. You can’t help but notice how dashing he makes the Hufflepuff uniform look. He sets down a checkered blanket on the ground and throws a couple pillows on top.

“Ta-da!” He says opening the basket, filled with warm butterbeers, little pastries and fruits.

“Ced, you’re too nice.” You say giving him a long hug.

“Wait, I'm not done,” He says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a chocolate frog. “As promised.”

“I brought you something too.” You say, ruffling through your bag and handing him a small pin with a gold butterfly. “In French culture, butterflies are supposed to bring good luck, and since the first task is coming up and-”

Cedric’s lips crash into yours. Warm. He tastes warm.He tastes like cinnamon, honey and ginger. He slides one hand in your hair and holds your waist firmly with the other. Finally, you break apart for air.

“I love it.” He whispers in your ear, grabbing the pin from your hand and securing it to his sweater. He’s wearing his usual lopsided grin.

“I’m glad.” You say, a huge smile spreading on your face.

The rest of the afternoon was one of the nicest you could remember. Cedric had brought bread for the ducks and you laying on his chest, finding shapes in the clouds while he played with a baby duckling. Suddenly he stops humming, waking you up from your dazed state. Cedric shifts, sitting up slightly.

“(y/n) what’s your wand core?”

“Veela hair, my grandmother’s. Why?”

“Just wondering if you had the same as Fleur. She mentioned it at the weighing of the wands.”

“What’s yours?” You say not wanting to stay on the subject of your breathtaking cousin much longer.

“Unicorn hair.” He says twirling his wand around. He stops. “So if I put your hair inside a wand it would work?” He wraps a strand of your hair around his wand. You ponder his question for a couple seconds.

“Probably, but it would be a weak wand. I don’t think I have a lot of Veela genes.” You say smiling as Cedric plays with your hair.

“You’re always underselling yourself, you know.” He chuckles before planting another kiss on your lips. Then an idea pops up in your head. Cedric looks confused when you suddenly get up. He catches your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Calm down Romeo, i’m getting flowers for your flower crown.”

“My flower crown?”

(y/n) comes back a little while later, holding dozens of brightly colored flowers. You sit down crossed legged and start knotting the stems together. Cedric puts his head in your lap.

“Are you nervous about the first task? It’s only a week away.” You say looking down at him.

“A little, but i’ve got this now.” He runs his fingers over the golden butterfly. You smile softly. After that, you and Cedric debate about Quidditch as he feeds you sweets because your hands are busy braiding the flowers together.

“Ta-daa!” You say holding up the finished product. The crown was full of daisies, daffodils and carnations.

“Can I put it on?” He says excitedly.

“Of course, I made it for you.” You answer, placing it on his head. He darts like a little kid towards the lake to gaze at his reflection.

“I’m never taking it off.” Cedric says quietly as you walk towards him. He turns and hugs you tightly. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“We should head back.” You say motioning to the group of girls, back from Hogsmeade, giggling behind a tree.

“Well shit.”

Cedric pulls his wand out of his pocket, mumbles a spell and the blankets that tidied up the blankets and basket. Wingardium leviosa he whispers, making the objects levitate. Then he flings you over his shoulder and makes a mad dash towards the castle.

“Ced! Aah put me down! I swear Cedric! CEDRIC AMOS DIGGORY put me down!” (y/n) says laughing wildly.

Draco was in a particularly bad mood at dinner. All anyone would talk about was stupid Diggory and his stupid flower crown. A number of girls had tried to replicate their own flower crowns but Draco knew exactly where the one on Diggory’s auburn head was from. He had worn multiple of those as a child and was always amazed at the skill of her nimble fingers.

Yeah, keep grinning you big oaf. Little do you know she’s made a dozen of those for me.

“Dragons?”

“Yes (y/n), try to keep up please.” Hermione says quickly, walking to her next class. “He says he saw dragons in the Forbidden forest. And Karkaroff used to be a death eater.”

“Oh. my. god.” You say, your brain piecing everything together.

“What?” Hermione says, glancing at her watch. “What? Please I haven’t got all day.”

“Hermione, remember at the World cup, when I rented that property to the ministry? Remember? Dragons! That’s what they’re using it for.”

You can practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “That makes perfect sense. How did we not figure that out.” She says shaking her head wistfully.

“Nevermind that, how is Harry going to fight a fucking dragon.” You say, racking your brain for spells. Another worry hits you. ”I have to warn Cedric.”

“That’s what Harry’s doing right now.”

“Cedric, do you have a plan? For the dragon, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but i’ve thought about this more.” Cedric says, kissing your neck softly. A smile tugs as your lips as you mumble “You’re so cheesy Ced.”

You and Cedric were in a small alcove near the potion classrooms. His warm tongue grazes your lower lip, making you unable to focus

“I’m serious, I can help you if you want.” He pulls you into a hug, resting his head on top of your hair.

“There is one way you can help.”

“How?”

“What’s your favourite type of dog?”

“What?” You say, incredulously.

“Just answer.”

“Labrador.”

“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate” Hermione says.

“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” says Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason. . . . Okay, try again. . . .”

(y/n) and Hermione were in an empty classroom, trying to teach Harry a summoning spell.

“You need to flick your wrist more.” You say, your nose buried in Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed.

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally got the hang of the Summoning spell.

“That’s better, Harry, yeah that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased.

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right . . .”

He raises his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!”

The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it. “Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” you say clapping. He blushes a little.

“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry says. “The Firebolt is going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds.”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come.”

“Harry, you’d better get some sleep . . . you’re gonna need it.” You say motioning at the window, where the sky was a moonless pitch black.

The next morning, you woke up in blind panic. Dragons. It seemed so much more daunting than it had yesterday. The sick feeling in your stomach only got worse when the champions were escorted out at breakfast. Everything seemed to be going so fast. Next thing you knew, you and Draco were walking towards the forbidden forest. (y/n) and Draco were on speaking term again because he had agreed to do her potions homework for the month.

“Go get a good spot Dee, i’ll join you soon.” You say before running forward to the champion’s tent.

When you enter, you see Krum looking sulkier than usual on a stool and Fleur fiddling with her hair nervously. You almost felt bad for her before she rolled her ice blue eyes at you. Harry was talking to Hermione and Cedric was pacing back and forth, his skin greener than usual.

“Hey,” You say touching his shoulder. He jumps slightly at your touch. “ Are you okay?”

“Of course!.” He says, but his voice wavers a little. “ What are you doing here?”

“Came to wish you good luck” You say tapping the little golden butterfly gleaming on his chest. “And give you this.” You say standing on your tiptoes and pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. He grabs your waist tightly, not wanting to let you go.

The sight of you and Cedric kissing makes Krum even surlier than before and Harry is now the one who looks green. At the same time, Ludo Bagman walks in.

“ Ah, young love.” He says, which makes you both pull away breathless. “I’m sorry to break this up but i’m going to have to ask you girls to please step out.” Ludo Bagman says to Hermione and (y/n), who was blushing furiously.

“Good luck Harry.” You say, squeezing his hand right before exiting the tent.

A/N: I’m gonna make a taglist for ripple effect so send me an ask to be added xx. ALSO this is my ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE gif he’s just so cute.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

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

A/N: Book 6 is oficially finished but I still have a lot of editing to do bc I still don’t like it much jsdjs -Danny

Words: 3,387

Series’ Masterlist

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Listent to: ‘Say Something’ -by A Great Big World

Chapter Twelve: The New Routine.

Mel was making zero progress on Occlumency, but she was quite good at Legilimency.

She blamed this on the fact that she was now having one lesson every two weeks instead of once a week, which made her progress go slower.

Thankfully though, Dumbledore hadn't mentioned his brother at all, so she assumed her grandad had kept things to himself. On Monday, the girl walked into the common room and noticed a small group of her friends around the notice board.

— by order of—

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)...

Mel stormed out of the place. She didn't speak until she reached the Gryffindor table at the Great Hall. Fred, George, Neville, Ginny and Dean sat around her.

"We didn't say a thing."

"We promise, Mel."

"I know you didn't," She said. "Hermione jinxed the parchment you signed, she told me yesterday. You wouldn't be all lively have you been the ones to blame."

"What was supposed to happen?"

"Dunno, but it was supposed to hurt and it was supposed to be noticeable," She forced a spoonful of cereal down her throat, just to have something to do and calm her spirits.

"No one looks injured," Ginny looked around the Great Hall. "Most of the people that were in the meeting are here, but we would've heard if any had woken up with their faces all messed up, right?"

Mel dropped her spoon.

"I told Hermione this would happen! If my Grandfather wasn't the one–"

"Your grandfather?" Neville asked.

"–Then someone heard us, someone who clearly doesn't want us to learn," She ignored Neville's question.

Hermione, Harry and Ron sat close to the group, immediately they all dropped questions on them as well.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to do it anyway, of course," Harry looked at her. "If that's okay with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" She asked grumpily. "Oh, how I'm wishing to vanish that silly grin of the Toad's face..."

"Knew you'd say that," George hit Harry's arm lightly.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking over at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course."

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron worryingly. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty."

"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious — sit down!" She gestured to rejoin their tables. "Later! We'll — talk — to — you — later!"

"I'll take care of them," Mel got up.

"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny, getting up as well. "The fool, honestly... are you all right?"

"Peachy," She replied dryly.

"I saw the way Cho and Harry were ogling at each other the day of the meeting... I'm sorry."

"I don't care," Mel raised a brow, still looking forward. "I'm actually considering asking Fred on a date, you know?"

Before she could hear Ginny's reaction, she quickly approached Hannah and Ernie.

"Morning, guys!" Mel smiled tightly, putting her arms around their shoulders. "Come, let's go to your table..."

"Mel, have you seen–?"

"I have," She insisted, turning them around gently. "Now let's go to your table so we can talk about it calmly..."

"We need permission to re-form the Quidditch team," Ron told her as soon as they sat down to hear Binn's lecture"

"I know, it said so in the parchment," Mel gave him a sorrowful look. "Don't worry Ron, she can't forbid the team to play, it would be unfair, and as long as Harry doesn't give her more reasons to punish him everything will turn out fine."

"Did Ernie and Hannah gave you trouble?"

"Not at all, they were quite understanding," She smiled softly. "I like them, they're good... Very discrete as well, promised they would let their friends know but only when they were sure they were the only ones listening, so you can cross Zach out of your list, he didn't spill the potion."

Twenty minutes into the lesson Hedwig appeared in the window seal, Harry went to get her and came back with a dreadful discovery.

"Oh, Merlin..." Mel gasped in horror.

The bird's wing was twisted in a way it shouldn't have been possible. It was obvious that she was not okay.

Harry stood up and told Professor Bins he didn't feel well, and he needed to go to the hospital wing. Most of their classmates glanced curiously at them but didn't stop him from leaving. The expression on his face was enough to break her heart. Harry was extremely worried about Hedwig, and she was too.

She wondered how was he taking all the news, must've been frustrating for him, after being so excited about standing up for what he believed in. She tried to talk to him after breakfast, but the words simply didn't come, she felt stuck, not knowing how to interact with him anymore.

"Poor Hedwig!" Ron frowned. "It's weird, she'd never been injured before, had she? D'you reckon she was attacked by another animal?"

"This is too much of a coincidence," Mel shook her head, "first the notice board, now this... they're watching us, every form of communication..."

Then it occurred to her. Not every form of communication was being watched, she still had one.

"I need to talk to Erick," She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out her watch.

"Why him?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really think he has the solution for everything?"

"No you dunce," Mel scowled at him. "But for this particular problem, he does..."

She tapped the front of her watch with her wand, then she closed it and held onto it tightly.

"I hope so, at least."

"Who's the letter from anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.

" 'Same time, same place'? Does he mean the fire in the common room?"

"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this..."

"But it was still sealed and everything, and nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"

"I guess so..." Mel put a hand in her pocket and touched her watch. She was hoping her friend could make it on time. "We need to be smarter, though. She clearly has gone through it all."

"It wouldn't be exactly difficult to reseal the scroll by magic..." Hermione agreed. "And if anyone's watching the Floo Network... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted too!"

Draco Malfoy was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around a piece of parchment and talking in the tone Mel knew he only used when he wanted to show off, which was always.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered. "It's what he wants..."

"I mean, if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... And as for Potter... My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... apparently, they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic... reckon the Dumbledores would feel at home there as well."

Before Mel could stop him, Neville launched himself towards the Slytherins.

"Neville, no!" Harry seized the back of Neville's robes. Malfoy could not believe his eyes. "Help me!"

Crabbe and Goyle closed in front of Malfoy. Mel stepped forward, trying to stand as tall as she could. Ron grabbed the boy's arms and he and Harry dragged Neville away.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Mel said quietly, so calm and composed she surprised herself. "You're way slower than me even with your wands ready. Get lost."

"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him..." She heard Neville panting behind her.

"I know, Neville," She said, though she kept her eyes fixed on the Slytherin boys. "He didn't mean to be so stupid. Right, Malfoy? Aren't you going to ask them to stop, Prefect?"

Malfoy, maybe because he could sense he wouldn't be able to win this fight, growled to Crabbe and Goyle to step back.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape walked out of the dungeons.

Mel turned to the boys and mouthed 'let him go!'. The boys obeyed her right away.

"He was feeling ill, Professor," She turned around and held Snape's sneer.

"Inside. All of you." He said shortly before entering his dungeon again.

Neville turned to look at his friends in a way he'd never done before.

"I had to stop you," Harry said slowly, picking up their friend's bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."

"I would never let that happen," Mel walked up to Neville and put a hand on his shoulder. "You hear me, Nev? I would never."

Neville remained quiet, he brushed off her hand and snatched his bag away from Harry's grip. Entering the room in a flash.

"What in the name of Merlin," said Ron in awe, "was that about?"

Harry and Mel were aware of Neville's parents, but it was still a secret, much like every thing in her life right now. Harry said nothing, he was looking at her with a strange scowl, she felt like he was almost mad she had decided to step in. Mel didn't care about it, she let out a tired sigh.

"Everyone has their limits, Ron. Malfoy found his..."

She passed the table she would usually occupy with the group and instead joined Neville, thinking he would be needing extra help being too distracted to pay attention to the lesson.

"I don't need–"

"No need to act all tough and proud," Mel sat down determinedly. "I'm not here to pity you. I'm here to make sure you don't blow up anything."

He lowered his gaze to his cauldron, he didn't try to usher her away after that.

"You will notice," said Snape suddenly, "that we have a guest with us today."

Umbridge was sitting at the darkest corner of the dungeon, it surprised her how she hadn't noticed her there, even though she was wearing her usual blinding pick robes.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions... on the board. Carry on."

Mel poured her whole attention on her work, she made sure Neville could be a decent student this time as well. She would glance from time to time to Umbridge, trying to guess what she was doing.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge commented to Snape. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus. Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years."

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

"Obviously."

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes..."

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"Because Snape's a git," Mel mumbled under her breath.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape dryly.

"Oh I shall," Professor Umbridge smiled.

"I suppose this is relevant?"

"Oh yes. Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' — er — backgrounds..."

"Of course they cared about their backgrounds now," Mel scoffed, still talking in a whisper. "They care about their hobbies, don't they? If they have a knack for fighting governments during the weekends? What a bunch of–"

"Mel, your potion," Neville warned her, noticing the way it was starting to show a green smoke.

"Woops!" She quickly did some arrangements, and the potion was back to normal. "Thanks, Neville."

"I reckon I did well enough in today's lesson!" Neville said proudly, beaming at her. "Thank you for your help..."

"It was a pleasure," She smiled back.

"Sorry for Harry though... you saw how Snape vanished his potion again?"

"Yeah," Mel frowned. "What a twat, but Harry should really try harder..."

"It's weird to hear you talk about him like that," Neville said innocently. "You usually are the first to defend him..."

"I'm the first to defend any of you," She corrected. "I'm not going to support him blindly– I mean, you did well today and you were having a bad morning too, right?"

Neville's smile faded.

"Reckon so, yeah..."

"Hey, I know it's not my place but..." She pondered how to say it without scaring him away. "Whatever got you all worked up, well, I'm always here if you need to talk. You're my friend as much as Harry or Ron..."

When they reached the marble staircase Mel remembered she had a meeting to attend, so she said goodbye to Neville and told him she would meet him in Divination. She ran to the very back of the library and found Erick standing in the corner, peering over a shelf towards the hall. Mel tiptoed until she was right behind him and scared him.

Erick jumped, hitting the side of his face on the edge of the bookshelf. The boy cursed rather loudly and stepped back, a hand rubbing his cheek.

"What is your problem?!"

"Lower your voice!" Mel said in horror. "I'm so sorry! Let me see your face–"

"Don't–"

"C'mon, I can help!"

Mel pulled his hand away and tilted his face towards the light. His cheek was slightly red, but it was uninjured.

"I don't think it'll bruise..." She said, getting closer to him. "What in the name of Godric were you doing? Who are you stalking?"

"I'm not stalking anyone," He complained. "I was... Lately I've been– Move away, will you? You're making me nervous..."

He pushed her aside gently and moved towards the nearest table.

"Let's make this quick," He told her, sitting down. "I want to eat something before Potions, Merlin knows I need it..."

Mel quickly told him about Hedwig and how they were obviously being watched after their meeting in Hogsmeade, Erick listened so intently that he even forgot about making his usual sarcastic remarks, once she ended, he half-smiled.

"You already found a solution, didn't you?"

Mel put her pocket watch on the table and looked at him with resolution.

"We want to keep going," She pointed to the little object on the table. "And we need something like this to spread the news safely and with the certainty that only those who belong in the group are the ones getting it."

"You clever girl..." Erick supported both arms on the table and stared at the watch, his brain already going a thousand miles per hour. "What do you need?"

"Well, for starters, I need to know the charm."

"It'll be easy, you're talented enough– Protean charm, don't forget it."

"We need something like this," She lifted the watch and stared at it. "But people carrying similar watches around the school would be too suspicions... and they're not exactly cheap..."

"You don't need to buy several of the same," Erick replied. "Just reproduce one."

"What?" Mel blinked.

Erick rolled his eyes.

"A doubling charm, you goose. Learn how to do it and you'll get copies of anything in the blink of an eye."

"Oh! Okay..." She smiled.

"Tell Hermione about it," Erick peered over her shoulder anxiously. "I would help you, but we can't take risks and I rather not know a lot about your plans in case... you know..."

"Yes," Mel nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem," He nodded, the concern coming back to his features.

"It's everything okay?"

"What? Why?" He blinked, stepping away from the table. "I'm fine, just tired... haven't slept well."

"Why?"

"Doesn't matter..."

"Erick..." She insisted, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stay in place.

He looked everywhere but her, until finally, Erick let out a strange noise that sounded like half a growl and he rubbed his eyes furiously before pushing her hand away and starting to speak.

"My Grandad..."

Mel felt something heavy on her chest and nodded in understanding.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. If it helps... I'm right here."

He nodded, eyes fixed on the ground.

"I know."

Mel continued with her day, spending most of it with Neville to make sure Malfoy wouldn't take advantage of him if he were to find him alone.

Back in the common room, she saw no reason not to waste her night away with the twins, who were currently showing to a curious crowd their newest products. Her mind had started to drift to what she'd said to Ginny a few hours earlier, but was soon interrupted when she witnessed Fred vomiting into a bucket and forcing a purple candy down his throat.

She was still having fun though, collecting the money and giving the Skiving Snackbox to their new owners. Lee Jordan and George Weasley would take turns with Fred so he wouldn't get all weak from the constant vomiting. She was highly thankful for the vanishing spell, otherwise, that bucket would be beyond disgusting.

Hermione would constantly glare at her and scoff, but Mel smiled innocently through it all. It wasn't her fault what the twins were doing, and they were technically doing nothing against the rules. Her housemates needed this kind of entertainment considering the shitty year they were all having.

"Here's your part, lady," Fred held out a small bunch of sickles for her to take. The crowd had dispersed a while ago, and they've been counting their money before going to bed.

Mel frowned and pushed it back.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were the beautiful assistant back there!" Fred said. "Half of our sells occurred just because you were the one taking the money– Am I wrong, George?"

"Those third-years have it bad for you, Lady," George smirked.

"You've become quite popular overnight," Lee raised a brow. "Don't you remember what the older Gryffindors used to say?"

"Oh yes," Mel laughed. "I was the little feral thing, wasn't I? They would compare me to peeves and all... can't say I miss it."

"You were never like Peeves, though," Fred smiled. "Peeves is quieter."

"Sod off!" She exclaimed over the boys' laughter. "I've changed, haven't I? Didn't really think about it until now..."

"Well, you don't yell at strangers in the halls anymore..."

"And you don't want to fight everyone either..."

"I did all that for stupid reasons," Mel glanced towards Harry. "Really stupid reasons, if you ask me..."

The boys shared a knowing look. Everyone knew at this point that asking her about what had happened between Harry and her was useless, neither of them would say a thing.

"Time for bed, I s'pose," George yawned, getting up from his chair.

"You're sure you don't want this?" Fred raised a brow, showing her the money one last time.

"I don't need it, Fred."

"No need to brag about it," Lee scoffed, taking the money. "It's mine, then."

"Hey!" Fred slapped the back of his head. "Give it back! We're gonna split it!"

They continued their bickering as they disappeared behind the door to the boys' dormitory. Mel had a lazy smile on her face than soon worn out as she realized she'd been left alone in the room with Hermione, Ron and Harry. She got up slowly and made her way towards them.

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#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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www-neverlandsweirdo · 4 years ago

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Newt X Sick!Reader AU

"Where do you think your going?"Newt asked,looking up from the comic book he was reading. "Nowhere."Sonya answered innocently.Newt looked at his sister,she was wearing a lavendar colored hat,winter boots,jeans,a winter coat and had a lather backpack on her back. "Going to see a boy?"He asked suspiciously. "No!Im just going to see my friend."She answered.Newt grinned. "Ill drive you then."He said,standing up.Sonya rolled her eyes.Every Wednesday and Saturday she would dissapear for hours before coming home and pretended like she had been there the whole time. "Come on,im driving you."Newt said putting on his jacket.

Sonya groaned before opening the door and stomping outside. "Where does this friend of your's live?"Newt asked as they walked to the car,Sonya got in,sitting in the passenger seat.Newt unlocked his door before sitting down and starting the car. "Where does this friend of yours live?"Newt asked as he put on his seat belt. "The hospital."Sonya answered casually,scrolling through the photos on her phone.Newt looked at her. "Are you serious?"He asked skeptically. "Yes im serious,she has no family to visit her so I do,"Sonya stated before showing him her phone. "that's a picture of her."Sonya told him.He looked at the photo.It was a teenage girl the age of 16 or 17,she had soft looking (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) hair,bright and beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes that were looking directly at the camera,her (Y/S/C) skin was extremely pale,an oxygen tube on her nose and an I.V in her hand. He didnt want to admit it but she was gorgeous.Absolutely gorgeous.

"What's her name?"He asked. "(Y/N)"Sonya answered,pulling her phone away from him. "Can I meet her?"Newt asked as he pulled out of the driveway. "Yeah I guess."Sonya sighed. "Which hospital?"He asked as he reached the beginning of their street. "Gladeville childrens."Sonya answered. "How long has she been there?"Newt asked,turning off of there street in the direction of the hospital. "Since she was thirteen."Sonya replied.That hit Newt like a punch in the face.That meant (Y/N) had been in the hospital for four years. "W-What's wrong with her?"Newt asked. "Uh...Bad lung,bad kidney and now she has two broken ribs."Sonya sighed. "But...she's okay?"Newt asked. "Yeah...she's just on a lot of medication."Sonya sighed again.Newt felt awful.Poor (Y/N),he could only imagine how terrible it must be to be stuck in a hospital all day. He parked in a parking lot that was close to the entrance.They got out of the car and walked into the hospital in silence.Sonya approached the front desk.

"Here to see (Y/N)?"The woman asked.She nodded. "Who's this?"The woman asked,looking at Newt's tall figure. "My brother Newt."Sonya explained. "Well i'm sure (Y/N) would love to have a new visitor."The woman smiled.Newt and Sonya walked to the elevator and got off at the third floor.Newt followed Sonya as she walked down to the last room and knocked on the door,waiting a moment before opening the door.She walked in. "Hey (Y/N)!"She greeted the (Y/H/C) girl. (Y/N) smiled weakly at her. "Hey Sony."She said quietly. "Um,my brother wanted to meet you."Sonya said,gesturing for Newt to come into the room. "Hello Love."He waved,smiling slightly. (Y/N) blushed slightly at his nickname for her. "Hi."She smiled. "My names Newt."He introduced. "(Y/N)"she grinned.She was a bit skinnier then she had seemed in the picture and had a oxygen tube around her nose and an IV in her hand.

"How are you feeling?"Sonya asked. "Well,Nemo was on today so that was great and the new medication is TERRIBLE!"She groaned.Sonya chuckled. "Well,its almost lunch time...What do you want to eat?"Sonya asked. "Well,I cant eat anything to heavy so.... (Y/F/T) pancakes." (Y/N) answered. "Alright,do you want some water to?"She asked. (Y/N) nodded. "And Newt,just stay here and dont break anything."Sonya stated before leaving the room. "Its awfully dark in here,do you want me to open the curtains?"Newt asked. (Y/N) nodded.He limped over to the window and opened the curtains,allowing the light of the December afternoon into the room.He smirked,leaning against the wall as (Y/N) gazed in awe at the snowflakes that slowly fell from the sky. "You like snow?"He asked. (Y/N) smiled. "Yeah,I havent been outside in a long time though."She mumbled. "Why not?"He asked. "I cant really get up."She giggled slightly. "Oh...I-im sorry i didnt know."Newt said apologetically. "Its fine,its been around thirteen years."She mumbled.

"I thought you've been in this hospital for four years..."He mumbled. "I came here after the boston hospital."She explained. He began feeling awkward. "So...Nemo huh?"He asked awkwardly. (Y/N) giggled. "I like disney movies."She smiled. “I’ve been in the hospital all my life so I have to grow up fast.”She sighed. “I really like the lion king...have you ever seen it?” Newt Asked. “No,can say I have.”She mumbled. “Who’s your favorite Disney character?”Newt Asked. “Hmmm....” (Y/N) thought. “I like (Y/F/D/C).”She smiled. Newt chuckled. “Yeah, He/She is pretty cool.”He agreed.A loud beeping noise came out of something that was on one of the machines. “What was that?”He panicked. “Don’t worry,that just means the nurse is coming to check my vitals.”she giggled. “Oh...I thought I killed you.” Newt chuckled,causing (Y/N) to grin. “You’re funny.”She mumbled. “Thankyou.”He blushed slightly.There was a knock at the door before a short woman with red hair that was wearing a nurses out fit walked in. “How are we doing today sweetheart?”She Asked.

“Eh...Could be better.” (Y/N) mumbled. “Better how?”The nurse asked,checking her clip board. “I could not be in a hospital and my mom could still love me.” (Y/N) said sarcastically. “But medical wise I’m sort of okay...” (Y/N) smiled. The nurse put a clip on her finger before writing down the numbers on her clipboard.The nurse then walked over to the counter and pulled out a syringe and filling it with a clear liquid. (Y/N) held out her forearm,being careful of the IV.The needle was about an inch long and the nurse walked over to her. “Alright,you may feel just a tiny little pinch,it will only sting for a moment.”She smiled, (Y/N) looked at Newt, rolling her eyes,causing him to nearly chuckle.The nurse took out the needle. “I’ll be back around dinner time to check on you again.”The nurse smiled before leaving the room.

“I’m guessing you don’t like her very much.” He chuckled. “It’s not really that I don’t like her,it’s just she is so condescending.” (Y/N) sighed.Newt chuckled. “I’m sorry,I feel bad...”He Said quietly. “Dont Be.” (Y/N) smiled.Sonya then walked in carrying a plate. “I got the pancakes.”She smiled,putting the plate on the tray table. “It’s almost Christmas.” Newt Said loudly. Sonya and (Y/N) looked at him.There was a moment of silence before bursting into laughter. “What about it?”Sonya Asked. “Well maybe we can see if we can get a decoration or two for this room.”Newt Said looking around at the yellow walls that had a couple of blue and purple polka dots on it. “I don’t like Christmas that much...A lot of fundraisers go on in the hospital and they make us decorate cookies and gingerbread houses.” (Y/N) sighed,pouring some maple syrup on her pancakes.

“Well that doesn’t sound too bad.”Newt grinned. “Everyone else gets visitors except me,it’s embarrassing.”She mumbled. “We can visit you.” Newt and Sonya said at the same time. “JINX!”they said again. “JINX AGAIN!”they almost shouted. (Y/N) laughed. She began eating her pancakes. “You guys have family to celebrate Christmas with,you don’t have to visit me.”She smiled.

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years ago

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Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 2nd: Omens

The randomly assigned lad for this prompt: Roger

A quick synopsis: Queen, six sweet black kittens, and superstition. Set sometime around 1975.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“They aren’t omens!” Roger protested. “They’re adorable!”

“He’s right,” Freddie said. “I’m as superstitious as any other man, but you two are being ridiculous. They’re kittens, for pity’s sake!”

The six black kittens Roger had found outside, apparently abandoned in a box near the studio, now roamed their rehearsal/recording space.

Which included one trying to climb up John’s leg.

“No, I’m sorry, but you are very bad luck,” John said, trying not to look down at the kitten. “Please go away.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Roger scolded, and went to pick the kitten up, giving it a soft kiss on the head as it mewed. “I know! How can he be so cruel to someone so cute?”

“With all due respect,” Brian said. “You had to cross under a ladder, which scared the man on it so he nearly fell off, which frightened the movers across the street who dropped the mirror they were carrying which shattered, and you managed to step on a good few sidewalk cracks during all of it too...to rescue six black cats.”

“Yeah?” Roger scoffed. “And I’d do it all over again! Wouldn’t I, Mini-Rog?”

The kitten purred, and Brian gave Roger a look. “Really?”

“He clearly fits my name,” Roger replied. “But we’ve got to know which Roger you need if you call, so...Mini-Rog!”

“Brian, Deaky,” Freddie laughed. “How old are you two? It’s just cats! And they’ll only be here for today; I called my mum, and she has six friends who are more than happy to come by and pick these darlings up, to give them good homes.”

“We ought to warn them, when they come to get the cats,” John said. “It’s only right.”

“Warn them about what?” Freddie asked.

“How we found the cats,” John replied.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Freddie sighed. “If you two are going to insist on being this way, then just start working on something, and Roger and I will protect you. We’ll play with the sweet, tiny, kittens, and keep them far away from you.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Brian muttered.

“Could jinx whatever song we’re working on,” John remarked.

“Important point,” Brian nodded.

Freddie scowled. “That’s enough of this. Roger, help me wrangle them. We’re going to go have a nice time waiting together in the lobby for Mum’s friends, while these two sit in here and work!”

“Don’t mind that, actually,” John said, but his words went ignored as Freddie and Roger grabbed up the kittens and carried them into the lobby.

“I cannot believe them,” Roger frowned. “All this, over kittens!”

“I know,” Freddie sighed. “Maybe they’ll get it out of their system with all of us in here.”

He snuggled one of the kittens gently as it lay on his shoulder, purring in his ear. “You’re just a baby! What could you do to them, hm?”

The kitten mewed, as if in reply.

“Exactly!” Roger said. “They’re being silly. You lot are little angels, aren’t you?”

Three of the kittens meowed all at once at that, and they giggled as they settled in to watch them roam.

“How much do you think they’ll manage to get done anyway?” Roger asked. “All the while pissing themselves over these horribly dangerous babies being only a room away.”

“Maybe not much,” Freddie admitted. “But that’s fine. So long as they calm d-”

There was a screech of tires and brakes outside, and they went to the open window to observe, mindful of the kittens crowding at their feet.

On the street outside sat a stopped car, the engine smoking. A man stood over the opened hood, frowning, while his passenger, a woman who seemed about his age, leaned out the window.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a clue!” the man called back. “Should be running fine, the damn thing is brand new! I can’t figure it out...”

Roger and Freddie stepped back from the window and adjourned to their chairs, frowning.

“Huh,” Freddie said. “Well...bad luck for them.”

Roger only nodded, and their eyes fell on the exploring and playing kittens.

---

“Thank you again,” Freddie smiled as he led the latest family out of the studio lobby. “I’ll be sure to let Mum know you said hello!”

Five of the six kittens had been picked up now, and thus far, it had been uneventful aside from the earlier problem outside.

“Could fall asleep sitting here,” Roger murmured, the last kitten asleep and curled up in his half-unzipped sweatshirt. “Mini-Rog has the right idea.”

“Bit bright in here for that,” Freddie said, even as he yawned.

Above them, the small ornate glass light fixture flickered twice, went out...and shattered.

“What the fuck?” Roger shouted, turning quickly to keep the kitten away from the flying glass.

“Coincidence,” Freddie said softly, nervously, as he carefully walked over the broken glass to help Roger up and away from it.

“Has to be,” Roger agreed, taking Freddie’s hand and staring up at the shattered fixture and bulb as they moved.

“Has to be,” Freddie echoed.

Neither of them wanted to tackle clean up with the kitten still around to possibly get hurt on the glass, so they stayed at the side of the room near the door, that had the least glass spray out towards it. Mini-Rog was plenty happy to remain tucked up in Roger’s sweatshirt, though now wide awake, with yellow eyes peering out at them.

All three of them jumped when the lobby phone rang.

“Let me, you two stay here,” Freddie said, and carefully darted around shards of glass to reach the phone.

“Yes? This is. About the-oh. No, I understand. Things happen, and it’s good you checked before you came down. It’s a shame for him, but we still appreciate your interest. Thank you for letting us know.”

Freddie hung up the phone, and sighed. “The last family won’t be coming. They decided to test out their youngest around cats, and took him to see the neighbor's cat, since their previous cat died before he was born. Turns out, he’s allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” Roger said. “Is he alright?”

“Covered in hives and not very happy, from the sounds of it,” Freddie replied. “God, my landlord will kill me...but I could try and find room for another cat.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to try very hard,” Roger teased.

“No, not really,” Freddie smiled. “He’ll have plenty of room and love, even if my landlord can never find out about him.”

“I could maybe take him,” Roger said. “Didn’t intend to be adding to the family right now, so to speak, but-”

Brian interrupted him as he charged into the lobby, and sighed happily at the sight of Mini-Rog.

“Okay. We’ll be okay.”

“We are?” Roger said, curiously. “Are you?”

“Chrissie called the other line,” Brian replied. “Squeaky’s been a bit out of sorts, you know?”

They nodded. It had been a topic of the last few weeks, with everyone concerned for Brian’s dear cat, who didn’t seem old enough to be having such troubles.

“The vet doesn’t think she’s ill, just...getting old, and sort of succumbing to it?” Brian said, struggling to run a hand through his curls. “They suggested we get her a younger friend. Said she might move about more, do better, maybe even mother them a bit and get some vitality back that way.”

“So,” he continued with a sigh. “If you two and Mini-Rog can forgive my previous behavior, and if whoever was coming to get him can’t make it...Chrissie and I would be happy to give him a home. Four birds with one stone, that way, you know? Mini-Rog with a warm house and love, Squeaky doing better, and then Chrissie and I don’t have to argue over who the cat choses to fall asleep on whenever we’re both home relaxing.”

“I think we can,” Roger said. “And you’re in good luck; the last family can’t take him. He’s all yours.”

Brian took the kitten from Roger, and in the process, peeked at its underside. “Erm. Rog? She’s all ours, you mean.”

“Oh!” Roger said. “Well, suppose I hadn’t looked at that. The name still fits her well.”

“Yes, it does,” Brian said. “Hopefully you can forgive me, Mini-Rog. Turns out you were very good luck indeed!”

He peered around the room as he delicately gave Mini-Rog a kiss on the head. “What on earth happened in here though? Did you two have them climbing the walls or something?”

Roger and Freddie flashed each other a look.

“No,” Freddie said. “Fixture must have been old. Finally fell to bits, and wouldn’t it have to choose now to do it?”

Brian nodded. “You both alright? No glass stuck in anyone?”

“We’re fine,” Roger said. “We’ll clean up, and meet you back in there. Why don’t you go introduce John to the new family member?”

“If he won’t be afraid of her this time,” Freddie joked.

Brian blushed. “We both owe you two an apology for that. We were being silly. How many hours were these kittens here, and what’s the worst that happens? A broken mirror, a light fixture? That man didn’t even fall off the ladder, and the sidewalk cracks...I was being ridiculous.”

“Apology accepted,” Roger smiled, then breathed a sigh as soon as Brian was out of the room. “We can never let them know about the car.”

“It probably really was a coincidence,” Freddie said. “Just...a good few coincidences all in one day.”

“Totally plausible,” Roger said, his tone uncertain.

“Right,” Freddie nodded, but he peeked outside to watch the people trying and failing to tow the still-smoking car away, as the third tow truck in a row died as soon as it hit the road the studio was on.

Purely a coincidence, and nothing more.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020

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mylovemyhero · 5 years ago

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~ Crushing ~

(Momo Yaoyorozu & Reader)

“What are you smiling about?”

Momo looks up from the bathroom mirror and smiles at her best friend, [Y/N]. “I think I’m going to confess today!” For months on end, Yaoyorozu had been a crushing over some boy in school.

“To your mystery crush? That’s a big deal.You think it will go well?”

“It just has to! I know he feels the same way!” She was certain of it! He smiled every time he saw her, and their conversations were so engaging. He believes in her when no one else even looks her way. ‘Only a boy in love with a girl does those things,’ she thinks to herself. ‘A boy in love with me.’

“I sure hope he does! Maybe you’ll finally tell me who it is when he says yes.”

“I haven’t told you because that might jinx it!”

“That’s some strange logic but alright.” [Y/N] giggled at her friend’s nonsense as she always did. When she first heard of her friend’s crush, [Y/N] was constantly studying Momo to find out who she liked. She narrowed it down to someone in their class but out of respect to her privacy, decided to leave the issue alone until Momo told her herself.

“Well what’s your reason for not telling me who you’re dating?” Momo asks as she combs her hair, watching her friend get ready for school too.

“We’re just keeping it low key. This is the first relationship either of us have been in and we want to keep it to ourselves.” Momo had been trying to discover who [Y/N] was dating too. With [Y/N]’s lack of flirty tendencies, Momo determined that it must be someone outside of UA. Perhaps someone from Shiketsu?

“Hey, maybe after school we can tell each other who we’re dating!” Yaoyorozu smiles again and [Y/N] does too.

“I’d like that Momo. Now let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She spent all of homeroom preparing for her confession. Daydreaming her perfect fantasy. Aizawa sensei reprimanded her absentmindedness.

She planned to do it at lunch, but he seemingly vanished as class dismissed. She searched for him in the cafeteria and in the hallways but couldn’t find him. Not even her best friend was around to calm her anxieties.

‘Oh well,’ she sighed. ‘There’s always tomorrow, it seems.’ Though she doubted she’d have the courage to do it then.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yaoyorozu enters the library following last period and makes her way to the back rooms in silence. In the middle of her homework she witnesses a beautiful distraction. A boy of white and red passes by the in slow motion.

She can barely contain herself.

“Todoroki!” She shouts loudly, and the folks surrounding give her a dreadful look. She’s embarrassed and blushing.

“Good afternoon Yaoyorozu. How are you?”

His deep, soft voice never failed to set her heart ablaze. The way he said her name was music. She smiles in spite of herself, blushing in front of him embarrassed her further.

“I-I’m well, just studying for the exams!”

“That’s great. I was going to ask you to help me study too. You’re the smartest person in our homeroom.”

And here he goes again, making her head spin and her face heat.

“Your face is red,” he observed. “Are you sick? I can come back next time if you’re ill.”

“No! No, I’m okay! Sit. We can study together.”

He bows his head in thanks and takes a seat.

She hardly looks at her notes at all. Mesmerized by the way he holds his pencil, the way he twists it when he’s focusing. She only speaks up when he requests her assistance. She is all too happy to help him.

As nervous as she is, she finds peace in sitting with him. Strength in his presence. ‘Yeah’, she thinks to herself, ‘he is just right for me.’ She was certain of it.

An hour of distracted studying later and she finally decides for herself: ‘I have to do it now.’ Momo thinks. ‘Or else I’ll get too scared.’

As she works up the nerve to speak, a buzz comes from Todoroki’s pocket. He quietly checks the phone’s screen and packs his things. “I have to go. Maybe we can study again next week.”

Momo squeals and stands in a panic. It must be now!

“I actually wanted to ask you something before you go!”

The dual-colored boy gives his attention.

Here goes nothing.

“I um, I know it’s a strong word to use, but Todoroki… I love you. Ever since we got paired for last year’s exams you’ve inspired me to be better. To be more confident in my abilities and what I can do. I love you Todoroki and I want to be yours… if you’ll have me. Please accept my feelings.”

“No.”

What?

What did he just say?

He can’t be serious.

“I understand first hand that it must have taken a lot to say this. But no Yaoyorozu, I just don’t feel that way about you.”

His phone buzzes again and he sighs.

“I really have to go.” He turns to leave the room but looks over his shoulder at this shaken girl. “I hope we can still be friends.”

He leaves the room and she is left alone to hold herself, crying softly into her hands.

Her whole heart is dying… and the feeling is crushing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Second fan-fic up. Woohoo!

Should I do a part two?

Shout out to my first ever followers on this blog! Thanks so much to everyone reading! Feel free to request something.

#bnha x reader #bnha #momo yaoyorozu #todoroki shouto #bnha imagines #ua #ua highschool #mha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcanons

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badlydrawndrawnings · 5 years ago

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ATWQ Book Three Thoughts

I finally got time this week to finished reading the third ATWQ book, and I got to say, I am honestly very, very scared how this series is going to end. I am feeling a sense of dread I don’t think I got when reading ASOUE as a child. Something about this series is making me go (O.O) with a dash of 8U I had no expectations on what the hell would this third book even hold. This is honestly all over the place like seriously...

This book just got me shook.

Okay, so first all...BERTRAND WAS THEODORA’S LAST APPRENTICE? Holy **** this was one of the many things that shook me to the core. “He’d end up married to a wonderful woman and have very charming children, while I languished alone and lonely.” Lemony Snicket you have no idea what you just foretold for your future.

Prosper Lost really decided to tell Lemony about his family (daughter Ornette + brothers in law?) and shows he isn’t just a nosy, sneaky and lurking in the background type of guy. He has great concerns that aren’t related to his business it goes to the whole freaking town! I get the feeling something bad happened in his past and with a fire like shoot why else is he working the Official Fire Department. I guess it has something to do with his wife (I assume since he has a daughter).

In regards to Ornette, I don’t have a true clear thought or opinion of her yet. Cleo while showing up late got talked a lot for about 2/3 of the books and an illustration that gives me some idea of her character. Ornette got mention a few times, and then shows up at Wade Academy and she’s very gung-ho; willing to work with the others and Lemony who she just met. I like she’s open minded working with a stranger like Ornette is gonna fit in well. However, I guess I have to say her first impression was weaker than Cleo’s build up so I’m just *thinking* over her still. I hope we get to see more of her in the last book though.

Theodora really just hit me with a tone of bricks. I admit this book really made me like her more because damn it, I think I did what Theodora did once or twice in my life and it sucks. So first off: Theodora all this time knew she was rank last? God, that must mean in the previous books those fancy talks of her reputation partly must have been done to make herself feel better and have confidence and skills that isn’t really there. Since she’s rank last it means there’s a chance she’s not well respected -and maybe not well like (I assume rank is a combinations of reviews from past apprentices and peer reviews). That means Theodora puts on an act for Lemony (and Bertrand who was a lot easier for Theodora to chaperone; Bertrand what review did you gave Theodora?) and everyone else to make herself seem better and more competent. Because if others of different standings take her serious, then VFD will start taking her more serious, and ergo, others (work) associates will be all ‘yeah we can be friends 8D!’. Clearly it’s not working as plan.

Theodora latching on to Sharon and their short lived friendship (the nail polish...Theodora may not have gotten friendship bracelets but she went all out anyway, this just sad to think about). Here we have Theodora thinking she not only has a friend in who know how long -and a friend from she thought was part of VFD- but has a chance to prove herself for once from all her past mistakes and screw up. And Sharon reveal herself as a fraud and Theodora is all like ‘well ****’ and despite not liking Lemony, she still made sure Lemony sure as hell wasn’t going to be taken by Hangfire and the Inhumane Society (such is a duty of a chaperone).

But despite her low rank, Theodora just more than that. She not just a wild hair driver, and yeah, this was clearly shown since the first book if she saved Lemony from getting kidnapped. Theodora knew the whole time Lemony was going to plan something with Kit (IDK if she knew of the coup, but she knew something big was going to happen. Did she took him to SBTS so their plan would fail?). She also knows enough the plan got so off the rails Kit is in jail and Theodora was willing to help Lemony break her out. I’m not saying she’s a favorite character, but she’s in a general tier of ‘I like very much!’

The Haines family (two out three at least): I feel for Sharon, wanting her daughter Lizzie back at any cost. I can understand why she felt like she had no choice to work with Hangfire. If Hangfire got Sally Murphy to work for him (she was trying to help save Lizzie this whole time oh my god), then it’s not much of a stretch Hangfire could get the Haines as well if they’re desperate. But she dragged Kellar into it and was considering striking Kellar across the face. She was willing to go that far to get her son to continue working with Hangfire to get Lizzie back. I hope with Lizzie getting found, the family can be together again and work their issues out.

Won’t say too much on Kellar himself, in part because apparently, ‘dynamite hair’ translated into the famous Tintin quiff. Don’t get me wrong, I like Kellar. His situation sucks to the tenth level and he stood up for what he know is right, even if it means he and his mom have to temporary part ways (again, I hope the Haines family can be together again and work their issues out). I totally think he and Moxie will become very good friends (he needs friends in general). Typist buddies are a go-go! But whenever I think of him and his illustration I can’t get Tintin out of my head. Thanks, Seth.

I got a better feel of Cleo from this book, and yeah, she is totally Team Chemistry Dad, and Jake is totally Team Food Mom. They’re the team parents for all these kids and they’re doing a very good job. Cleo honestly rocks the mask with her color scheme. As to the rest of Lemony’s SBTS associates + Qwerty, nothing much change on thoughts and opinions (Lemony is still upset over Moxie’s arm 8U). I hope Qwerty in the last book gets free. I thought something bad was gonna happen to him like Dewey. I feel a bit happy Qwerty is just arrested and not dead from a harpoon gun.

Ellington, meanwhile, is getting more desperate to find her father (she has a picture of him in her music box my goodness that hurts! However, thanks to a re-watch of Netflix ASOUE, and thinking about [RETRACTED] and looking at something I wrote in a different ATWQ post, I have a very bad feeling, and I hope I’m wrong about it.) if she was more or less ‘working’ with Hangfire. Those film noir vibes are getting to real warning levels that are in the red zone and close to 100% Got to admit thought, her and Lemony’s ‘first and last date’ really ended on a damp note 8U.

I’m too scared on guessing WTF is the creature/noise Lemony and Ellington heard. And do I want to know about the honeydew melons (I like cantaloupe more TBH)?

My opinion of the Mitchum parents are the same but my goodness! Someone let them know how terrible their son is and let them know they’re failure as parents! Stew upgraded from bully to ‘part time villain’, knows it, and just got worse. I gotta bring up Carmelita again because Stew is making me think over Carmelita’s character more than I ever thought before.

I interpret Carmelita as a spoil rich brat and bully who got away with her rotten behavior due to her parents not being parents, just giving her too many gifts and not teaching her important manners. She a bit of an ill-fusion of Veruca Salt and Dudley Dursley in my opinion. Anyway, Carmelita has no idea what she got herself into in the TSS, but by TGG-TPP she is ‘okay! 8D’ because Esme while teaching her to be a ‘villain’ and other dangerous things, it’s mitigated by Esme still spoiling Carmelita rotten and keeping Carmelita’s old lifestyle she’s used too. It also help in the TAA and TSS she just used words as weapons, so this ‘jump’ was just a real shocker and showing how Carmelita while knowing of VFD, is still blind to their hidden nature if she didn’t dwell to much over it.

Stew on the other hand, is a bully who has been using force since the first book, but it’s on the low-down side. Now, Stew is willingly working with Hangfire, and he just decided to go all out and take it up a notch. And Stew unlike Carmelita, isn’t blind to what is going on. I think. It’s also possible Stew doesn’t know the major end goal of Hangfire and Stew is happy he gets to continue bullying people through any means, and his target just has to be Lemony. I honestly don’t know what’s up with him and his actions.

Speaking of Lemony...someone help this poor child mentally and physically. This is all too much for a thirteen year old (or anyone). He has to worry about Kit and save a dying town, and IDK if Theodora is even going to help in the final book if she wanted to high tail it out of there. He’s feeling more lonely than ever and Imaginary!Kit shows up again. Lemony Snicket you just jinx yourself about being lonely shouldn’t stop at age thirteen ;_; you have no idea what is in store, especially when it comes to your siblings. Lemony is closer to Kit than to Jacques, but the ‘flashback’ to playing Beethoven was sweet because the two were able to spend time together and this was like, the first time Lemony actually thought of Jacques in who know how long. Now I’m thinking about Netflix!Lemony wishing he spend more time with Jacques.

So uh...Olaf got a name drop (is guess who referring to the game? band? IDK who Q is but, this is gonna be weird with my headcanon of Mr. Quagmire), I covered Bertrand’s name drop...and Josephine cameos.

If I have to put her on a tier list, Josephine would be the middle between ‘like’ and ‘neutral’. She isn’t my favorite character and guardian, but I like her enough to not put her in neutral (and I have thoughts on her that I won’t 100% share here). With many fears (rational, irrational, surprisingly rational but on first glance irrational), due to VFD messing with her to where she has no choice to become a hermit and hide away from the danger of the world and become very safety conscious. Her years of being frighten grew to where she is cowardly and cares for herself more at times (she does ‘scream’ coward near the end of the TWW, especially in the books and Movie).

Once Quite Adventurous (Movie Only), and Fierce and Formidable (Netflix Only), if it’s not a headcanon, it’s almost canon Ike’s death was the turning point for Josephine deciding to hide away from the world. With Ike’s death, Josephine must have thought she has no choice to retreat to her hazard of a home and live alone for who know how long to keep herself safe. In both adaptations, they show hints (and Netflix only; also shown it via flashback) of Josephine’s old life through photographs. Also in both adaptations, it seems Josephine really went from ‘dangerous lifestyle’ to ‘gonna hide in my room please go away’ very fast after Ike’s demise.

So, I’m happy and a bit upset Josephine cameos in this ATWQ book. Josephine is not 100% Quite Adventurous, or 100% Fierce and Formidable. I mean, she is those thing, but Josephine is also rather...Cautious. The fact Lemony even calls her ‘careful girl’ and Josephine is taking a risk to visit SBTS seems both adaptations was exaggerating her personality before Ike’s death/possible retirement from VFD. While certainly less afraid of the world, and much braver than TWW, there’s a implication Josephine is on her tip-toes, as well as making sure where she steps (or flies to in her helicopter). I have to say showing a teen Josephine being cautious is a good way to show how her extremism phobias and hermit habits have their roots since her younger years.

And that’s why I’m happy and a bit upset. I’m happy Josephine’s character is explore and it’s fueling to my pile of headcanons that are half bake for her. But I’m upset because...the adaptations. I’ll give Movie!Josephine a minor break though. Since it came out before ATWQ, I doubt Daniel Handler had even thought of this series and character cameos planned out. Movie!Josephine was a shot in the dark and one of the few things that somehow came out unscratched. I think the film played up her fears and cowardliness, but her photo album doesn’t mess up anything regarding ATWQ’s cameo.

Netflix however, has ATWQ. And from my past re-watch, I can now see there’s some references to ATWQ that went over my head (I am seriously hopping I didn’t got accidentally spoilers *stares at [RETRACTED]*). Anyway, Netflix!Josephine’s portrayed and the changes are fitting to her character. Her last act of courage after realizing Olaf killed Ike is rather nice. Yeah, I know it seems Josephine snapped due to his grammar mistake, but on the re-watch Josephine was all \OMO/ when Olaf slips up on the tamales, so I think Josephine confront Olaf for Ike’s murder and his bad grammar. I don’t want to say they ignore Josephine being described as a careful girl in her youth to making her freaking Sporty(TM), but if I do think of rewatching the show again sometime soon after finishing ATWQ (I started reading the first chapter before lunch and I think I’ll have more time the rest of the week to read), ATWQ’s cameo will be haunting the back of my mind.

Josephine totally needed to called out Lemony for ditching Kit, just like Hector. Though I guess Josephine has more reason to since Kit is really close to getting lock up, all because of two ‘new’ characters: Gifford and Ghede, who also tried to kidnapped Lemony back in the first book. Damn, for ‘noble’ VFD members, they sure suck at their job if Kit is still arrested and they tried to kidnapped Lemony...for some reason.

Are they are on the fire starting side?

#atwq #all the wrong questions #shouldn't you be in school #s theodora markson #asoue #a series of unfortunate events #lemony snicket #josephine anwhistle #yeah i talk about her #spoilers #I guess #this is a text post

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midnightdevotion · 5 years ago

Text

What Tomorrow Brings

Chris Evans x Reader

Prompt: Let me tell you just exactly where in hell you can go.

sorry for it being so late hon! I ended up getting a really bad cold and didn't want to write something horrible! so I hope you enjoy it

Warnings: Swearing, minor sexual harassment,

It was a nice afternoon, the sun was shining and Chris had decided to take dodger on a walk. He was enjoying his time off, spending as much of it as he could with his dog and family. What he didn't expect was to be walking down a quieter street and here a loud ‘What the fuck!’ coming from his left.

When he looked over he saw a woman fuming, fists balled up glaring daggers at some guy.

“Did you just fucking slap my ass!?” the girl shouted.

“cmon sweetheart, walking around with an ass like that its asking to be slapped, its a compliment don't be so sensitive.” the creepy guy had replied. Before Chris even really registered what he was doing he started making his way across the street. Before he could get close enough to do anything though he saw the girl bend his hand upside down straining his wrist.

“Its not a compliment asshole, its sexual harassment, just like this is assault” He heard the man scream as she bent his wrist back farther.

“I...I’ll call the cops on you!” he shouted at her.

“Good, please do, then you can to explain to them why I had to hurt you in the first place, and since you harassed me its self defense asshole” He saw the guy look up to see Chris leaning against the tree, just witnessing the whole encounter, seeing as she had it handled herself.

“Hey man! aren't you going to help me??” he sounded desperate.

“Nah I think she's got it handled.” Chris’s short reply came to the creeps surprise. He saw you smirk and couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped him.

“First off you piece of scum, let me tell you just where in hell you can go, and second if I ever see you do this again, ill send you there. Now do I need to break your wrist or have you learned a lesson here today.” The guy tried rolling his eyes until you pressed down more onto his hand, causing him to cry out and splutter out “Yes yes! I hear you!”

You muttered under your breath about how men ain’t shit and turned around. Seeing the beautiful blue eyed stranger still leaning against a tree grinning.

“that was awesome.” he commented giving you a high five and introducing himself. After exchanging names and a few loves to his adorable dog, you went to part ways.

“It was really nice meeting you Chris, maybe next time I’ll be supervising your weird street harassment.

____

Little did you know that the joke would come true. You were walking down the street on a breezy Tuesday morning. Lost in your own world until you heard what sounded like a million people shouting questions.

You looked over and saw Chris locked in your friends coffee shop, luckily she wasn't letting of these people in. You snuck around the back alley and walked into her shop. Seeing her nod her head at your arrival, on the phone with who you think is the police.

“fancy seeing you here” You greeted him from behind, he turned around and his laugh that over took his body causing his body to shake was contagious.

“Of course, it is my moment of weakness isn't it.” he grinned at you.

“Well we all have one” You smiled softly “Now you wanna get away from the windows?” His face said it all, as soon as you hinted at a hiding place it was filled with relief. Guiding him into the backroom and sitting in your friends office you both made yourselves comfortable on her office couch.

“sorry about the crazy paparazzi” he spoke quietly.

“Hey Chris, no need to apologize, pretty sure I jinxed you anyways. Said id be there for your street harassment.” He grinned softly messing with his hair.

“Yeah...it just it can be a lot sometimes” he quietly murmured. Slowly resting your hand over his in a gesture of comfort, he looked over at you.

“I would say I understand but...I’ve never been followed by strangers for photos. However I can tell you, you don't have to deal with it alone”

“Thanks... its kind of ironic, because that first day I wanted to ask you for coffee and now here we are in a coffee shop not drinking coffee”

“Well how about this, we can get a pizza once this is all settled and agree to brunch at my place tomorrow morning and that will include coffee of course.”

“Sounds wonderful...if I ever slap your ass are you gonna break my wrist?” you both started laughing

“hmmm I think ill give you permission.” you smirked as you saw his cheeks tint pink.

Once the cops finally showed up, you and Chris had left to go pick up a pizza, you sat on a park bench and talked about anything and everything until the sun started to set. He walked you back to your apartment, grinning at each other as you stood in your door way.

“I will see you tomorrow morning for the promised brunch” He softly mentions. You grin nodding, as he moves to leave you grab his shirt.

“I think you forgot something Chris” Then you pushed your lips against his for a short sweet kiss. “Ill see you in the morning Evans.” Shutting the door, you leaned against it with a smile on your face. Excited for what tomorrow brings with the cute blue eyed not so stranger.

Taglist: @patzammit @sl-eep-ing

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #christopher evans #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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longneckreach · 5 years ago

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Lightning Rod

“Sir?” Alumette bounced and weaved anxiously at the big Wildclaw’s side. “Did you want to look at the chainmail repairs you ordered, sir?”

She dodged the retaliatory snap of teeth, and managed to make it look accidental.

“Idiot! Can’t you tell I’m busy?” he snarled.

“You look very busy, sir,” Alumette acknowledged, twitching her ears back apologetically as she dropped to all fours. “I can tell you’re taking the guards their dinner and I wouldn’t want to annoy you later, when you’re off-duty and trying to relax. So I thought, maybe you might want to get it over with now, instead of—”

His sickle claw twitched, and she cut herself off with a polite cringe.

“You did say you’d be very angry if you had to wait longer than tonight,” she whispered.

“Fine.” The Wildclaw set his heavy pail of stew down with ill grace. “Get it fast.”

“Yes sir, right away sir.” Alumette bobbed her head so fast she gave herself motion sickness. “Oh! Here, sir.” She grabbed the stained leather tarp covering her materials and hauled it over the top of the bucket. “To keep the dust out.”

He didn’t react except to roll his eyes, and followed her to the back of her little unofficial area. Alumette didn’t have a space of her own, exactly; she was a prisoner, really a slave in everything but name. But since they’d started to view her as a convenient source of small repairs she’d found it useful to have a central location where they could usually count on finding her; it made them less angry when they finally did.

Her “spot” was—okay, it was actually what had once been the trash pit. Slightly to the right of, to be precise. That way she could scavenge and salvage whatever got thrown out in order to make her repairs. It was nearer the warmth of the cooking fires than she would ever otherwise have been able to get, too—the smell wasn’t so bad once you got used to it.

(That was a lie. The smell never got better. But she didn’t freeze to death either, and nobody wanted to spend much time loitering near her, so it served a purpose. She really, really wanted a long shower.)

It wasn’t a large space, but it let her keep her materials and projects organized and accessible. So it was very easy to find the chainmail tunic she’d been repairing for the Wildclaw whose name she couldn’t remember.

Impatient, he used a wing to push her aside and shook it out.

“You said there wasn’t enough darksteel to replace the broken links,” he snapped immediately.

Alumette’s ears pricked forward, eager despite herself. “There wasn’t, sir,” she said. “See? Look closer. I didn’t have darksteel, but I was able to find the materials for Mr Bladewing to blacken standard steel. It’s not a perfect match, but I thought you might like it better.”

“Cosmetic,” the Wildclaw grunted, but he seemed less angry already. “Not worth the time you wasted on it.”

“I managed to collect the reagents before Mr Bladewing reached your tunic in his queue,” Alumette assured him. “I know your time is very valuable. Are there any issues with the stitching where the mail connects to the leather? I reinforced the seam with shed Imperial antler, but some people don’t like the added bulk.”

The Wildclaw felt along the reinforcements, but it was clearly just for show. “Good enough. Not just a pretty face. Gods know you’ve had the time to do it right, though. Take it to my tent.” He gave a vicious, mocking grin. “Feel free to wait there.”

“Yes, sir.” Alumette wavered. “Sir, would you like to take it now? I could take the dinner pail out to the Pit. Then you could be finished for the evening.”

She got a hard, suspicious look. “Yeah? And what’s got you so accommodating, brat? Carrying secrets? Weapons? You stay away from the other prisoners unless you want to join them for good. You’ve got no reason to be near the Pit, your meatshield’s not there. And he won’t be again, either.”

Alumette allowed her pain to show as she shrank away.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that I know my brother isn’t coming back.”

He bared his teeth at her. “I knew you were up to something. It’ll go worse for you if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“I just…” She let her voice tremble. “I’m going to need all the friends I can get.”

One of the other guards had said that to her once. A different Wildclaw. But they were all pretty much the same.

What mattered was that her lie worked. The guard’s suspicion faded into derisive amusement, which was exactly what she wanted.

She tilted her ears forward, looking up at him hopefully. “I’ve heard the guards complaining about that delivery, sir. I know it’s long and boring. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? You could eat early yourself and relax. Or—or I could bring dinner to the Pit, and then—if you wanted me to bring you your armor afterward, so you...wouldn’t have to carry it…”

The Wildclaw got that glint in his eye again, baring his teeth in a way somehow less friendly than a growl. “Subtle. I won’t give you protection, lightning rod. Bring that armor tonight anyway, unless you want to make enemies instead of friends. And take the pail out to the guards, if you can even lift it.”

Pretending to miss the viciousness under the words, Alumette brightened and twitched her head in some kind of salute.

She dove under the nearest corner of the tarp, and prayed.

This was the hard part. Oh, not the slight-of-hand; she was a tinkerer, anything that required clever paw work was second nature. And not the design, either, that had been easy. The hard part was deciding which deity to pray to.

In the end she prayed quickly to the Stormcatcher, because she was born under his mark, and because her entire plan hinged on the mass of wires and junk contained in a pilfered slop bucket that no one but her would ever have noticed, tucked under its filthy weatherproof tarp next to the garbage pit. And the wooden bowl she’d fitted perfectly inside it, a false top hiding her Plan inside.

(She made a point of grabbing the full dinner pail between her teeth, so that as she lifted, the Wildclaw would see her holding it; so that, as she turned and the tarp fell back into place, she would create a tent effect with her horns, where no one could see exactly what she was doing. She had planned this. She had done a lot of thinking.)

She prayed to the Shadowbinder, for just a few seconds of cover in which to pull off the kind of trick she’d never attempted before, the kind of acting she’d never needed to be good at.

(With the tent hiding her actions, she quickly set the pail down and flicked her tail, sending a basket of odds and ends rolling. Just loud enough to be audible, she mumbled, “ow.” In the few seconds in which her observer would assume she was tending a bruise, she grabbed a ladle she’d hidden and tipped the top fourth of the stew into the false top of the Plan.)

To the Windsinger, the god of freedom. The Arcanist, because he knew her brother, and also because she was going to do something flashy and really stupid and he seemed relevant.

(She left the dinner pail tucked between two crates where it wouldn’t leave a silhouette, and dragged the Plan, now overflowing with stew, back into the sunlight.)

And one final prayer—in the part of her mind not whirring and sparking and calculating how to pull this off, she called to the Plaguebringer.

Part of that was just polite, after all—Alumette was on her land. But she was also pinioned and hungry and scared, and she didn’t want to die. Alumette didn’t really pay much attention to religion, but she did remember what other people told her. And she’d heard from Plague dragons in the past that their goddess might be ugly and vicious, but she was also the patron of dragons who wanted to survive and were willing to fight for it with everything they had.

Hello, ma’am, she thought awkwardly as she maneuvered the Plan out from under the tarp. I don’t know if we’ve met, but I’m trying very hard, and so is my brother. I don’t think you really help people, exactly. But if I’m wrong, I could use some help. I know I’m not really one of yours, though, and some of these dragons are. I really do think I’m fighting harder than they are. They’re awfully lazy, ma’am, no offense. If you just could please not help them, I won’t ask you to help me, if that sounds fair. I really think I can do this on my own. I just need a chance.

She managed to extract herself from the Wildclaw guard without him noticing anything, and began the long walk toward the Pit as the sun went down.

Belatedly, she remembered her manners, and thought in the vague direction of the Wyrmwound: Thank you for your consideration.

From there, the Plan went...well. She was trying not to jinx anything.

It was actually pretty simple to talk her way around the Pit.

The first pair of guards were the toughest; they were the ones positioned at the controls to lower the bridge into the arena, without which nobody could get out, so they had to be smart and observant. And she wasn’t a good actor, so she didn’t try to lie to them. She just asked them, politely, whether they wanted the good stew or if they wanted to eat right away.

They hassled her over it, of course; but she just blinked in feigned surprise and said she didn’t mean to annoy them, ma’am, sir. It’s just that (and cue hunched shoulders, rapid blinking) I got clawed really bad last week for offering the head guards the first serving instead of saving them for last, ma’am. I know it’s hotter now, but the really good meat settles near the bottom as it gets stirred by serving it out, so the last servings are better. I’m not disrespectful ma’am, I swear, I just didn’t know until last week so now I ask.

She’d been prepared for either answer, but it was still a relief when—always looking to get one over on each other—they fell for it and said they’d wait.

The next guard she actually knew; he was the one who kept dropping all those hints about protection and friends that made her scales want to crawl off her body to get away from him. For that one, she dropped her eyes shyly and claimed to be giving him a bigger portion. He was willing enough to believe it.

Aluetted tugged hastily at the cape of the next guard in the rotation, hastily whispering, “Don’t take any. I saw Spinner put something in it when she heard Erund was out here. I tried to tell Adder but she said she’d—just please don’t take any, they’ll blame me!”

And so it went. About halfway around, the guards in the rotation started to notice the pail was still full, and Alumette could stop trying to act, which was a relief. She could just look anxious and unhappy, which was very easy right now in the current moment all things considered, and tell them she didn’t know what was going on but when she told the shift leaders what the stew was they refused to eat it, which was weird, and I don’t know why they laughed when I said I’d see if the others wanted any, that was weird too...but there’s plenty of it, if you maybe want a double portion?

For some reason, none of them were taking her up on it.

And all around the Pit, getting easier and easier as it got dark, unnoticed beneath a Spiral’s tangled body and Alumette’s own restlessness and the clink and flash of her chains, a copper wire spooled from the bottom of her slop barrel.

She’d carefully tarnished and blackened the first several hundred yards of it, so that no light would glint off the surface in her wake, counting on sunset to save her later on. Carrying the pail between her teeth gave her a few precious seconds to tug the slack loose with her paws, and trample the wire into the dust with her hind feet. So far, so good. So far no one had seen it. She’d found that if she kept talking, and moving, and generally being blindingly bright and also nervous, people didn’t notice what was happening near her feet.

Maybe she shouldn’t be a clockmaker, Alumette thought idly as she circled the Pit. Maybe she should be a thief! That would be funny. Aspis probably wouldn’t think so, but she could make him laugh about it if she tried.

If he came back.

No time to worry about that. She was almost back to where she’d started.

The extreme end of the thin copper wire she’d been laying had been kicked under the shift lead’s tail, with a black iron fishhook on one end. Alumette wasn’t exactly a talented fisherdragon, but she didn’t have to aim very well. It had snagged on the chain for the bridge pulleys. From there, she’d been following close along the edge of the arena where she could wrap her wire around the pegs where the jagged net over the arena was anchored to the earth.

“Hi!” she called, setting the pail down about fifty feet from the shift leaders. Carefully, she moved her paws from the rubber-padded handle and placed them against the bare iron bands running down the sides. “I saved you guys some of the big pieces!”

“You better have!” The reply wasn’t angry or aggressive, but it wasn’t quite joking either. “Never doing this again, I’m starving. There can’t be that much of a difference in the taste.”

“Get over here, lightning rod,” her partner agreed. “Or I’m taking a bite out of you, too!”

“Yes, sir,” Alumette chirped. “Just a minute. It’s still heavy, I think there’s a lot of marrow in these bones.”

The promise of a rich treat won her patience for the last few, precious seconds.

Alumette was a Lightning child by birth; but she’d never gotten any magical training. She could call up her element, of course, but not with any real power or consistency.

That was what engineering was for.

Electricity crackled along her spine, from the tips of her horns down along her wings and racing along the ridge of her back. A lot of it, too much, discharged from her tailtip. But more than enough power raced through her claws and into the iron bands of the slop bucket.

And from there, into the jumble of metal, wires, a silver bracelet she’d slipped from the pocket of a waistcoat she’d been set to mend, several feet of chain, and an only-slightly-rusted metal spring from a discarded mech that she’d spent the past week turning into a rudimentary, unstable electromagnet.

For a few terrifying seconds, there was nothing but a low, uninspiring hum.

And then copper wire began to glow.

#flight rising #flight rising lore #fr lore #lore event #we are getting SO close to the conclusion of the whole Marrow Massacre event #I'm excited #I mean the raid was definitely the high point!#but this is sort of a second spike

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emospritelet · 5 years ago

Text

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9][Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

AO3 link

Last time in the present, Weaver opened up a new investigation into what Lacey could be mixed up in. Centre of operations: Nolan's garage.

Present Day

Weaver ran his eyes over the whiteboard again, pausing to take a slurp of beer.

“How are things going with Lacey, anyway?” asked Nolan, and he growled something, running a hand over his chin in frustration.

“I don’t bloody know,” he sighed. “I suggested spending some time together this weekend. She didn’t say no, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m kidding myself, trying to make it work, and sometimes it’s like I can see glimpses of the old Lacey. Sometimes I think she still loves me.”

“I don’t think she ever stopped,” said Nolan gently. “I’m sure it’s just - whatever this threat to her is. Nothing else.”

Weaver shrugged again, and took another drink.

“You know, you guys can always borrow our cabin again, if you want to get away for a few days,” added Nolan and Weaver gave him a wry smile.

“What, a second honeymoon?” he said. “I don’t think we’re ready for that, but thanks for the offer. I need to work out what the hell has her so scared. If I can find that out, and fucking deal with it so it can’t hurt her again, maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe.”

“What about asking Fa to help out?” asked Nolan.

Weaver shook his head.

“I don’t want her involved,” he said. “It’s not as though there’s a case to crack, unless you count Heller’s murder.”

“You think she’d care about that?”

Weaver eyed him.

“She’s even more of a stickler for the rules than you were,” he said. “Good detective, though.”

“Exactly. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes…”

Weaver shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know where I’m gonna end up by following these threads,” he sighed, gesturing at the whiteboard. “Could be nothing. Could be a massive pile of shit’s about to drop on me, and if that’s the case, I don’t want it landing on her too. If this is something that brings me down, I don’t want her taking a fall with me.”

“She’d want to help,” insisted Nolan, and Weaver shook his head, rolling the board marker between his fingers.

“I won’t do it,” he said shortly. “Not again.”

Nolan sighed, the wheels on his chair squeaking as he moved nearer.

“Look, man,” he said gently. “Would you stop blaming yourself for what happened to me? I didn’t have to follow you in there that night. It wasn’t your fault, any more than it was my fault, okay?”

Weaver was silent, and Nolan shook his head.

“Fa would want to help,” he said again. “She’s gonna kick your ass if she finds out you put yourself in danger without telling her about it.”

“Who says I’m in danger?” asked Weaver impatiently. “At the moment all I have is - is a bloody whiteboard! A whiteboard filled with loose connections that don’t even make sense!”

“So let’s make some sense of a few of them,” suggested Nolan. “You did say we needed a bottom feeder. How about we go and call on a rat?”

Weaver raised an eyebrow.

“Hamelin, you mean?” he asked. “I suppose the little shit’s due a visit. I’ve been paying him to keep his eyes open, but I’ve had nothing useful out of him in weeks.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Weaver stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“Snow would kill me.”

“She wouldn’t! Besides, she asked me to go fetch some takeout in time for her getting back with Neal. If we left now, and we happened to take a detour…”

“I am not taking you on an expedition to interrogate an informant!” snapped Weaver.

“I’m just saying we head down to the bars he hangs out in and get a drink,” said Nolan easily. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Well, now you’ve fucking jinxed it. We’re both dead.”

“Come on, let me live a little!”

“I’d prefer to let you live a lot.”

“Weaver, come on,” pressed Nolan. “Just this once! We can do the old ‘good cop bad cop’ routine.”

Weaver sighed heavily, fixing him with a flat stare.

“If you get killed, they’d better shoot me too, because if Snow gets to me I doubt I’ll have a quick death.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Nolan took the unfinished beer from him. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

Rain was starting to fall again as Weaver entered the bar, trickling down inside his collar and making him shiver. At six-fifty it was relatively quiet, a large screen blasting out highlights of a football game with the few customers eyeing it over their beers. Weaver’s mouth flattened as he spied a small, thin man turn away from the bar and walk swiftly to the rear. He followed, fists opening and clenching, and the man quickened his pace until he was almost running. The rear door squeaked open under his hurried shove, and Weaver heard a muffled cry of surprise and pain. Heading through the door into a narrow alleyway, he could see the man sprawled on the ground with Nolan’s large hand twisted in his collar.

“Sorry about that, friend,” said Nolan genially. “Didn’t see you there. This chair’s a bitch to manoeuvre.”

“Let me go, you asshole!” snapped the little man. “You touch me and you’re fucking dead meat! I know people, you got me?”

“Alright, give him here,” said Weaver, in a bored voice. “Hamelin, get your arse up before I fucking drag you.”

Hamelin gave him an ingratiating smile, somewhat spoiled by the missing tooth on his upper jaw. He was a hollow-cheeked, rat-faced man with a long nose and thin dark hair, and he squawked a little as Weaver hauled him upright by the lapels of his leather jacket and shoved him against the wall.

“W-Weaver!” he said, his voice high with anxiety. “I - I didn’t realise it was you!”

“Bollocks,” said Weaver, in a flat tone. “Where’ve you been hiding? I’ve had nothing out of you in fucking weeks. Do you think you can take my money and just piss it up the wall?”

“Hey, if there was something going on I’d tell you in a second!” protested Hamelin. “But it’s been real quiet around here lately, and—”

“I just raided a fucking meth lab earlier today, don’t fucking lie to me!” snapped Weaver. “That has to have caused some gossip amongst the fucking scum you like to drink with.”

“Well, I’m not saying you’re making Seattle’s top ten of favourite cops in this place, but—”

“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here,” interrupted Weaver. “I need some info on someone in town. Someone new.”

Hamelin glanced rapidly from left to right, as though checking they were still alone.

“Who?” he asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” said Weaver, cursing his lack of solid facts as Hamelin curled his lip in derision.

“Is this a joke? You want me to tell you about someone but you don’t know who?”

“Someone who turned up maybe four months ago,” said Weaver, using as accurate a date as he could. “Maybe they stayed around, maybe not, but if not, they’re at least visiting regularly.”

“Someone big enough to scare your usual drinking buddies,” added Nolan, and Hamelin eyed him for a moment before shrugging.

“I - I have no idea who you could mean.”

“You know, for an informant you’re remarkably ill-fucking-informed.”

“Weaver, you’re killing me…”

“Not at the moment I’m not,” said Weaver coldly. “But all that could easily change, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Come on, man!” Hamelin spread his hands in protest. “I have to walk these streets when we’re done!”

“I’m not asking you to bloody well spy on them for me!” snapped Weaver.

“All we need is a name and description,” added Nolan. “We can take it from there. Just tell anyone who asks that we forced you into it.”

“I can always beat you up from the sake of authenticity, if it makes things easier,” offered Weaver, and Hamelin flinched.

“Alright, alright!” he snapped. “I might have heard - something.”

“Good.” Weaver shoved him back against the wall again. “Spill.”

“They call her the Black Fairy,” he said. “Dark hair and expensive suits. Probably one of those cougar-types, you know? Word is she’s hot as hell but would cut your balls off soon as look at you. I heard she was up from Vegas.”

“What for?”

“Business.”

“With who?”

“I don’t know, man. None of the usual crowd, that’s for sure. The whisper is that it was something personal.”

“Personal?” Weaver frowned. “As in family?”

“I don’t know,” insisted Hamelin. “Don’t even know her name, only that she’s called the Black Fairy. Apparently there’s a Blue Fairy as well. Doesn’t sound too bad, right, but I’ve seen grown men twice your size shut their mouths and back the fuck away when they’re mentioned. Real heavy hitters down in the desert. Escorted around the place by huge dead-eyed fucks who’d feed you feet-first into a mincer for looking at their boss wrong, you know what I’m saying?”

“I know,” said Weaver quietly, thinking hard. Vegas again. I wonder… “When did they arrive?”

Hamelin screwed up his nose, the gesture making him look even more ratlike.

“Can’t be sure, but I first got whispers of ‘em a few months ago. Late summer, I guess.”

“And you said nothing?” said Weaver flatly. “What the hell do I pay you for?”

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be interested!” he protested. “Not like they were causing trouble! Just turned up, did their business and went home again.”

“How often?”

“Can’t say for sure,” said Hamelin. “I heard a rumour the Blue Fairy was here this week. No description of her, though.”

“Anyone got more information on this rumour?” asked Weaver.

“No one who’ll talk to you.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have you to ask questions for me, isn’t it?”

“Give me a fucking break, man! You don’t pay me enough to risk my neck!”

“You’re a dramatic little bitch!” growled Weaver.

“Yeah, and I wanna stay that way!”

“This business,” said Nolan calmly, drawing Hamelin’s attention again. “What was it? Drugs? Guns?”

“No idea,” he said, with a shrug. “Like I said. Personal. Nothing that moved in on any of the local big bads, anyhow. Far as I can tell the Fairies paid their respects and were in and out nice as you please.”

“And all you know are their bloody nicknames?” asked Weaver. “Black and Blue Fairies? You sure you’re not just taking the fucking piss?”

“Hey, would I lie to my favourite detective?”

“You’d sell out your grandmother for a half-eaten hotdog,” said Weaver flatly.

“That’s harsh, Weaver. I’m wounded. I’m in actual physical pain here.”

“Shut up.” Weaver glanced at Nolan. “What do you think?”

“Vegas again,” said Nolan, echoing his own thoughts, and Weaver nodded grimly.

“So - so that’s everything,” added Hamelin, and cocked his head to the side. “You gonna let me down and pay me, or what?”

Weaver eyed him suspiciously, and released his lapels, stepping back and reaching inside his jacket for some cash. Hamelin brushed himself down, tugging his jacket straight, and took the money.

“Pleasure doing business with you, detective,” he said, flipping a salute.

“You hear anything on these - Fairies,” said Weaver. “You let me know, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“You want me to punch you in the face?” asked Weaver, and Hamelin sighed heavily.

“Alright,” he said resignedly. “I guess a bruise or two would help if anyone asks what you two wanted. Just - not the nose, okay?”

“So,” said Nolan, as they made their way back to his car. “You think these - Fairies - and Lacey are linked?”

“I don’t know,” said Weaver grimly, massaging his knuckles. “The timing matches up, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Vegas again, though,” offered Nolan.

“Yeah. Could be a coincidence. Not like Sin City is short on criminals.”

"You don't believe in coincidences, remember?"

"Yeah, but this time I want to. Better that than think she's in serious danger." He grimaced. "Fuck, I hate this! I hate feeling fucking useless!"

“Give yourself a break, you're doing what you can.” Nolan pointed his keys at the car, unlocking it as he rolled up. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Follow my gut, I guess,” sighed Weaver. “Heller’s murder is making my nose twitch. There’s something there. Something I need to find.”

“We couldn’t find anything before,” Nolan reminded him.

“I know.” Weaver shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the falling rain. “But maybe we were looking in the wrong place.”

The next day, Weaver went into work feeling more positive than he had been in months. Even if he had no answers, it helped to be looking into things. It gave him at least the appearance of being in control of his own destiny, if nothing else.

He parked at the precinct and walked to the deli around the corner, buying a box of mixed donuts and heading back with it under his arm. It was a relatively fine day, enough that he had needed to don his sunglasses, and the weather further lifted his mood. The scent of coffee was filtering along the corridor as he neared the office, and Merida glanced around as he entered.

“Ah, fresh coffee,” he said, with relish. “Just the thing to make this beautiful morning perfect. Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate you, Officer Dunbroch?”

“Not usually,” she said. “What’s got you in such a good mood? You get laid last night, or something?”

Weaver frowned.

“You have a one-track mind,” he said. “Anyway, I need a favour.”

She looked suspicious.

“Thought there must be something,” she said. “What kind of a favour?”

“The dull, boring, monotonous kind,” he said apologetically, and opened the box. “Look, I bring donuts as a bribe.”

“God, this favour must be boring as fuck,” she declared, but took a donut anyway. “Go on, let’s hear it.”

"That cold case you pulled for me," he said, as she took a bite. "The victim was a lawyer. I need you to go through his client list and pick out any that had dealings in Las Vegas. Either that, or any with a connection to - to some other part of the US.”

“Which other part?”

“I don’t know.”

"How many clients are we talking?"

"Couple of hundred."

Merida stared at him incredulously as she chewed and swallowed, lips shiny with sugar glaze.

“Oh, right,” she said sarcastically. “So when you said it was boring and monotonous, you weren’t kidding.”

“Did I mention the donuts?”

“That’ll take me bloody ages!” she complained.

“Your social life suddenly more interesting, or something?” he enquired, and was amused to see her blush.

“Shut up.”

“Admit that you have a date with Fa, and I swear I’ll say nothing further on the subject.”

She glared at him as she gestured with the half-eaten donut, red curls swinging.

“It’s drinks and a movie, that’s it!”

“Sounds like a date to me.”

“Do you want me to do your bloody searches or not?”

“Please,” he said cheerfully. “Anything that points to an area outside of Seattle. But prioritise those with a Vegas connection.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

“Try to get through the cases that Drake keeps piling on my desk,” he said, eyeing his in-tray.

“So you’re looking into that murder case again, then?” she enquired. “Better not step on Homicide’s toes.”

“No one’s looked at that case in years, it’s colder than the Arctic,” he said dismissively. “I just have a hunch, that’s all.”

“Well, those usually turn out okay,” she said. “I’d better get started. You can pour your own bloody coffee.”

“Happy to.”

“Pour one for me while you’re at it,” she added, and stuffed the rest of the donut into her mouth before taking another.

Weaver did work through his new cases, dealing with quick queries before moving on to those that required more of his attention. He worked through lunch, and once he had set the last aside, he continued his investigation into Lacey. Since he had temporarily hit a wall on her present difficulties, he had decided to concentrate on her past, about which he knew precious little. He knew her name and date of birth, but as far as her family went, he had nothing. He was aware that she had kept in touch with a friend from Maine, but he had no idea who it was, or if they were even a relative.

She was an American citizen, so there must have been a record of the family’s naturalisation, but searching the name French yielded nothing that linked to Lacey. Weaver tapped his fingers on the desk, frowning. An uneasy feeling was spreading up from his spine, a twinge in his gut that he had learned to trust over the years. He stopped searching under French, and instead started looking for immigrants from Australia naturalised in Nevada over a five year-period covering the time between Lacey’s fifth and tenth birthday. A list of records popped up, and after reading through it carefully, Weaver sat back with a sigh. No one by the name of French, or anything even remotely similar. As he had thought.

He sat forward, eyes running down the list, and they narrowed as he caught something. Schwartz. A familiar name, and one which was making that twinge in his gut increase. Weaver stroked his chin, nodding grimly before picking up his pencil and notepad. This was going to take some time.

“Got your searches done.”

Merida’s voice made him start, and he sat back, clicking at the computer screen to minimise what he had been doing.

“I sent you an email,” she added. “Take a look. I put them in name order, but you can change it around if you like.”

"Any more coffee?"

"God, no rest for the fucking wicked!" she grumbled.

"I could use the caffeine."

"I bet," she said sternly. "Did you even eat lunch?"

"No."

"There's four donuts right there," she said, pointing at the open box.

"I wasn't hungry," he said impatiently.

"Oh, starve to death, see if I care,” she snapped. “Just look at your bloody searches."

Weaver opened up the email, clicking on the spreadsheet she had attached, filled with a list of names, dates of birth and addresses.

“So, his clients were a miserable bunch of petty crooks and drunks, seems to me,” she said. “Very good at getting arrested, not much going for them otherwise. Most of them seem to have family willing to bail ‘em out, so I focused on the ones with out of town connections.”

“Good. What’s the verdict?”

“There were several with relatives in California,” she went on, gesturing at the screen. “This one had a base in Maine, there are two with summer homes in New Jersey… How do you manage to get a bloody summer home, anyway? I can barely afford the one I’ve got. I guess the guys on your list were the black sheep of the family, huh?”

“Did you say Maine?” he asked, and she shrugged, peering at the screen.

“Address given was care of someone in Storybrooke, Maine.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Neither had I, until I looked it up,” she said. “Couldn’t resist, the name was too cute, and it’s exactly what you’d think a town called Storybrooke would be. Small town on the coast, fishing port, regular bake sales and local artisan crafts... Sounds so quaint you want to kill yourself.”

“Long way from Vegas.”

“So’s Seattle.”

Weaver grunted.

“Okay, thanks for that,” he said. “Anything else leap out at you?”

“Not really. You can go through the list in your own time, though.”

“I will.” He looked up at her. “Are you done for the day?”

“Pretty much. A few of us are heading to Roni’s for a drink. Want to come?”

“No. Lacey’s bringing Tilly over in an hour.”

“Oh. Well, give them both my love.”

“I will.”

“And don’t work too late, either.”

“Yes, Mum.”

She shot him a look, then took a donut and stomped out again, leaving him with a faint grin on his face. Weaver turned back to his computer, running his eyes down the list that Merida had compiled. There’s something here. I know it.

Lacey was tired: stress, guilt and anxiety had been stealing her sleep and wearing her down, and she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed and drink hot chocolate. Preferably with her husband and their daughter, just like old times. Instead she was on her way to drop Tilly off with Weaver for a few days, and it was the last thing she wanted to do. The fine day had ended poorly; the evening was dark and miserable, driving rain turning to sleet as she walked swiftly along the street to the precinct with Tilly balanced on her hip and the little suitcase being wheeled along beside her.

“I’m hungry,” Tilly grumbled.

“You can have dinner with Daddy, okay?” she said soothingly.

“I want pizza.”

“Maybe Daddy’ll make you pizza for dinner.”

“I want Daddy home.”

Lacey squeezed her eyes shut momentarily.

“I know, sweetie.” She kissed Tilly’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

She felt like crying again, so she was relieved when Tilly fell silent. Lacey’s legs wobbled a little as she entered the precinct, and she let Tilly slip to the ground, grasping her hand to lead her inside. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, nerves making her breath catch. The officer at the front desk smiled in recognition, and nodded her through, and Lacey tried to calm her racing heart as she led Tilly along the corridor.

“Daddy!” said Tilly excitedly.

Weaver looked up from his desk, a broad smile breaking across his face as he saw them, and Lacey felt guilt stabbing at her, raking her innards with steel claws. Lacey released Tilly’s hand and let her run to him, and Weaver swung her up in his arms and hugged her tight.

“Hey, princess.” He kissed her cheek. “Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes,” said Tilly stoutly. “I want pizza.”

He laughed, and kissed her again.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” he said, and turned her around to sit on his knee. Lacey slumped into the chair opposite with a heavy sigh.

“You alright?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Fine,” she lied. “Just tired. You on your own here?”

“Everyone’s gone to Roni’s,” he said, with a shrug. “Fa and Dunbroch finally have a date, by the way.”

Lacey smiled faintly.

“Good for them.”

“Yeah.” Weaver bounced Tilly on his knee. “Anything planned for the next couple of days?”

Lacey shifted uneasily.

“Laundry and crappy TV, mostly,” she said. “You?”

“Well, I thought I might take Tilly swimming,” he said.

“Yeah!” said Tilly excitedly.

“I didn’t pack her suit,” said Lacey.

“That’s okay, I can drop by your place and pick one up,” he said. “If that’s alright.”

“Sure.”

Tilly slipped from Weaver’s lap and wandered over to inspect the contents of the waste paper basket, and Weaver caught Lacey’s eye. He looked hesitant, as though he wanted to say something but was unsure how she would react. She hated that she made him feel that way.

“You know you said maybe we could spend some time together this weekend?” he said. “Nolan offered us his cabin.”

“Not really the weather for a trip to the woods, is it?”

“It’s just a thought,” he said wearily, sitting back, as though in defeat.

“Sorry.” Sharp needles of guilt pierced her. “I’m sorry. I’ll think about it.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t looking at her, his gaze turned to his computer screen. It was locked, a square box asking for a password. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. It was time.

“Oh, since I’m here, I wanted to ask you something,” she said, in a casual tone. “You know that murder I witnessed, the night we met? What was the guy’s name again? Hector, Hiller…”

“Heller,” said Weaver, looking back at her. “Isaac Heller.”

“That’s it.” She shifted in her seat. “You ever crack that case?”

He eyed her for a moment, then glanced away.

“No,” he said. “We thought we’d found out who the murderers were, remember, but we couldn’t prove who had hired them. Then after Nolan was shot, they turned up dead, so there wasn’t enough hard evidence to make any arrests…” He shrugged, the irritation over an unsolved case evident in the gesture. “Case is cold. Why?”

“Oh, because someone mentioned him in The Rabbit Hole last night,” she said, and held up a hand as he opened his mouth. “Before you say anything, I wasn’t working. I just went to pick up my wages. Garrett wasn’t even there.”

He nodded, sitting forward and clearing the scowl from his face.

“Who mentioned Isaac Heller, and what did they say?”

“Don’t know who it was,” she said vaguely. “Never seen ‘em before, and I wasn’t really paying attention, but then one of them mentioned ‘the lawyer that got pulled out of the harbour’, and he was the only one I could think of.”

“Okay.” Weaver grabbed a notebook and pencil. “Tell me exactly what was said.”

“Hmm.” Lacey chewed her lip. “Exactly? I think it was something like ‘you know, that lawyer that got pulled out of the harbour? I thought he hadn’t paid his debts, but it turns out he had information’. And then the other guy said ‘what kind of information?’ and the first guy said ‘a code. The key to a pile of cash’. That’s what made me think it must be our guy, because we found that key, remember? And - and that code, written on the sticky note?”

Weaver stopped scribbling and looked up, his eyes narrowing a little.

“Right,” he said. “There was a note. A series of letters and numbers. You said it looked like a wifi password.”

Lacey shrugged.

“What do I know? Maybe not. What if it’s a code to get into something else? Like - like a computer program, or - or whatever those guys were talking about. Maybe he was waiting to hand it over, and he got killed before I could turn up with the package, right?”

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “We’re reaching, but maybe you’re right. I know we couldn’t find any obvious use for the code based on Heller’s belongings or internet accounts.”

“Well, I guess it’s been awhile since you saw it,” she said, with a shrug. “Maybe you should take a look.”

He sat back slowly, his face expressionless.

“I don’t work Homicide anymore.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to solve the murder?” She shrugged again. “I guess I can understand that. No point doing someone else’s work, right?”

Weaver tapped his pencil against his notebook. She was aware it was an unconscious habit of his, indicating that he was thinking. His eyes never left hers, and it made her want to squirm, as though she was the murderer herself. As though she was guilty.

“Wait here,” he said abruptly, and got up, striding from the room.

Lacey sat back in her chair with a sigh, glancing around the place and keeping half an eye on Tilly, who had climbed onto Weaver’s chair and was making it spin around by kicking at the edge of his desk.

“I wanna pee,” she said.

“Wait until Daddy gets back, okay?”

Tilly blew a raspberry, head rolling back as the chair turned around, and Lacey stilled her restless feet from tapping on the tiled floor. She folded her hands in her lap, trying to present as calm and uninterested a picture as possible, and after a few minutes Weaver returned with an envelope in his hands. He opened it up, pulling out a piece of thick paper folded into thirds.

“This is what you were due to deliver to the victim,” he said.

“Yeah, I remember,” she said, in an offhand tone.

“Daddy, I wanna pee,” said Tilly insistently, and Weaver glanced across at her.

“Can you take her?” asked Lacey with a sigh. “My feet are killing me.”

“No problem.” Weaver dropped the envelope and the piece of paper onto his desk, and held out his hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Tilly slipped from the chair, reaching up to take his hand, and he led her from the office into the corridor where the restrooms were housed. Lacey craned her neck to check they had gone, and sat up, grabbing the envelope and tipping it upside down. A tiny silver key fell out into her hand, and Lacey set it on the desk before reaching into her pocket for a key of a similar size. She fretted a little over the differences, but she doubted they would be enough to cause suspicion; two safe deposit box keys looked much alike. She dropped it into the envelope, setting it back on the desk in what she thought was the same position as Weaver had left it. She then pocketed the original key, pulling her phone from her pocket and flicking it to camera mode, then leaned forward to open up the paper itself.

It was good quality paper, smooth between her fingers, with a single sentence written in black ink and a green sticky note with a seemingly random sequence of letters and numbers on it. She took pictures, one of the paper itself, and two of the note, each focused to give the best view of the code. Carefully folding the paper again, she replaced it on the desk, checking both its position and the envelope’s to ensure they would appear undisturbed from where Weaver had dropped them.

Sitting back in the chair, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, hearing a tiny clink as it knocked against the stolen key, and tried to calm her racing heart as she waited for Weaver to return. He was back with her in a couple of minutes, Tilly clutching his hand.

“Look, I’d better get going,” said Lacey. “Crappy TV shows won’t watch themselves.”

“You know, you’re always welcome to come for dinner,” he said.

She tried to smile, guilt biting at her, gnawing at her.

“Maybe some other time.”

He glanced at the evidence on his desk, and she felt her heart thump, sudden fear that he could sense what she had done.

“I’ll take a look at the Heller thing tomorrow,” he said. “If you hang on for five minutes, I’ll check this back into the evidence room and give you a lift home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said hastily.

“I do if I want to pick up Tilly’s swimsuit.”

“Right,” she said lamely. “Yeah. Sure.”

Weaver picked up the letter, sliding it back into the envelope with the fake key.

“Back in a minute,” he said.

Lacey slumped back in the chair as he left, arms going around Tilly as she climbed onto her lap.

“I want pizza,” she grumbled.

“I know, baby.” Lacey kissed the top of her head. “Daddy’s gonna buy you pizza.”

“You come too?”

“I can’t, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

Tilly looked up at her curiously, dark eyes wide, and Lacey sighed.

“I have to work,” she lied.

“Oh.” Tilly wrinkled her nose. “Work is stupid!”

“Yeah, it sure is.”

Tilly snuggled against her chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, and Lacey kissed her head again, breathing in the scent of her. The sound of Weaver’s footsteps made her look around, and she watched as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. He nodded to her brusquely, not quite meeting her eyes, and there was something in his face: a weariness that made her heart clench. She hated that she was probably the cause.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s get going.”

The journey back to the apartment was made in near silence, the only break in it Tilly seeking assurance that they would indeed be going for pizza afterwards. Weaver carried her case up to the apartment, and Tilly jumped onto the couch and reached for the TV remote as he and Lacey went into her room to retrieve the swimsuit. The sound of a cartoon had started up in the lounge, something bright and cheerful, and Lacey was glad of the noise. Anything to lift the cold, heavy silence that seemed to follow her around. She rummaged in the third drawer of the dresser.

“She likes the octopus one,” she said, fishing out a blue swimsuit.

“Thanks.”

“Hang on, there are water wings in the box under the bed.”

She could feel him watching her as she pulled out the box, pushing aside toys and books and retrieving the orange plastic water wings. She shoved the box back under, pushing to her feet and holding them out. Weaver nodded, taking them from her and opening up the little suitcase before dropping them in along with the swimsuit.

“Looks like we’re all set,” he said.

“Have fun.”

He zipped the case and paused a moment, tented fingers resting on the outer shell, eyes staring at nothing.

“Guess I’ll see you Friday,” she added. “You’d better go get that pizza.”

“Lacey,” he said quietly. “Just - just a minute.”

He had turned to face her, and was watching her with dark eyes, his expression something she couldn’t quite interpret. Love, perhaps, though God knew she had done nothing to deserve it. Love tinged with sadness, with quiet desperation. It made the well of tears inside her rise up, threatening to overflow and drown her in sorrow.

“Whatever’s going on with you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know - you know you can tell me anything, right? You know I would never judge you, that I’d want to help you.”

“You can’t,” she said abruptly, and wanted to bite her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the tears wouldn’t spill out. “What I mean is, there’s nothing I need help with.”

He was still staring at her, and it hurt, as though his gaze could pierce her chest and see into her soul. As though there was something there worth saving. She clenched her jaw, raising her chin.

“I know you think there’s some big secret I’m keeping, Rafe,” she said clearly. “Something that I’m not letting you in on, for whatever reason you’ve cooked up in that mind of yours.”

“Well, that’s because you’re a terrible liar, and I’m not stupid,” he said stiffly. “And because I know you. I know you need my help, and I know you’re too brave and too bloody stubborn to ask for it.”

“I’m not brave,” she muttered.

“You are,” he said, and his tone was gentle again. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

I’m not, I’m a fucking coward!

“I don’t need your help,” she snapped, raising her hands and letting them fall against her thighs with a slap. “God, it’d be so much easier if there was some dark tale of bloody woe I was keeping from you! It would probably hurt less than the truth!”

“‘The truth’,” he said flatly. “I’m still waiting for the bloody truth!”

“I told you—”

“No.” He shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “You haven’t. But I’ll wait. And - and I’ll go on waiting, Lacey. Whenever you want to tell me, I’ll be waiting to hear it.”

Lacey stepped forward.

“But the truth is just - ordinary,” she said gently. “No terrible secrets, no dark deeds to discover. Just two people who don’t belong together. Happens every day. This time it happened to us. That’s all there is. That’s it.”

There was silence for a moment, a long, terrible moment in which he held her gaze, the twitch of his mouth the only hint that she had stuck a dagger in his heart and twisted it. It made her want to break down and weep, to fall into his arms and beg forgiveness. Her lower lip trembled, and she snatched at it with her teeth to hold it still. Blood bloomed on her tongue, the taste of iron and salt, and her eyes stung with tears. He had glanced away from her, his face tight with pain, but he took a breath before meeting her eyes again.

“Nevertheless,” he said, his voice hoarse and heavy with emotion. “If you need my help for any reason, all you have to do is ask.”

“I already told you—”

“Any reason,” he repeated. “I mean it. We’re still friends, no matter what. I still love you, Lacey. I always will.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms to distract her from the pain in her heart. He finally looked away, before glancing back, nodding once, and grasping the case in his hand. Footsteps echoed back at her as he walked through the apartment, the sound of him leaving, and she closed her eyes. He wouldn’t give up on her. He would never give up on her.

#fic: things left unsaid #woven lace fic #rumbelle fic #my fic #woven lace

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