#impromptu flying lesson

[companionjones]

Impromptu Flying Lesson

Pairing: Han Solo x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You’re forced to fly the Falcon on a mission for the rebels. How does Han react to you not doing that well a job?

Warnings: Slight cursing, Han being an ass

*******

    “I’m not doing it.”

    “Oh yes, you are.” Han hastily climbed into the cockpit.

    “No, I’m not.”

    “Yes, you are!”

    “Han, I am not a pilot! I’m sorry, but we need to find another way out of here.”

    Solo was exasperated as he turned to you. “Y/n, my co-pilot is back there, barely alive. I, myself, have got a few mortal scrapes and bruises. Our only option is for you to climb into that pilot’s seat, and get us out of here.”

    “But Han--”

    “I said get into the pilot’s seat!” Han’s voice boomed through the cabin.

    It was enough for you to flinch. Without another thought, you followed Han’s intense order and tried your best to get the Falcon in the air.

    “No, pull up...Up! Up, Y/n!...Okay, now avoid that huge mountain right there. I said avoid. Avoid! A-VOID! Y/n! Be careful with my ship!”

    “I’m trying!”

    Han rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right...”

    It was a less than smooth flight, to say the least. It was a miracle you and Han got the Falcon back to the Rebel Base in one piece, more or less.

    Luke and Leia were waiting for you when you got back. They were there to witness Han lecturing you as you and Han helped Chewie off the Millennium Falcon.

    “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s the propulsion to go, and the brakes to stop!”

    “I know you use the brakes to stop,” you grumbled, “I’m not an idiot.”

    “Really? Because you sure looked like one up there.”

    As soon as you got Chewie into a stretcher, you turned and headed back to your quarters without sparing anyone else a glance.

    Han watched you go with a pissed-off look on his face. The only thing that got his eyes off you was Leia flicking the back of his head.

    “What is wrong with you?” she scolded the tall man, “How dare you speak to Y/n like that?”

    Solo immediately defended himself. “You should’ve seen them, Princess. They almost tore a hole through the middle of my ship!”

    Luke then cut in, “But what happened? That was supposed to be a recognisance mission.”

    “Then you might need to check that mighty force of yours, because that is not what happened.”

    Leia brought back her previous subject. “Han, you better go apologise to Y/n right now.”

    Han scoffed, “Like hell--” He was cut off by a distant and angry roar from Chewbacca. Han understood his best friend. Reluctantly, he huffed, “Fine,” and followed in your footsteps to your sleeping quarters.

    When he got there, Han stood outside your door for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. He opened his mouth to call out to you, but nothing came out because he heard your sobs from inside your room.

    The sounds made his whole body freeze up. Slowly, Han raised his fist and softly knocked on your door.

    You sniffled, “Go away, please.”

    “It’s me.”

    There was silence on the other side of the door for a bit longer than Han liked. He debated saying something else, or leaving you be, when the door opened.

    Han was met with your tear-stained face.

    “Here to yell at me again?” you questioned.

    Han didn’t respond.

    You continued, “Maybe to add one more thing to the list the length of the galaxy filled with the things that I did wrong? Maybe to--”

    Han pulled you to his chest.

    You gasped at first. Then settled against him. Then, you let a few more tears fall.

    “I was scared too,” Han admitted, “That’s why I yelled. I was scared I wouldn’t get you--us,” he corrected, “back home.”

    The two of you stood there for a few moments, you in Han’s arms.

    “We need to get you to the med bay with Chewie.”

    “I am going to teach you to fly the Falcon, if it kills me.”

    You had both spoken at the same time.

    “No way. On any planet. Am I ever getting into the cockpit of that thing again.”

    “Oh, come on! They don’t need to check me out. I’m doing fine-ugh.”

    Again, you spoke over each other.

    And so, the bickering continued. Though some (Leia) would say it was out of your caring for Han that you were yelling at him to go to the med bay, and Han was only trying to give you flying lessons to get closer to you.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

[nikachansstuff]

About effort vs effortless, to all my introverts out there

Okay, let’s do this!

-

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running, Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

VS

Elain say to Azriel, ‘Hello.’ Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. […] But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, ‘Sit. I’ll take care of it.’

And

“I made to move toward [Elain], but someone beat me to it. […] Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.”

-

"Fine,"he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. "It was nice." Not much better. So he asked, "Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?"

VS

Azriel smiled faintly. ‘Would you like me to show you the garden?’.

And

‘I can help her,’ said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose.

-

She [Gwyn] opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn't feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she'd ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. "Try cutting the ribbon again."

VS

“ ‘Can you truly fly?’ He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, ‘Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.’ ‘That’s very beautiful,’ she said.”

-

"Again," he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson.

VS

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports

-

Yeah. People who are introverted know how tiresome this type of effort can be. Luckily for us, we have examples of both effort (in Azriel’s own POV) and effortless, the latter being so clear that it’s repeated constantly in the series.

So when I get a post about how Gwyn makes Azriel at ease and they make each other comfortable: nope, babe. You’re getting it wrong.

Azriel is struggling with the personal interaction, that’s why he redirects their exchange to training focused. It’s actually pretty common among introverts, redirect to their comfort zone to make the interaction less draining.

[thespineoftherighteous]

more more more more aftg show bloopers (p 4?? I think?) whoop whoop de fuckin whoop

Neil's actor being a huge Duolingo dork and in the behind the scenes while the other actors are fooling around between takes you can often see him with his head bent and hear the little 'ping!'s coming from his phone

also during late night shoots, as it gets closer to midnight he always has a point where he's like SHIT my Duolingo streak. and then just blocks out everyone while his fingers fly over his screen

(fans make compilations of him proudly showing his Duolingo streak to the camera and the number grows as the seasons progress)

(he definitely is the kinda bitch who cares more about maintaining the streak than actually learning languages)

actually omg while we're on the topic of languages

Kevin's actor tenderly reciting his French lines to Matt's actor and Matt's actor is just smitten. and he goes "say something else, love" and Kevin's actor strokes his cheek while saying another one of his lines and Matt swoons

(then Kevin's actor turns to the camera and goes "I just told him that he's a disappointment and is going to get his ass handed to him by ravens if he doesn't do exactly as I say" and, from the ground, Matt's actor goes "hell yeah you did. talk dirty to me any day of the week you sexy, sexy man")

coach's actor is always swearing to the point where they implement a swear jar...really it's just something for the kids to jokingly rag on him about, but he goes with it, and every so often they'll empty the jar to buy the cast and crew pizza

they're filming outside at night and it's cold and in between takes Matt's Aaron's and Renee's actors are all huddled together for warmth and Matt's actor gets pulled aside to get his makeup touched up and the other two just shriek at the absence of his heat and catch up to him to tuck themselves against him again

Andrew needs to snap his fingers in one scene but everyone finds out that day that his actor doesn't know how to snap so he has a little impromptu snapping lesson and of course it turns into everyone else trying to one-up each other with their snapping abilities

Nicky's actor telling everyone what he's going to steal from set (will literally say"[about Allison's bathrobe] damn that shit soft as hell. Ive been needing a new bathrobe actually. I'm stealing this" or "I'm stealing this lighter/bandana/sunglasses/etc") but because his humor is so dry everyone thinks he's joking. until months later. when the prop department can't find shit

Renee's actress is doing something completely mundane but Neil's and Allison's actors start narrating what she's doing like they're in a nature documentary (always with Australian accents for some reason??)

"and our specimen now reclines herself vertically on a piece of furniture us humans know as 'a desk.' this clearly less-developed creature seems not to understand the purpose of such an object. but given that this is her first time outside her natural habitat (the jungle) her lack of familiarity with modern technology is to be expected"

Renee's actress: *flips them off*

"ah and here we witness one of the most common behaviors of this specimen. specialists have dubbed it 'flipping the bird,' and explain it as a nonverbal expression of affection" "oh fuck off"

photo from another cold night-shoot and it's of Matt's and Dan's actors, she's standing in front of him zipped up in his hoodie, just her head poking out and they're having a conversation with other castmates like it's the most normal thing in the world, looking the very image of the couple they play

so much glorious content from shooting the dorm sleepover scene. the most popular thing to come from it is a picture from after they wrapped where the cast and some members of the crew had moved even closer to each other amid all the blankets and are asleep on top of each other

Andrew's actor will sometimes actually eat the ice cream he's given instead of just pretending to eat it, and halfway through the scene he casually mentions that he's lactose intolerant and sends the crew into a worried frenzy

if you haven't clocked it yet, these bitches are competitive. and one day, one thing led to another, and soon a bunch of the actors are all being filmed having a plank-holding competition. Dan's actress is the first to drop and she gets booed at for it because "you're an ex-stripper where tf is that upper body strength?"

she flips them off and goes to sit on Kevin's actor, hoping to squash his plank, but instead he starts doing push ups with her on his back. she grins

(Rikos actor wins that competition btw. and Neil's actor goes on a rant about "we succumbed to the ENEMY? a RAVEN? your characters would be ashamed of you" (he also lost?))

Allison's actress pretending to do a get-ready-with-me using all the stuff on Allison's vanity

Wymack's actor falling asleep in The Dad Pose™ when they're shooting a scene on the bus. and everybody gathers in to take pictures

when Kevin and Neil get all up in each other's faces their actors will pretend like they're going to kiss each other

not really a blooper but just all the actors for the foxes and the ravens mingling together in between takes and it looks so wrong

give me all the actors constantly taking the piss out of their characters

for ex during a scene where the monsters are in the car on the way to Edens, Nicky's actor looks towards the backseat where everyone is in character and goes wow what a fun crowd we are you'd never believe we're about to hit the club

night shoots are a. struggle. for Dan's actress. and the others love to take videos of her just standing on her mark with the most spaced out expression on her face

Andrew's and Neil's actors are shooting one of their typical intense, deep scenes and after one take, as soon as "cut" is called, Andrew's actor grabs Neil's face and starts serenading him with the song that's been stuck in his head all day

Renee's actress getting scolded for sneaking snacks into her costume

when Nicky's actor messes up a line (and he's the least likely of everyone to do it) he starts spewing Spanish

Andrew's actor constantly teasing his brother and Katelyn's actress whenever they have scenes together

like the two of them will just be talking together in between takes and Andrews actor will be behind the camera recording them and saying shit like "look at that MINYARD RIZZ" (or he'll use their actual last name) "hey btw [Katelyn's actor] I taught him everything he knows"

that scene where the foxes are rushing out of the dorm to check on their destroyed cars and Matt's actor just faceplants (Neil's actor: "wow. the dedication")

in one scene or other Allison's actress is drinking an iced drink and during one take she just keeps calmly shaking the ice around in her cup until one by one everyone cracks

in one scene Allison's actress is wearing sunglasses. and in between takes she lies down and on camera you can see Kevin and Matt's actors whispering trying to figure out whether or not she's sleeping because they can't see her eyes

Aaron's actor always using Neil's actor as a pillow during car scenes because they're always next to each other and they're actually hella tight irl

the kids love to steal any props that coach's actor needs to use (pens clipboards etc) before they start rolling just so they can watch him try to subtly fidget trying to find his prop before they get to the point in the scene where he actually needs it

all the actors just taking pictures together in the most brutal settings on set.

like Neil's makeup has his face all busted and everyone wants a selfie with him. they all have a photoshoot with the trashed cars. they have another one in front of the "happy 19th birthday junior" set. Neil is tied up at The Nest while they change his hair and Jean's and Riko's actors take selfies with him. another photoshoot with Neil handcuffed in the police car. all these settings in terrible scenes and the actors are in front of them with grins and peace signs

they're terrible.

[bobbinfire]

Wicked/Transformers One Crossover

Okay Okay Okay…

I finally got to watch Wicked (pt 1) recently. And I do see where people on a few random posts have made crossover opportunities between Wicked and Transformers One, obviously placing D-16 as Elphaba and Orion Pax as Glinda. But here me out…what if we have a very different type of casting? To best explain, let me first-

Set the stage…. 

(*waves hands dramatically to cue magical transition*)

We start with D-16. All things considered, his life is perfect. Really. He always does everything right, he is at the top of the charts in anything he competes in, and now to solidify that reality D-16 will be attending Shiz, the top school in all of CybertrOz. He barely steps a foot into the school and is already the most popular mech around. Nothing can ever go wrong. Well, until he is startled by Orion Pax. Pax has a… unwelcome disfigurement (I will figure out that later) that sets him apart from the others. It is because of that, and totally not his shimmering blue crystal optics, D-16 finds he can’t stop looking at him. Luckily for D-16, Orion states he is not attending and is only here for his brother, so he won’t have to worry about ever seeing him again. Later, D-16 tries to approach Alpha Trion, the top professor and head of the sorcery department (conveniently what D-16 is studying). He ignores D-16 inquiries about potentially hosting a class for it this semester, even after bringing back up his paper on t-cogs and their transformative purposes for sorcery. But he is D-16, so he will just have to work hard like always and he will get into that class in no time. Then out of nowhere he notices a well meaning professor over-handling a handicapped bot named B-127 (either he can’t walk or can’t talk haven’t decided). Objects in the room fly because Orion Pax, who as it turns out is the older brother, freaks out. Alpha Trion calms the students down by claiming it was a stunt he performed on his own, but D-16 knows it was that increasingly more mysterious Pax. He tries to approach Alpha Trion about it, only to somehow accidentally volunteer to room with Pax?! For the first time in his life he is not listened to and he doesn't get his way. And it’s all Orion Pax’s fault. Oh and to top it off he is so talented with magic he’s now getting PRIVATE lessons from Alpha Trion. But D-16 will rise above it. He is D-16, so everything will be perfect in the end. Within the first few moments of rooming together though, both of them express their deepest undying feelings for each other: loathing. The two proceed to spend the next few weeks purposely getting on each other's nerves as much as possible. The rest of the student body seems to back D-16 up too. Why wouldn’t they? They are obviously his friends. Orion Pax is unbothered by it, and while he makes it clear how much he hates him, there is the smallest twinkle in his optics each time he pulls a stunt. And D-16 hates to admit it, but he gets the smallest joy from their squabble as well. Only the absolute minimum joy, of course. One day after a class with Professor Ravage (not D-16’s favorite professor, I mean really how hard is it to pronounce his name? It is a D and then 16. Not hard at all) D-16 begins to see Orion Pax in a new light after someone rudely vandalizes Professor Ravage’s board saying “beastformers should be seen and not heard”. Pax stays behind after class is dismissed and helps clean up. While it is not D-16’s job to help, he does feel a stab at his spark from the sadness of the situation. 

Oh well time to focus on other things because a royal is coming to attend classes at shiz! Princess Elita-One, a strong willed and goal oriented dreamer. While she can be a little intense and can list off all the codes of conduct at the drop of a hat, she knows how to really enjoy the moment (especially when it revolves around her). She is perfect, D-16 is perfect, so why not make the perfect situationship out of a perfectly timed impromptu dance party. As D-16 gets ready, his friends find an ugly old mask from his relatives that is meant for regal government parties but more looks like a battle mask that has gone through war. They claim it’s so ugly that there is only one bot who could wear it, and that is how D-16 finds himself giving it to Orion Pax claiming it will go with what he wears. He feels guilty about it but tries to dance away his feelings as the party begins. During the time of his life dancing with Elita-One, Alpha Trion approaches his saying he has been accepted into his class and hands over his training T-cog. A t-cog! An object that allows your body to transform and perform great visual and magical feats. Only the top ranking officials and the Prime himself have them. As D-16 tries it on and watches his future change before him both metaphorically and physically, he asks why now? Alpha Trion says he is doing it against his better judgment, but only because Orion Pax said he would quit otherwise. D-16 is about to ask why he would do that, only to realize not only did Orion see the mask as a kind gesture, but you ended up setting up B-127 with another bot for the dance tonight. Just then Orion Pax walks in, looking very unique with his worn mask covering his mouth. Realizing all too late that it was a prank, he begins this weird dance that has everyone staring. Elita points out how well he is reacting and that it’s almost like he doesn’t care. But D-16 knows that underneath that mask is all the hidden sadness that can be seen growing in Orion’s eyes. D-16 suddenly joins the dance, trying to make amends by damaging his own reputation. Instead the dance catches on and both rise in popularity. 

D-16 and Orion are now the best of friends and decide to have each other's backs no matter what. Orion ends up sharing a secret with D-16 about how he feels responsible for B-127 disability, all because their father didn’t want Bee to be born looking like Orion. D-16 reassures him and decides to help Orion by making him more popular. All you have to do is be as cool looking and awesome as Megatronus Prime. Orion is put off at first, but nonetheless their friendship grows. And it feels nice, the word “friends” rolling off of D-16’s glossa. He is popular so he has a ton of friends but…this one…feels genuine. Perhaps more. An odd thing he notices though is Elita-One and Orion Pax acting odd around each other after a particularly sad day of class. Professor Ravage was removed from class and the new professor decided to bring in a baby Dinobot in a cage. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when D-16 came to Orion, Elita, and the baby Dinobot were gone. The two came back later and that is when they started acting weird.

It isn’t long before D-16 focuses on other things because Orion is going to visit the Prime in the Golden City! The entire class is there to wave goodbye, including Elita who shares another awkward moment with Pax. Clearly it is in regards to professor Ravage’s dismissal, so D tries to make a connection with them by changing his name, since Ravage couldn’t pronounce D-16 right, to Megatron (named after Megatronus Prime himself). His peers cheer his selfless act, but D-16 doesn’t feel better by it, and Elita and Orion seem still in their own little moment. That moment soon ends and Orion is off on the train to the Golden City. Then suddenly he is calling for D- Megatron to join him. Megatron is unsure whether he leapt or was dragged on by Orion but soon they are off to meet the Prime. 

Once there Megatron and Orion travel and see the sights. They party, tour, and Orion gets a special Megatronus sticker for Megatron. They even get a little convenient lore drop that explains how there once were great Primes that ruled over CybertrOz, then they passed away leaving the secrets of the all powerful Matrix to be left alone. Nobody was worthy to control it, until the day the Prime appeared. The two mull over that as they make their way to the Prime. The Prime himself is quite the show off. Sentinel Prime talks about his plans for the future of CybertrOz and that one day Orion will be a part of it, he just has to prove his worth. The next few moments flash by in a blur. Alpha Trion appears and leads the way to where they store the Matrix. The Matrix responds to Orion’s presence. But…something goes wrong. An unplanned outcome of a spell, a plan to use spies to capture the remaining talking beastformers, Orion running, Megatron running after Orion, guards chasing them. More chaos, more ruin, and then…and then, they are alone. Megatron scolds Orion for not filling the rules. What is happening to beastformers, while it does hurt Megatron’s spark, doesn’t affect them and therefore he can move past it. But Orion can’t and Megatron can see that. Orion brings an old jet pack back to life and gives Megatron the offer to leave with him. Megatron wants to…but he can’t. He can’t throw everything he’s worked for just for Orion. He notices Orion trembling so he searches for something to provide warmth. They’re in this old dusty tower though so there isn’t even a tarp to throw on the poor bot’s back. The only thing of warmth and worth is Megatron’s temporary t-cog. So he gives it to Orion, assuring him of his choice and wishing him well. Just then the guards break in and grab Megatron. Orion shouts to focus their attention on him before leaping out a window and falling towards an opening that leads to the depths of CybertrOz’s core. Right as he passes the barrier his jetpack launches him to the sky and he outflies several of the guards. He declares that nobody will bring him down before flying towards the vastness of the unknown surface singing like an Idina Menzel wannabe, everyone declaring he is wicked.

And that is only Act 1.

Hope you enjoyed my rambles. Originally I was gonna do a simple explanation and then I got too into it. I apologize for the horrid grammar.

(I have yet to see anything in regards to Act 2 and I would like to see Wicked Pt 2 as spoiler free as possible)

[straykids-97]

Jackson Wang Drabble 🫧

So, I’ve been listening to Jackson Wang a lot lately and I was at work listening to In My Bed and had a random smutty thought. Could honestly be applied to anyone but for the sake of canonicity it will be about the Mr. Wang.

Strangers?

You’re sitting on Jackson’s couch, enjoying the evening by playing card games and drinking. Your usual Friday night these days.

Various different songs play of the speakers of his tv and for a moment, Jackson gives you a sideways glance. You notice, but think he’s trying to read your bluff. Though, that’s not at all what he was thinking or trying to do.

After he beats you for the 7th time, you fold. “I’m done.” You grumble, snatching your drink off the table in front of you. He smiles at you as he slowly takes his drink and begins to shuffle the deck of cards once more. There was a brief pause before he speaks, “This kinda makes me think of the first time I met you.” He reminisces, a soft smile on his face as he looks at you adoringly.

You can’t help but grin back, “Oh?” The night you met was far from a simple night in playing cards with Jackson. In fact, you met him at a club. However, that night ended you with an impromptu dance lesson to one of his songs, In My Head. You both were plastered, borderline blackout drunk. You somehow managed to remember enough of the night and cherished how the two of you must have looked, drunkenly dancing and laughing at your terrible foot work as Jackson tried his damnedest to teach you any semblance of rhythm.

“So, do you come here often?” He asks, gesturing to the room. You cock a confused eyebrow, “Uh yeah. I practically live here.” You snort, twirling your drink around in your hands. “The club? You just not have much of an interesting life.” It dawns on you that he’s trying to roleplay the night you met. After the wave comes over you, you start to play along.

“Yeah well, you see,” you start to explain, “I have this boyfriend who works a lot and I’m just bored. One of my friends invited me out so…” you gesture around the room. “Here I am.” The conversation isn’t exactly what you guys had said to each other at first, but then again, you both were improvising.

“Must not be a good boyfriend if your seeking attention from bored in a club.” He sips his drink and watches you over the rim of his glass, heat in his dark irises. “I think he’s plenty good.” You defend, “he treats me well, he spoils me, he loves me…” you gave your hand, “he’s just busy with work.”

He leans in taking your glass from your hand and whispers, “a man who’s dumb enough to waste time at work and to let you come out without him, must be ignorant enough to lose a beautiful woman like you.” His voice sends chills down your spine as he creeps over your body and wraps his soft lips around yours. You whimper and your hands dive right into his hair, the kiss heating up rather quickly.

Before you knew it, he managed to wiggle you out of your shorts. He’s sitting back in his calves, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs. “I’ll show you how a real man worships their woman.” He parts your thighs and scoots back enough so that his face is level with your groin.

You gasp as he spits, the saliva landing on your damn panties. He gives you that infamous grin as he hooks his forefinger around the hem of your panties. You shudder and he presses a flat tongue to your clot, causing your back to arch off the soft couch. “God- Jack!” You cry out, making a deep rumble emit from the back of his throat.

He wastes no time and immediately presses two fingers into your soaked core, your hands flying to his shaggy licks to grip anything of his. You moan out to God as he causes wave after wave of euphoria.

Finally, he pulls away. His lips and chin are soaked as is the couch beneath you, a mixture of his spit and your juices coat the three surfaces of your thighs, his face and the fabric of the couch.

Panting, you stare down at the man between your thighs. “That’s not how our night ended.” He grins at you as he presses a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “No,” he sighs, coming up to level with your face, “but… that’s how I wanted it to.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Bonjour, dear Headmage!" Rook's voice resonates before the hunter appears out of seemingly nowhere, like usual. "Don't mind me, I just couldn't help but need to sate my curiosity. After all, for how long you've been here, not much is known about you. Where you're from, what's the extent of your powers, ce genre de choses (things like that). I'm not the only one curious, even: a little rose mentioned something along those lines during an impromptu visit of yours truly to his Alchemy class."

I believe the asker is referring to a voice line that Riddle has when Crowley drops into Alchemy for a Special Lesson. He wonders what kind of magic the headmaster must use--though knowledge of this line isn't necessary to enjoy this interaction.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

It's odd, Rook had concluded, that he cannot discern anything meaningful about Crowley. It’s unlike the huntsman to be lacking in information, in details—but when it came to him, it became a jumbled mess. Unknown birthday, unknown home country, unknown past and powers. No records in any textbooks or formal documentation he could find.

All that was known was the name, occupation, height and weight. The bare basics. Hardly anything to work off of.

Rook regarded Crowley with curious eyes carved into emerald crescents. He provided his brightest smile, his warmest voice. He was a hunter laying out a nasty snare for his prey.

“By all means, I invite you to elucidate. I would personally love to learn more of our dearly beloved headmaster and his long and most illustrious career.”

“It seems as though my students have been gossiping about me once again… even my most studious boys!” Crowley mumbled to himself. (Rook’s hypersensitive ears had no issues picking up his words.) “Dear me, I’m too popular for my own good!!”

Then, addressing Rook in full, “I understand that you are all dying to know more about your dashing, intelligent, highly competent headmaster—however, prying into the personal matters of your teachers is not necessary to your pursuit of a magic education. I ask that you grant your instructors and myself our much-needed privacy.

“Adult matters are just that: adult matters! One day you will understand when you, too, get to be of that age.”

Rook's brows pinched ever so slightly. It's as though the briefest of clouds has passed by the sun, drowning out its light--but it returned, the momentary shift imperceptible to the naked eye.

“Je suis désolé,” he said, lowering into an apologetic bow. "I will mind my words when speaking to my superiors."

"Good, good! I shall be off, then. There are important snacks--" Crowley stopped and hurriedly corrected himself. "Erm, I mean important paperwork in my office which I must attend to. Enjoy the rest of your day, my student!"

The headmaster turned and started to make his way out of the courtyard. His back, exposed.

When the arrow came flying at his head, Crowley didn't flinch, didn't move--didn't have to. It froze midair, nowhere near its intended target, then dropped to the ground. A second later, a crystalline shield flickered into view, then vanished again.

Oh là là!

Rook's heart leapt with excitement. His interest, piqued.

Crowley craned his head back at him.

"Oops! Slip of the hand," the huntsman chuckled, not sounding so innocent with his excuse. He made no effort to hide the bow and a quiver he had somehow produced from his robes.

Bait left out to lure him in.

“Careful, Hunt-kun,” Crowley tuts, wagging a finger. “I may be a kind man, but even my kindness has its limits. I assure you, you do not wish to incur my wrath."

The headmaster--it was the same headmaster, harmless as ever, but... His shadow, it seemed to stretch along the path, taking on a new sinister shape. A monstrous raven, beak full of dagger-like teeth and blood-red eyes.

A chilling thrill bolted through Rook.

"That man seems so preoccupied with trivial matters," Riddle had once said. "It's difficult to believe he is a formidable mage."

Non, Roi des Roses. It appears that our headmaster is, in fact, quite the formidable mage indeed.

"... Bien sûr." Rook knelt, laying his bow and arrows on the ground. "You have my word. No more trickery or deception, fufu."

"Excellent! I'm glad we understand each other," Crowley chirped with the twirl of his cane. "Because I am so very generous, I shall overlook this transgression and allow you to be on your merry way."

He taped his lips together and whistled as he walked off. A cheery tune lifted up into the air like a bird taking flight.

Rook silently marveled at the beauty--and horror--of it.

[mockingjaybirds]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60354706

(1972 words)

MockingJaylad

Chapters: 1/3

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth

Characters: Tim Drake (DCU), Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric (DCU), Young Tim Drake, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wiings

3 Times a bird breaks its wings

Little preview:

I mean, in his defense, when you leave a child alone in an impersonal museum of a home like that one for long enough they will run out of ways to entertain themselves pretty quickly and they will find more things to do no matter what. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if it involves climbing up a very tall tree. Even if it’s an impromptu solo flying lesson that is doomed to fail.

[pepi1989]

Don't mind me, just crying over this. Meds got me all emotional lol

Game, Set, Love - Ben Shelton

The racket squeaks against the ground as you adjust your grip, watching from the sidelines while Ben gathers the kids around for some sort of impromptu tennis lesson. It was supposed to be a private training session for the two of you, but the moment a group of kids wandered onto the court, Ben's focus shifted entirely.

"Alright, who's up first?" Ben calls, his voice light and easy, as one of the little boys proudly steps forward, gripping a racket almost too big for him.

You can’t help but laugh quietly, leaning against the fence as Ben crouches down to meet the kid at eye level. He's careful as he shows the boy how to hold the racket correctly, his hands guiding the small ones with such tenderness that it makes your heart flutter. Ben looks over his shoulder at you, flashing a wink that sends warmth rushing to your cheeks.

For the next half hour, Ben is in full coach mode, giving out compliments, high-fiving every little accomplishment, and being so damn patient when the balls are flying everywhere but over the net. You just watch, entranced by how natural it is for him to be around these kids, smiling every time one of them shouts his name or shows off a new trick.

"Ben, did you see that?!" one of the boys exclaims after managing to make a decent hit, and Ben’s laugh fills the air, his pride obvious.

"I saw it! You're a pro, buddy."

And that’s when it hits you, right there in the middle of this chaotic tennis court: this man is going to be the most amazing dad one day. The way he’s so gentle with them, so encouraging, so Ben… It's almost too much.

You bite your lip, heart swelling at the thought. When one of the little girls runs straight into Ben’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs, you know you’re a goner.

Once the kids finally head off the court, still chattering excitedly about their new 'coach,' Ben walks over to you, a bright smile on his face. His hair is messy, cheeks flushed from all the running around, and he's absolutely glowing.

"So," he says, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers. "What'd you think of my coaching skills?"

You smirk, leaning in close. "I think… you’re gonna make one hell of a dad someday."

Ben’s eyes widen just slightly, and you can see the way the words hit him, the way they warm his whole expression. He’s speechless for a second, blinking like he’s not sure he heard you right.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, pulling you just a little closer.

"Yeah," you repeat softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We're definitely having babies one day."

And just like that, his face breaks into the softest smile you've ever seen, a mixture of love and joy and pure excitement. He squeezes your hand, his voice low and gentle as he says, "You have no idea how much I love hearing that."

Your heart races, and for a moment, it's like the world narrows down to just the two of you. Ben leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and you know, deep down, that this moment? It’s just the beginning.

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

I know some people like to think of feanor as a difficult elf from birth to death, but I personally thinks it’s much more tragic (and much more juicy) if feanor was a (reluctant) good brother. (You can pry good husband and dad feanor from my cold decaying dead hands thx).

Like, feanor wasn’t a “nice” elf, especially to his siblings, but he was there when it counted. Sort of a “only I can bully my little siblings” kind of deal where, while he can tug at their hair (not too hard, don’t want to get in trouble with atya (or so he tells himself)) and call them idiots, the moment someone else so much as looks at his baby sibs wrong he already has a 25 step plan to ruin that elf so badly they’ll never show their face in tirion again.

Bby arafinwe will aproach him holding an injured bird, crying his heart out begging him to help and feanor would simultaneously scold him for holding it to tightly and gently take hold of the bird in order to bring it to a healer while arafinwe trails behind him.

Bby Nolofinwe asked him to help with his school work bc feanor, for all that he’s a grumpy little shit, knows what he’s talking about and “like hell he’s going to let any elf in the house of finwe be anything less than perfect”. Nolofinwe just looks excited: “ok, big brother! 😁” absolutely used to his tsundere attitude.

The first time another elf acted untoward to findis despite her being a princess, feanor comes flying out of the left field and decking em. Then proceeds to give findis an impromptu lesson on throwing a punch.

And of course as time went on and things got more complicated, the pressure of tirion + the depression bc of miriel + morgoth + everything caused him to eventually cave. It got worse bc he refused to come to the gardens of lorien for healing because he was afraid he’d end up like his mother and abandon his family.

I personally really do view his actions post morgoth being released (mainly the flight of the noldor/kinslaying) as a mental break.

[godblooded]

uh impromptu english bite sized lesson from your local literature graduate:

to compliment someone is to say something nice to them or indicate that you think something about them is pleasant.

to complement someone means that you complete them to a perfect degree.

you pay someone a compliment when you say they look fly.

you complement someone when you look fly and also so do they, thereby completing you both having infinite rizz or whatever the fuck the kids say these days.

(you look fly today.)

[back2bluesidex]

Grumpy menace of a reader with whomever you find easier to write🤠 it's morning, I'm gonna read it like morning newspaper 😭💕 thank you if you indulge in this request

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook X Reader

Word count: 504

Theme: Establish relationship au, fluff, so much fluff

A/N: @soraviie the request that you forgot about haha! Hope that you enjoy it, love! 💕

*********************

“Jungkook no! Please let me sleep!” you whine, clearly very unimpressed with your boyfriend’s advances. 

However, he stays reluctant to your complaints as he nuzzles more into the warmth of your neck. At first he nudges the soft skin with his nose and then starts placing soft kisses anywhere he could reach. 

If it was any normal day, you would have been more than pleased to wake up to your adorable boyfriend cuddling you like this. But not today. Not when he decided to go live with his ramyeon recipe in the dead of the night just because he was unable to sleep. He was casually talking to the camera but hell! He was loud! As loud as an excited puppy. And sometimes he even suppresses Bam in the scale of excitement. 

You, being a light sleeper, could not sleep through his live session and stared blankly at the ceiling for a solid 1.5 hours. And now when sleep finally crept into your eyes and you can finally go back to sleeping comfortably, Jungkook decided to cuddle you. 

You whine again as you feel his lips climbing up to your jawbone while he holds you tightly by your waist. Gosh! Why is he so strong? 

“Jungkook! If you don’t let me sleep now, I promise no sex for next two weeks!” you threaten him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open. He detaches his mouth from your skin as he stares at you with those impossibly beautiful doe eyes. 

“What? Why? Why are you so grumpy this morning?�� Jungkook asks as he partially hovers above your body. 

“You are asking me why? Really? You think it is possible for me to sleep through your impromptu cooking lessons at 4 am in the morning?” you reply grumpily. 

“oh! “ He replies briefly, “I am sorry, baby. I could not sleep so I just thought of spending some time with armies. Umm…. it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.” he adds. 

He knows what exactly he is doing, he is giving you those puppy eyes and trying to melt you to a puddle. But will you melt? Probably yes. 

You sigh, “it’s okay kook. Just let me sleep now okay? It’s weekend and you don’t have any schedule either, we will get a lot of time to spend together.” 

He smiles sweetly, one that is reserved only for you, one that you love beyond words could explain. You smile back, ruffling his “Ajjuma murray” and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

He lies back with you, holding you so close and tight. He sniffs your hair once and then starts stroking your hair with his nimble fingers.

“I will help you fall asleep” he whispers in your hair. And you swear to yourself, this is why Jungkook is the best boy in this world, this is why Jungkook is the best boyfriend one can get, and this is why you are so lucky to be with him like this, comfortable and quiet, all for him, all with him.  

[shirohige-pirates]

Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 13: Yes Mother

A/N: This chapter contains physical and verbal abuse. Please proceed carefully.

“I am so sorry.” Thatch says for the third time since he got home. He’s set out the remotes on the coffee table. “I can’t believe I forgot to show you how to work everything.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” You reassure him. You aren’t sure what to do. When Thatch got home he found you napping on the couch. In your sleepy post-nap daze you’d admitted that you didn’t know how to turn on the TV and didn’t want to mess up a setting, and had just dozed off.

Taking a few minutes he walked you through the TV controls. It was easy enough, not too different from what you had at home, but you’d never been allowed to even touch those remotes. It was probably best to experience choosing the channel while you were on your own tomorrow, you didn’t want Thatch to worry more than he already was.

“If you want to rent a movie you can,” he says after he’s sure you’ve got the controls down pat, at least well enough to be okay on your own tomorrow. “Most of the books I have are about food and cooking, but I got one of those electronic deals somewhere. I can dig it up tonight.”

“Please just rest.” You offer a warm smile. “You were at work all day, and having the TV for tomorrow will be plenty. B-besides, I was… I was hoping I could maybe ask for something.” Your stomach knots, but you try to look and sound as comfortable as possible.

Thatch pauses, and his face lights up. “Certainly! Anything you want.”

“I… would like to… go on a date?” You can’t look at him as you ask, but you’re not sure you would’ve been able to do so regardless. It was almost painfully embarrassing to ask, even if the reason was duplicitous, it was something you did want to do with him.

“Tonight?”

“No!” You reach out for him, stopping short and covering your face. He looked so delighted you were worried you were going to break down and start crying. “No, I mean… I mean like, I’d like to see a movie, and maybe have dinner before, or… er… well, I’ve never gone to a play, or… anything.”

“Ah, I see.” Thatch ruffles your hair gently. “A full and proper date then. It would be my pleasure, doll.” He heads down the hall to his room. “Let me grab a shower and change, after dinner I’ll see what I can find for this weekend, okay?”

“Y-yes, thank you!” You raise your voice a little as he disappears down the hall. Sitting back down on the couch you look out the sliding door again.

You cannot cry. You can’t. If you cry then Thatch is going to ask what’s wrong, and if he asks you can’t lie to him. Doing this was bad enough, but if you told him then he could end up getting hurt. Your dad couldn’t harm him directly, but he could find people who would do it, you knew that for sure. Especially after today.

Thatch cooked so much the day before, dinner was an easy affair for him. It was interesting to watch him go through a few different ways of reheating leftovers in order to reheat each part correctly. He talked you through what he was doing, more you think, to fill the silence than anything else. The impromptu lesson was appreciated; you could cook, but not like Thatch, and you never really dealt with leftovers.

Everything was so measured to be sure you weren’t over eating that leftovers weren’t really something that happened.

After dinner, Thatch set up a laptop at the dining table, and looked up some stuff you could do for the weekend.

“There’s an Opera this weekend, and a performance of Shen Yun the weekend after that.” He says as you sit down next to him. “We’d have to leave Friday night for the Opera, it’s pretty much on the other side of the island. Grabbing a hotel room would be less hassle than waking up at 4am to get there on time.”

“The Shen Yun is closer?”

“Yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes from here. See? The Rumbar Theater House is just down the way a bit.” He explains, pointing it out on the little map. “It’s a long production though, we should probably consider a big meal before hand.”

You had told your father one or two weeks, and he hadn’t pushed for one or the other. The distance away from the apartment would be something you were sure he’d prefer, but you were nervous about traveling so far.

“We should do both.” Thatch says after a minute of silence.

“Huh? N-no, that’d be…” A waste, you think. Once your father does whatever he intends to do, you’re sure that everything will fall apart.

“Perfect,” Thatch interrupts your thoughts. “It’d be perfect. We should be trying to spend as much time together as we can. With my job that makes it a little difficult, but if we go on some big dates every weekend for the next couple weekends that would help make up for it.”

“But…” You take a moment, and Thatch sits still until you decide what you’re going to ask.

“Isn’t it expensive?”

He smiles and you feel your chest tighten again. “It’s not cheap,” he admits. “But I have more than enough saved up, and I think you’d enjoy both of them. This way too, you can decide which was more fun.”

“It’s -.”

“It’s not too much, I promise.” Thatch puts a hand over yours. “I’ll get things set for both of them, and if the travel and the Opera is overwhelming, I can cancel the other tickets. How’s that sound?”

You nod. It’s too much, it’s entirely too much, but only because you don’t deserve any of it. You can’t say that, and you’re pretty sure even if you did, he would argue. The only way that argument would resolve would be if you came clean about everything that happened today.

Instead, you sat with him while he booked the other parts of the dates. He gave you choices on a lot of things. Thatch chose the hotel, but let you choose one room or two. You chose one because it would be cheaper, and one with two queen sized beds because you weren’t quite ready to sleep in the same bed. It was the same cost as a single king, so you didn’t feel guilty.

You made plans to go out shopping tomorrow, or Wednesday. Thatch was going to try and get home a little early and if he couldn’t swing it tomorrow he’d manage it the next day. That way he could buy you something really nice to wear, since both events were the kinds of things you could get all dolled up for.

“I have nice clothes.” You insist. There’s no anger in your tone, but you don’t want him to spend more money than he already has.

“You do, and I won’t force you.” He gives you a smile that has the tips of his ears pink. “But the date will be fun for both of us, and… I’d love to give you a gift. You know, for your first real date.”

“Let… let me sleep on it.” You can see the edges of sadness creep into Thatch’s soft expression, but he nods.

“Of course.”

Shortly after that, you’d both gone to bed. As quietly as you could you cried yourself to sleep. The guilt made you feel sick, but if you got up to throw up you were worried you’d alert Thatch. You only had to hold out a few more days and it would be over. Whatever happened, he’d be safe.

Whatever happened to you wouldn’t matter. Not after all this. You didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve any of this. The whole match process had been fabricated, you weren’t even supposed to be here.

The only thing you did deserve was the guilt, and so you’d carry it. You knew your place, and your worth. You’d do as your parents asked to pay back all you owed them, and then accept whatever happened.

You slept so hard that night that you barely had time to scramble out of bed and tell Thatch good-bye in the morning. He asked if he could kiss your cheek and you said yes. He told you not to worry, but you weren’t sure what he was talking about, and then he said he’d be home for lunch, and not to worry on deciding about going shopping. He’d open up Wednesday for it, and that would give you time to think on it.

After that, he was out the door and you were in the empty apartment again.

Remembering that he said he’d be home for lunch you decide to eat a light breakfast and then take a shower so you can get cleaned up. Your face wasn’t too swollen, but it would be better to make yourself fully presentable if he was going to be coming back.

It was difficult. Even the “quick” breakfast took nearly an hour. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in your heart, and tears kept leaking down your face. Your tears last night were apparently only the beginning, and you wondered if your resolve was so flimsy that this was the result.

You waffled between resolving to tell Thatch, and resolving to not say a word at least a dozen times while you were in the shower. By the time you were done you’d only managed to resolve to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

So automatic was your usual process that you had hardly registered that you were back int the main area until you heard the door beep. Your eyes slipped over the microwave clock and saw that it was barely past 9am, there was no way it was Thatch. Fear grips your heart for a split second until your mother walks into the apartment by herself.

Fear is replaced by confusion. You can’t even sort out how to greet her.

Your mother hasn’t noticed the look on your face. She’s been looking around since she stepped in, a wide glee-filled smile on her lips as she takes in the surroundings. Your brain catches up enough to understand she used the key card your father copied yesterday, but her presence is still entirely too surreal.

“Show me around, Doll.” She says, setting her things on the kitchen counter as she walks past you. “This is much nicer than I had expected, I wonder if that old bastard pays for it.” Anger flashes across your face, but it’s long gone before your mother looks at you.

“Show me around!” She snaps and you flinch.

“Yes mother.”

You motion with your arm down the hall that leads to your room, and the bathroom you have. She looks around your room, only opening your closets to marvel at how much space you have in an apartment.

“Goodness! It’s bigger than our house.” Giggling she closes your closet and turns toward you. “His room, Doll, c’mon.”

“I… I haven’t.” You stammer and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m not asking you to lay in his bed, I’m telling you to show me to his room.” She asserts, turning you around and pushing you out of the room. “C’mon now, I’m not going to spend all day in here.”

You stumble a couple steps before you get your pace ahead of hers, leading her down the other hall to Thatch’s side of the apartment. She’s not even pretending to care about the common areas, and you’re certain she didn’t even want to see your room in the first place.

When you get to Thatch’s bedroom door you’re surprised to find it open. The fact that he didn’t even close it while you were here and he wasn’t sat heavy on your shoulders. The pictures of his family lining the hallway walls felt like condemnations with every step.

Thatch’s room was well organized. The king-sized bed was dark wood and dark sheets, with white accents. There were more cooking books in here, a desktop and desk in one corner, and a sense of military service in the way the bed was made and how his closet was organized. As far as you knew neither him nor any of his brothers had been in the marines. Maybe Newgate had just raised them strict in that way.

It would make sense, trying to wrangle and keep so many boys in line like he had. You can clearly hear him saying that he runs a tight ship, or something similar.

“Ah there it is.” Your mother says, looking up at a space high up in the closet. “Doll, go bring a chair in here.”

“You can’t take anything.” You say the words without really thinking, your mother’s eyes going wide as she looks over at you in shock.

“I’ll take whatever I fucking please, you ungrateful bitch.” She replies icily. The weight of your words settle on you as she raises her voice, pointing down the hall as she practically screeches. “GO GET ME A CHAIR!”

The volume, more than the words, has you down the hall in a dash. You grab one of the dining room chairs and carry it into Thatch’s room. Your mother points and you set the chair into the closet.

“Steady it for me, useless thing.” She grumbles, stepping up on the cushion and looking around the top shelf of the closet while you hold the chair steady for her. “Humph, a number pad and no key. Well, that settles that then.”

Stepping back down off the chair you’re relieved to see she’s empty handed. She waves you off to return the chair, and she’s coming down the hall by the time you’ve put it back where it belongs.

“Have you convinced that oaf to take you on a date yet?”

“He’s not an oaf.” You say the words far more quietly than you wanted to, unable to even look at her.

“True, he’s a monster. That brute, you didn’t see his face when he threatened your father and I.”

“Thatch didn’t threat-!” The sharp sting on your cheek was unexpected, as was the force she used. The sharp slap cut lines in your cheek from her fingernails. You put your hand to your cheek, shocked she would leave such a harsh mark on you. Especially your face.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me like that!” Her hand sails through the air again and she grabs your wrist roughly, twisting it until the pain has you on your knees. “Apologize this instant!”

“He didn’t threaten you!” You cry, trying to get her to let go of your wrist. You cry out as she twists it further, her other hand grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at her. The look in her eyes is wild and manic, you can’t remember ever seeing her so angry before.

You can’t remember defying her either, but Thatch hadn’t threatened your parents.

“APOLOGIZE!” She demands and you shake your head. If she twists your wrist much more she might actually break it. “He’s a fucking monster! I bet I could tell everyone he’s beat you, and they’d believe it. Wouldn’t even listen to a pitiful thing like you,” she snarls, a twisted knowing grin marring her features. “So desperate to be accepted by a faked match you let him abuse you. I’ll get your father up here and-.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” You wail, sobbing as she lets you go, leaving you to crumple onto the floor, throbbing hand to your bloody cheek. “I’m - hic - sorry, mother. I’m sorry, you-you’re r-right.”

“He’s a monster.” She says and you nod. “Say it, Doll.”

“He is,” you reply, hoping it’s enough to satisfy her. You don’t think you could actually call him a monster and she might really break something if you defy her again.

“Humph. Did you convince him to take you on a date yet?”

You nod.

Your mother hisses, taking a step toward you and causing you to back away so reflexively you’re under the dining table before you can stop yourself. There’s a tense moment of silence and she clicks her tongue.

“Text us the details before you go to bed tonight.” She commands, stepping away from you and heading toward the door. “Fix your stupid face before he gets home.”

“Yes mother,” you barely say the words aloud as she gathers her things off the counter and leaves.

You need to get up and get ice for your wrist. You need to get up and clean the scratches on your face and try to cover them up with makeup. You need to get up. You need to.

You can’t do anything but cry heavy gasping sobs from under the dining table. Almost no sound escapes you, the occasional hiccuped gasp of air dotting the relative quiet. A few painful sobs manage to claw their way into existence and you can’t keep quiet, letting the wretched wail into the air before forcing yourself to quiet again.

When you hear the beep of the door you realize you must’ve been sobbing under the dining table for over an hour. The door opens and you just stay where you are, resigned in having been caught. There was nothing you’d be able to tell him except the truth.

Thatch comes over, and sits down as far away as he can, and still be in your line of sight. You can smell the mix of flour and fruits on him, the soothing smell of honey and sugar from the confections made at the bakery. You don’t know if it’s the warmth of the shop that you can feel rolling off him, or if it’s just the warmth that always seems to be around him.

Most of you is hidden from him, curled up against the central table leg. Looking over at him you can see splatters of different sauces on his uniform, puffs of flour against his yellow scarf that makes it look patchy in places. The look on his face is sorrowful, and painfully kind.

He has no idea what’s happened. He might have an inkling, some idea gnawing at the back of his mind. His sorrow might be in knowing you’re going to hurt him, or maybe it’s just in knowing you’ve been hurt. He wants to be closer, you can tell, but he’s staying back until you give him permission.

How could he be so kind?

So gentle?

So patient?

He should be furious! He should be loud, and demanding, and unrelenting! This is his home! He shouldn’t be coming home to something so unknown. He shouldn’t find you like this. He should be able to have lunch with you, because that was the plan. That was how it was supposed to go. How it should be going.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. Like he didn’t want to spook you. The tone was soft and gentle, full of a pain you didn’t understand. How could two words sound so sad and so loving at the same time?

Especially when they were nothing but cold disdain on the tongues of your parents.

“Hey Doll.”

[pretty-little-candid-blurbs]

Everlasting

Summary: Join James Potter and the reader as they spend a delightful day together in their established relationship at Hogwarts. Amid the castle's magical ambiance, they experience moments of love, mischief, and genuine camaraderie that only Hogwarts can provide.

warnings: hella fluff

In the early morning light, James Potter and the reader woke up together in the cozy Gryffindor dormitory. Wrapped in each other's arms, they exchanged whispered endearments and tender kisses before starting their day.

After breakfast, hand in hand, they strolled through the enchanted corridors, the castle's portraits winking and nodding as they passed. They stopped at the Room of Requirement to have a private moment together. Inside, surrounded by a soft, warm glow, they shared dreams and aspirations for the future, feeling their bond grow stronger.

As the morning advanced, they found themselves in the courtyard, enjoying the sunshine and the company of friends. With mischief twinkling in their eyes, they playfully charmed pebbles to dance in the air, causing laughter and amazement among onlooking students.

Next, they made their way to the Quidditch pitch. James, still the talented Chaser, gave the reader an impromptu flying lesson. They soared through the sky, the wind rushing past them, and for a moment, they felt like they were the only two people in the world.

For lunch, they gathered with their friends in the Great Hall. The chatter was lively, and they all shared stories from the past and plans for the future. Amidst the hustle, James and the reader stole glances at each other, their affection evident in every smile.

In the afternoon, they visited the library, a place that held a special spot in both their hearts. Surrounded by towering bookshelves, they sat close, reading their favorite books together. Sometimes, they'd share passages that resonated with their souls, strengthening the connection between them.

As the sun began to set, James and the reader found solace by the Black Lake, its waters reflecting the vibrant colors of the sky. Wrapped in a warm embrace, they watched the stars emerge one by one, sharing whispered promises and sweet nothings.

As night fell over Hogwarts, they joined their friends in the common room, which was filled with laughter and the crackling of the fireplace. James and the reader shared a private dance, swaying to an imaginary melody that only they could hear, their love shining in their eyes.

Finally, they retreated to their dormitory, where they curled up together under warm blankets. In the soft glow of their enchanted candles, they talked about everything and nothing, cherishing these quiet moments that brought them closer together.

As the clock struck midnight, they exchanged a loving kiss, knowing that the enchanting day they had shared at Hogwarts would be etched in their hearts forever. In each other's arms, they drifted off to sleep, eagerly looking forward to the countless adventures that awaited them in their magical journey of love.

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury Deleted Scenes

More deleted scenes, these one a lot more fragmented, they don't come from specific chapter, which actually makes it more likely that I'll find ways to repurpose the dialogue elsewhere.

This first fragment was my second attempt at writing Bruno figuring out the whole Cicero thing, it ends where that chapter would have ended if I had used this (although I was planning to schmancy up the last line before I decided to cut it and prolong the story a little).

“We’re talking about rape, aren’t we,” Bruno finally said, finding it impossible to deny it any longer, “he tried to rape my sister, he did rape Rosalie.”

“Sí,” Reina nodded.

Bruno took slow, deep breaths, he found himself wanting to echo what Félix had said when he found out. Killing Cicero seemed like the only thing that could possibly calm the fire in his blood, quiet the pounding in his ears.

But him flying off the handle wouldn’t help anyone. Félix quite possibly was the strongest man in the village, if he decided to go ahead and kill Cicero, he would probably succeed. Bruno… Bruno would have to be more careful.

“I’m walking you home from now on,” Bruno said, “and you are never, ever going to be alone with him. Never.”

Reina stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted, he wondered idly what he must look like to her. Did he look frightful? Was he scaring her? He hoped not, but he refused to look away from her until she nodded, silently agreeing to what he’d said.

He nodded back, “Bien.”

This scene was replaced by the triplets inviting their SO's to a picnic, it ends where I stole the dialogue for Leandra reading Bruno's palm.

Pffft,” Reina shook her head at him, “who cares what people think. You really need to let loose every once in a while.”

Bruno rolled his eyes, “Easy for you to say, you’re not a fortune teller, people don’t assume everything you say has a hidden meaning.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” she bit her lip, “I could be.”

He didn’t respond, instead he just gave her a flat look and crossed his arms. She giggled into her hand, then reached out and made a grabby motion with her fingers.

“Gimme your hand, I’ll show you,” she said, “the dominant one.”

He hesitated, but ultimately put his hand in hers, slowly stretching the word “Ok” into a whole sentence. It pulled another giggle from her lips and briefly her eyes connected with his, sparkling with mischief.

It always felt so nice to hold her hand.

This one got cut from like... the third chapter? This was the one where I reread it and thought "If Bruno was this willing to communicate with his family the movie wouldn't have happened", not to mention if Leandra was this effective at getting him to communicate it would steal Mirabel's thunder. My number one rule for OC's is they can't fulfill or undermine the purpose of one of the established characters, so I made Leandra more prone to subterfuge than this, and that made me decide to stretch the story out.

Silence stretched between them.

Eventually, he remembered what he was going to ask, “Do you even like Cicero?”

Reina looked at him, her mouth working around silent words, finally she sighed and said, “No.”

“So… but? W-why did you dump that food on Pepa?”

She shrugged, “I told you, I wanted to get her away from him.”

“Why?”

Reina pressed her lips together and squirmed in her seat a little, “It’s complicated.”

Bruno was about to press her for more details, but then the shoemaker came up and started lecturing them both about rhyming couplets while Reina packed up his usual order of soaps and creams. The shoemaker was the only person in town to own the complete collection of Shakespeare, and anyone who wanted to borrow one of his books had to put up with impromptu literary lectures. By the time the poetry lesson was over it was time for the market to shut down. 

Bruno wanted to ask her more questions but she cut him off, “Look, Bruno, I… Does Pepa know you’re doing this?”

“Doing-, well, n-no. Not exactly. I figured the apology will mean more i-if she doesn’t realize I forced you to do it, you know?”

Reina sighed as she packed some of the leftover soap into a box, she started to say something, then stopped herself and shook her head. She finished packing without saying a word, but clearly having some sort of debate with herself.

“Maybe just,” she pushed her chair under the counter with her foot, “tell her you’ve been keeping Cicero away from me. Tell her you’ve been scaring him off for me. See what she says about it.”

Reina shrugged, opened her mouth to say more, then shook her head and shrugged again.

“What- why- what do you think she’ll say?”

“I don’t know,” Reina sighed, she still didn’t know why Bruno didn’t know what Cicero had tried to do to Pepa. She figured that if Pepa didn’t tell Bruno when he brought the monster in question up, then it was officially not alright to tell Bruno, and if she did tell Bruno… then maybe Reina could ask him to stick around. She really didn’t want to end up one of Cicero’s victims.

Leche nosed at Bruno’s hand until Bruno gave him a few goodbye scratches, with that done the dog began plodding off towards home. Reina smiled at the giant pooch and gave Bruno a little wave goodbye.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, sounding a little hopeful.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he retorted, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He was beginning to suspect there was something else going on here. Something that only Pepa and Reina knew about.

He hurried home. Bruno paused long enough to listen for the sound of thunder before turning towards the bathroom. Pepa was stood in front of the mirror, trying to untangle a twig from her hair, she cursed at it and the word was swallowed by the clap of thunder.

Bruno knocked on the doorframe, “Need help?”

“Ah, Bruno, si!” she greeted him eagerly and presented him with the knotted hair.

“Did the evil trees attack you again?”

“Ay Brunito, you tease but those damned things have it out for me.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he drawled slowly, “or, hear me out, maybe they’re getting drawn into the wind storm that’s been following you all day.”

Pepa huffed, “Los cojones! It’s because they have some sort of vendetta against me.”

He chuckled, and pulled the twig free, presenting it to her. The thunder cloud over her head turned into a bright rainbow as her face lit up.

“Well, now you can tell those evil, dastardly, trees that they’ve lost this round.”

“Gracias Brunito,” she grinned as she took the twig and began snapping it into tiny little pieces, smugly tossing the pieces of her vanquished foe into the garbage.

“What has you so frustrated?” Bruno asked as they left the bathroom together.

“Ugh!” Pepa yelled, tossing her hands in the air but not elaborating.

“Ah si, si, I see how that could be frustrating,” he teased.

“It’s this whole thing with Cicero,” she exclaimed, “I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it! If I think about it for too long I’ll blow this entire village down.”

Bruno pressed his lips together, then grimaced and took the plunge, “Uh Re- I-I mean Señorita Lopez thought you’d want to know that I’ve been scaring Cicero away from her.”

Pepa froze and the weather above her head changed rapidly. Briefly, the rainbow over her head got brighter, more vibrant, then it turned into a snow cloud. She turned on her heels and gripped Bruno by the shoulders.

“You mean to tell me Cicero has been trying to get to her?”

“Uh si?”

“Joder,” Pepa slapped her forehead, “Of course he would be, I should have known. He probably wants revenge for her warning me.”

“Warning you abou-?”

“Mama!” Pepa turned again and hurried over to their mother’s door, she knocked then pushed it open and went right in. Something Bruno would never have the courage to do.

Bruno stood there awkwardly rubbing at his arm while Pepa and his mother had a frantic conversation. Bruno heard Reina’s real name being tossed around, plus Cicero’s, but the details were lost on him. Eventually, both women emerged from the bedroom, Alma wrapping her shawl around her shoulders.

“Bruno,” she said brusquely, “you’ve done the right thing. I’m proud of you. Keep watching out for Señorita Lopez if you see Cicero bothering her.”

Bruno was equal parts warmed and confused by his mother’s words, and waited a beat too long to respond, “O-of course Mama, but wha-?”

“Julieta,” his mother’s attention was already lost as she hurried down the stairs, his other sister appeared in the kitchen doorway, a mixing bowl cradled in one arm, “I’m afraid I will miss dinner tonight, are you alright cooking for you and your siblings?”

“Claro,” she nodded, “Is everything ok?”

“Cicero,” was the only answer Alma gave, and apparently the only answer Julieta needed. She scowled and looked like she was ready to curse the man.

“Would it be alright if I invited company over to have dinner with us?” Julieta asked instead.

Alma sighed, “Do you mean that boy?”

“That boy” is what Alma called Agustín. She didn’t exactly approve of him, she felt her daughter deserved somebody that could swing an ax without bringing a tree branch down on his head. Still, she didn’t tell Julieta that she couldn’t see Agustín. In fact, after this business with Cicero, Alma was inclined to grant Agustín her blessing. He might be a walking disaster, but at least he was a kind walking disaster that would never (purposely) hurt a fly.

“Si, and Felix,” Julieta replied, her eyes jerked to Pepa pointedly.

“Felix?” both Bruno and Pepa asked with interest. Alma perked up too.

“Oh, claro, Felix is welcome in our home anytime.”

“Bruno,” Julieta turned to him, “will you go invite them to dinner?”

“Um, sure bu-?”

The tea kettle whistled behind Julieta, drawing her back into the kitchen. Alma, apparently satisfied that her children wouldn’t starve to death in her absence, walked out the front door with a promise to be home as soon as she could. Pepa disappeared into her room, saying something about fixing her hair before company arrived.

Bruno sighed in the empty courtyard, “Casita, have they told you what’s happening?”

Some roof tiles nodded at him.

“Care to share?”

Tiles trembled, shutters opened and closed, and furniture moved back and forth. Bruno wasn’t as good at understanding Casita as his mother (nobody was) but he picked up that Cicero was the bad guy in this story.

“Got it, we hate Cicero.”

The tiles nodded again.

Bruno shrugged and left to invite Agustín and Felix over for dinner. Cicero wouldn’t be the first pile of trash that Pepa dated, although he was hopefully the last. Bruno figured if he needed to know the specifics of what Cicero had done wrong, somebody would eventually tell him. In the meantime, he would just have to focus on keeping Cicero away from Reina, apparently.

Alma thankfully made it up the mountain before the sun had set, this time when she knocked on the door, Señor Lopez answered. He stepped aside and immediately invited her in to join them for dinner, before calling for his daughter to place an extra plate at the table.

“Señora Madrigal,” Reina greeted her when she entered the small dining room, “it’s good to see you again.”

“And you, I only wish the visit were under cheerier circumstances,” Alma sighed, resisting the urge to collapse into her chair and instead sitting with the grace demanded of her unofficial station.

“Do you have more questions about Cicero?”

“I hear he’s been bothering you.”

“Do you want me to have a talk with the little cabrón?” her father offered, before apologizing to Alma for his language.

“Well, si, that would be great. But um-.” She trailed off and looked to Señora Madrigal.

“Unfortunately, we don’t currently have any proof of any wrongdoing,” Alma sighed, “and Cicero’s father may retaliate against anyone who makes an accusation without evidence.”

He grunted in acknowledgement and splashed some rum into his cup, grumbling about no-good layabouts, and what they did to such men back in his day. Reina gave her father a fond smile and patted his arm, he briefly caught her hand so he could give it a squeeze, then began grumpily shoving food in his mouth.

Alma raised an eyebrow at his lack of manners, but couldn’t bring herself to disagree with his frustration. It was a frustrating situation.

“Cicero always seems to be hanging around when I go into town,” Reina got them back on topic, “fortunately, he’s kind of afraid of Bruno, so Bruno’s been warding him off.”

“Always been a sweet kid, your boy,” Senor Lopez acknowledged, “you’ll have to give him one of those fancy soaps you make, conejita.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Alma rushed to say, “I’m sure this is Bruno’s way of thanking you for protecting Pepa.”

Reina pressed her lips together, hesitating, she opened her mouth to ask if anyone had actually explained the situation to Bruno but was cut off by her father.

“That boy married yet?”

“Papa,” she hissed.

Alma raised her eyebrows, turning to Señor Lopez with interest, “No, in fact, I don’t believe he’s seeing anyone.”

“Something to consider, conejita.”

“Papa,” she groaned, putting her face into her hands.

Alma shared an amused grin with her host. She wouldn’t be surprised if the man was only teasing his daughter, still, it was something to consider. Thus far, Señorita Lopez had proven herself to be principled, kind, quick thinking, and brave. Brunito could certainly do worse.

“I have asked Bruno to continue to protect you,” Alma said, “in the meantime, I plan to pay Señora Gutierrez a visit while her son is goofing off in town. I will make no accusations, we will simply share a cup of tea.”

“Do you think she’ll tell you anything useful?”

“Perhaps,” Alma thoughtfully pushed her food around her plate for a minute before remembering herself, “Is there anything else you can tell me about Cicero’s behavior that may come in handy? Anything at all?”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, thinking deeply, “Um, I noticed he spends a lot of time with Encardo Rowe, even though his parents don’t seem to like it. I don’t know, maybe you can get her to complain about that.”

Alma nodded, it was something.

“You should ask Rosalie,” Señor Lopez said, “poor girl spent half a year being chased by the little pervertido.”

Both women froze. He was right of course, this little investigation wouldn’t go far if they didn’t talk to Rosalie, but neither wanted to bring up such a painful topic for the poor girl.

“I-I can be there when you talk to her, it should help.”

“I would appreciate that, gracias.”

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Linked Universe Lethal Company AU: Experimentation Pt 2 (3/19)

Time and Twilight go inside. Twilight's first day on the job doesn't exactly go as planned, however. Tw: none for this chapter. Mind the tags for the series. Credit to @across-violet-skies for coming up with the AU. Check the series out here on ao3, or read it below! No previous knowledge of the game is necessary to understand this AU.

The door swung inward with a low, ominous creak. The rush of air that followed shifted the undisturbed dust clinging to the grated metal floor, sending it swirling up in the air. The sunlight snuck in through the open door and flashed like glimmering dancer’s ribbons against the flying specs. Twilight stepped inside, basking in the coolness of the shade and breathing in the musky scent of abandonment as he peered cautiously into the halls beyond the main room. 

Time pushed the door closed behind them firmly, and the room was cast into shadow once again, illuminated only by the flickering lights overhead. Twilight wondered where the electricity to power them came from, since all the light poles outside were knocked over and in disarray. He wondered who maintained them. He opened his mouth to ask, but—with a glance at Time, he swallowed the questions on the tip of his tongue and distinctly tried to appear like he was not questioning things.

“So,” Time began, turning to face him. He planted his shovel between his feet, leaning his weight onto it as he rested his arms atop. “Every facility will have the same layout as this one. Door here—” He jerked his thumb back towards it “—fan overhead—” He pointed up “—and two or three hallways leading from this exact spot. This room will look the same. Always. Well.” Time slung his shovel over his shoulder, his impromptu lesson done. “At least until you get to higher moons, but no need to worry about that.... C’mon, let’s get this day started..” 

Time started off down one hallway, gesturing for Twilight to follow. Their footsteps echoed with dull, metallic thuds against the catwalk beneath their feet. Beneath it, between the metal sheeted walls on either side, was a yawning abyss. Twilight stared down at the bottom of it—so far, the fall would surely be fatal—unnerved as he tailed Time. What kind of facility had rooms with a big old pit leading to nothing? 

The radio at his lapel buzzed, and Twilight jumped with a bit of panic, almost worried that somehow his mind had been read, and even his questioning thoughts were about to be scolded by Time. Time, however, merely stopped with him, reaching for the radio on his own chest.

“Sky,” a tinny voice called. “Two pieces of loot, two doors down on the left. Proceed with caution–-there’s a red dot at the end of the hallway to your right. Looks like a snare flee. Over.”

“Understood, Four.” That must have been Sky, answering, his voice equally static-filled and crackly. “Thank you. Over.”

“Our job here.” Time spoke as soon as the transmission was over. “Is to find scrap. It’s simple, really. You’re going to tap right here on your helmet,” he said, raising two fingers to the side of his visor, “push in the button, and scan your surroundings. The scan will catch hazards, enemies, and most importantly, any scrap that might be within your vicinity. You’re going to want to scan every new room that you encounter before you enter it, every corner that you go around, every door that you’ll walk through. This scanner gives you any information that you could miss. Try it now.”

Twilight nodded quickly, still afraid of being scolded if he didn’t obey Time quickly enough, and he fumbled to find the spot that he’d indicated on the side of his own helmet. His gloved fingers found an indented button, and he pressed down. A flash of blue over took his vision with a chirp. It raced in a wave down the hallway, tracing the walls, the walkway, and the ceiling, until it disappeared into the shadows beyond. Twilight let out a belated gasp, stumbling back; Time began forwards again, his shoulder slung over his shoulder as he motioned Twilight onwards. 

“Pretty good technology, for the Company. And remember—information is your first defense. Four may not always be there to let you know about things ahead of time, and this scanner will bridge that gap of knowledge—before relying on Four. Not bad, after all these years.” Time tapped the side of his own helmet. “It doesn’t often fail me. Don’t use it in substitute of your own eyes, but it’s quite the reliable piece of machinery.”

They continued to trudge down the catwalk. It was eerie, Twilight thought, to see the ground drop beneath his feet through the grated walkways, guarded only by thin yellow rails and illuminated by the low, flickering lights.  Twilight sighed with relief when they reached a stone lined hallway that, at least, had solid footing. Time, however, grew tense, his shoulders setting and his paces growing stiff. 

“This area of the facility is the maze, or as some people call it, the labyrinth. Low visibility, and a higher chance for an entity to sneak up on you, given the number of vents.” He kicked at one, a little metal cover in the wall, as they passed. “Stick close.”

Twilight gulped, pressing in closer to time. It really was unnerving, the hallways, with their footsteps echoing in the deafening silence around them. Twilight was struggling to hear any sign of the “entities” that Time had spoken of. Time raised his hand to the side of his helmet, scanning the hallway every ten steps. Twilight followed suit.

“Sky? Halt where you are. Over.” The radio at his chest gave out in a blurt of static, and Twilight jumped into the air with a yelp. “Turrets to your right, I’ll guide you through it in a moment, there are a few items beyond.”

“Really, you gotta get used to that thing.” Time scoffed. He came to a stop with Twilight to listen to the rest of transmission.

“Time, an item in the room to your immediate left. No detected entities. But Sky’s run into a few more turrets on his end. I’ll be keeping a loose eye on you guys, but you’re going to be on your own for a little bit when it comes to loot.” A pause. “Tell poor Twilight to calm down, he’s gonna make himself sick looking around so fast. I can see him turning circles on the monitor. Over.”

Sky’s good-natured laughter rang over the radio. Time tipped his head towards Twilight, and he knew that the bastard was sporting a shit-eating grin underneath the helmet. 

Twilight flushed beneath his own. “Uh… thank you, Four. I’ll do that.”

And Time threw his head back and guffawed. “Hit the button on the side of your walkie,” Time told him. “You’re just talking to the air, nobody heard you.”

“Oh.” And Twilight wished, then, to sink into the floor and die. He grabbed awkwardly for the switch. “Thank you, Four,” he repeated.

“Over,” Time prompted. “Always let someone know when you’re done talking. The radios have a delay—don’t want everything to get all jumbled up.”

“Uh. Over.” And Twilight flicked the receiver off. The radio went dark.

“No—Twilight, hang on.” Time reached forwards and turned his radio back on. “You only have to let go of the button to stop transmitting your voice. You just turned your radio off.”

Wishing to combust upon the spot, Twilight muttered some affirmation and let Time fix it for him. Time just laughed again, and, shamefaced, Twilight followed him left, down another darkened hallway, as Four had directed, and into a wide open area with lockers and a balcony. 

“It’s rare to find scrap in the hallways of the facility, and even rarer in those labyrinth hallways back there. Most of it’s going to be in rooms like this,” Time explained as they stepped inside. He raised his hand to the side of his helmet. “Four said there’s one item in here—use your scanner to find it.”

Twilight copied Time, raising his hand to the side of his own helmet, and pressed down the button. That same line of blue raced away from him across the room, until—

A ding. A green circle took up the corner of his visor, centered around one of the lockers on the other side of the room. 

“Over there!” Twilight started forwards in excitement. Wedged underneath a broken shelf was a sheet of metal that the scanner named a ‘cookie sheet.’ He picked it up, holding it out in front of him, and looked to Time for approval.

Time merely nodded. “Good job. Scan it again, see how much it’s worth.”

Twilight did. His visor again lit up with that green circle, and a number appeared beside it. 24 credits. 

“That’ll go towards quota,” Time said, sounding pleased. “Carry it with us, let’s keep going.”

“No, wait.”

Twilight hit the scanner on the side of his helmet. It lit up with a green on another item, wedged in the corner of the broken cabinet and covered with debris. Twilight fished out a delicate ring. 87 credits. Twilight held it up to Time with a grin, preening.

“Good find,” Time grunted. He took it from him, dusting off its dirty surface with the edge of his thumb, lingering just a wistful second too long. “Wonder how something like this got in here…” He tucked the ring into his pocket, took a final scan of the room, and then continued out into the corridor, waving Twilight wordlessly along after him. Twilight, his celebratory mood dampened a little bit by Time’s muted reaction, followed. 

“Red dot behind you, Sky,” crackled over the radio suddenly. “Approaching quickly. Movement’s similar to a Bracken. Over.” 

Time halted in the middle of the hallway, signaling for Twilight to do the same. The radio on his chest spat out a sharp crack.

“I don’t, uh—OH GOD!” Time leaned closer, his brow set behind his visor. A cold sweat broke out across Twilight’s body at the sound of true fear in Sky’s voice. “Y–yup, there’s a Bracken all right. Over.”

“It’s retreating. I’ll keep an eye on it for now. It’s nearly 4:00—I suggest that all parties start heading outside. Over.”

“Understood. Over,” Time barked into his radio. “We’ll be pushing a little further.”

“Alright Time,” Four said, “Then you’re gonna want to head back the way you came, then continue to the left. Looks like you’ve got a warehouse ahead, with about 5 items scattered about. Could be a good haul, but be careful. Over.”

“We’ll watch our backs. Over.”

They walked down to the dimly lit warehouse, gathered up the items they found there—an engine, a large axel, and a few other knick knacks. Time’s head was on a swivel the entire time—and with one last cursory scan, he declared it time to go. So they headed back, following the signs they’d left behind on the wall. Twilight broke a bit ahead as Time stopped to cross out the signs behind them, signifying the hallway as searched.

And then, out of nowhere, something shrieked, and a heavy weight landed on Twilight’s head.

[marketfreshfics]

The Stratagem Strain - Part II

Plot summary: Arriving at Hogwarts for an advanced graduate program on the direct appointment of the Minister for Magic himself, Paisley Gallos anticipates a successful sixth year of classes. Unbeknownst to her, she is a pawn in a sinister ploy orchestrated long before the start of the school year.

Tags: violence | angst | blood | vampires | tragedy | forced proximity | regret | denial of feelings | NDEs | eventual smut | dark magic | accidental death | read on AO3

Save for the impromptu flying literature fiasco near the Charms classroom, involving one Hector Kibbings, one Lyle Dean and about twenty library books, Paisley’s fourth day of classes thus far was entirely, thankfully, ordinary. 

The castle exuded a snug dimness, its atmosphere coloured by the dreariness of the weather, a mood that seeped into the professors and their lessons despite the fresh start of term. Even Professor Hecat, for all her unorthodox vitality when teaching, insisted they spend the morning class penning refresher notes on hex deflection. Oblivious to respite, with her quill enchanted to carbon-copy the lecture, Paisley read up on her assignment for Transfiguration.

She immediately recognized the start of a routine, the familiar weight of academic expectation settling lofty and buoyant on her shoulders, much like her father’s treasured old raincoat. Lost in thought, Paisley absentmindedly traced the intricate patterns etched into her desk with her fingertips, scrawls and quill carvings from generations prior, as her mind drifted back to the past few days' events. There was a strange anticipation of it all: graduating early had never been a prospect on her radar, but the mere idea of the head start on life gave her goosebumps. 

But that was a long-term anticipation, a gentle flutter in her chest. Short-term, what she looked forward to most, aside from her trip to Hogsmeade after classes, was Astronomy. Not solely because it held her interest more than most of her studies, but because she could rely on captivating conversation with her tall, soft-spoken classmate.

“Hello Amit,” she greeted her first Hogwarts friend with a radiant grin. “Did you finish reading about the Olbers’ paradox?”

The young wizard practically beamed, pleating the corners of his dark eyes. “It was thrilling! I’d never considered such a theory, but it holds merit. Even if the universe constantly expands, it would explain why interstellar space still exists.” Warm hands withdrew the bound copy of Heinrich Wilhelm Olbers’ thesis from his foldover satchel, returning it to her; Paisley’s smile expressed fondness when she noticed the pages were still pristine, free of folds or creases, the spine still intact--a clear sign of his respect for such precious belongings.

Paisley thanked him, tucking away the text as she spoke. “It’s funny you mention that; I have a copy of Kepler’s considerations of this theory, which predate Olbers by a couple of centuries. If you enjoyed his theory of planetary motion, you’re bound to find this one fascinating.”

“Really?” Amit was just as starved for in-depth discussion, with the way he turned his whole body towards her as if to plant himself directly into their conversation. “Did you know he was a student of Brahe? Known for—“

“The Tychonic System,” Paisley finished his sentence, a modest, albeit proud tint to her cheeks. “Sorry… incredible, isn’t it? And when you consider Copernicus, we can keep going back—“

“Mister Thakkar, a moment? I require some assistance!” Professor Shah's interruption shattered their exchange, drawing their attention to the professor crouched over a domed gadget, reminiscent of a large, upside-down colander, attempting (unsuccessfully) to connect it to a prehistoric-looking telescope. 

Amit gave Paisley a kind, apologetic look, already eager to return to their shared interests as he went to aide the professor with setting up the massive star projection. Meanwhile, Paisley enchanted her quill to scrawl notes before Shah even provided the basis of the day’s lesson. She perched on the edge of her chair and leaned back, ankles crossed, reclining as she surveyed her classmates with innocent glances, trying some name association to recall who was, well, who. From her measured assumptions, most of them didn’t make appearances in her other classes, at least from the perspective of her short-term memory.

Eventually, her line of sight fell on the student seated next to Amit’s empty chair. A fellow Slytherin she recognized but couldn’t place, looking far too proper for their surroundings, with his mousy blonde hair immaculately coiffed, pomaded, prim. Even his school robes hinted at additional galleons in the lining, more meticulous care interwoven in the stitches…

Though his appearance first piqued her curiosity, the miniature galaxy on his desk thoroughly captivated her. It hovered above a small wooden frame set flat on the table, the scaled-down twilight a transparent watercolour, diluted indigo and dotted with endless twinkling stars, the cosmos slowly swirling in suspended motion. The wizard absent-mindedly swept his fingers side to side, as if his touch travelled through the Milky Way, constellations webbing to and fro as he landed on Sagittarius-

“I'm not privy to courtesies across the Atlantic, but staring is not encouraged here.”

Paisley’s head jarred at his sudden speech, and she blinked, stammering, face all hot-flashed. “Sorry, I-I was just admiring your star map. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You won’t,” he replied flatly, still scrolling through the universe.

“Oh, did you build it yourself?”

His expression showed amusement. His head turned towards her, sloped, without established eye contact. “No, it’s how I get by in this class.”

A nudge born in her subconscious told her it wasn’t advantageous, but a necessity.

Seeking to understand further, Paisley took a closer look, noticing his distinct lack of pupils. His eyes were a remarkably bewildering hue, as if they argued between blue or green and eventually settled on a mutual agreement.

Not wanting to seem insensitive, Paisley took the opportunity to make light of the circumstance. “Rather poor sense of humour to make a visual-based learning class mandatory, in this case.”

The wizard huffed, a titter held captive in his throat. “You know, for a Ravenclaw, you make a terrible Slytherin.”

Recognition dawned on Paisley as she recalled seeing him at dinner the night before. She finally connected a place to a face; all she needed was a name. “You’re Sebastian’s friend.”

He nodded, slipping into practiced formality. “I’m Ominis, Ominis Gaunt.” 

“Paisley Gallos.” she introduced herself in return, feeling rather inadequate compared to his well-groomed confidence. The tailored uniform and lack of stray hairs didn’t help matters.

Ominis nodded. “Sebastian’s looking forward to your trip to Hogsmeade. Was prattling on about it during breakfast.”

“He was?” This surprised Paisley, given the brief conversation they had. Was there something she was not yet made aware of?

“I’d have thought that would be obvious,” Ominis stated matter of fact. “You’re a new fascination around her, of course, he’ll want to pick your brain.”

Fair. At least he couldn’t see her sapped expression. “Surely that will cease soon enough? I’m not fond of the attention.”

The responding headshake paired with an inward grin said otherwise, and Paisley sighed. “Suppose I was expecting too much.”

“I’m certain you’ll have no issue blending in, especially if you’re nose remains buried in books.”

Paisley arched an eyebrow, undecided if his tone was mocking, playful, or abrasive. Before she could manage a retort, Amit had returned to his seat, pulling out his chair. “Sorry about that! Professor Shah curses that fossil of a contraption, but with the inclement weather, we’ll have to make due…”

While Amit picked up where they left off, Paisley peered around him momentarily, watching as Ominis swirled his fingertips through the stars.

-----

“Ah, there you are.”

Sebastian leaned against the door to the courtyard, kicking a chipped edge of the cobblestone, steeped in the appearance of a parent coming to gather their child from school. “Thankfully the rain has relented.” He held a hand outside, a scant smatter of droplets collecting on his palm. “Well, mostly. Hope you don't mind getting a little wet.”

Oblivious to his amused expression and anticipation of her reaction, Paisley started out the door ahead of him, already walking at a brisk pace. “No issue whatsoever.” The fresh air felt good in her chest, tinged with the earthy aroma of petrichor. “Keep up now, otherwise I’ll get lost.”

The dirt path, worn down to smooth ruts by years of foot traffic, guided them toward the village ahead. As they sidestepped to make way for a thestral-pulled carriage, Paisley's gaze swept over Hogwarts in the distance, her expression awash with wonder. “Magnificent.”

Sebastian stopped alongside her to take in the sight as well. “It’s rather enchanting, isn’t it?” He crossed his arms, idly scuffing a pebble with his Oxford. “Certainly wish Anne were here to see it again. Merlin knows she misses it here.”

“Who’s that?”

They fell into stride again as he replied. “My twin sister. She's ill at the moment, but with any luck, she’ll be back at school sooner than you know.”

Paisley’s expression softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She reached for lighter fare. “Is she in Slytherin as well?”

Sebastian nodded, his grin lax, but loving. “She is. Her, Ominis and I were quite the trio—always up to some mischief, most of which Anne orchestrated herself.”

“Really?” This surprised her, recalling Ominis’s austere demeanour. “But Ominis seems so…”

Sebastian reached back to tug on the hood of Paisley's cloak. "Ah, now you're judging a book by its cover," he teased. "You, one of the brighter minds in our year, falling for such a cliché?"

She stumbled over her words, giving the tells of embarrassment. “I-I mean—“

Sebastian's chuckle cut through the unease, his playful tone softened by genuine warmth. “Oh, come now! Keep that uptight, and you’ll become as petrified as the gargoyles.”

Her silent frown only made his laugh echo on. “So temperamental. Look, Ominis is my best friend, my oldest friend.” His words were sincere, even after following such teasing ones. “He’s a good egg, despite how marvellous his family is.” 

The telltale tone of sarcasm that capped off his remark was not lost on Paisley. “Are they dark wizards or something?” 

Sebastian fell out of step momentarily, as if he wasn’t anticipating the question. He attempted recovery with nonchalance, reminding himself that he recently met this student; he’d have to be careful with the secrets he shared, especially their phrasing. “Well, rumours are just that—rumours. But they’re a bunch of pureblood elitists, the whole lot of them. Loads of Slytherins are, but his father’s side traces back to Salazar himself, so there’s even more to contend on status.”

“That’s rather intense,” Paisley replied, combing back shoulder-dusting waves, damp from the occasional condensation. “I wasn’t aware that blood status was so relevant here.”

“You have no idea. Slytherin is the worst for it.” 

“How very fortunate that I'm muggle-born, then.”

Sebastian’s glance towards her was a wary blend of concern and fascination. His advice came with caution in tow. “Might be best to keep that information under wraps. You’re not from around here, so they probably won’t dig too deep on you, but don’t give them a reason to.” 

A lump formed in Paisley's throat as she wondered who exactly Sebastian was alluding to. Who were "they," and were they people she needed to avoid?

Why even bring up something like that in the first place?

Sebastian backtracked. “But yes, Ominis wants nothing to do with his family’s beliefs. He’s been staying with us in Feldcroft for a while now, having excommunicated them entirely, though he’s still receiving a stipend. Mostly because his family is so hellbent on appearances and status and prioritizing themselves, so they keep him clothed and ‘cared’ for, though they’re hardly caring, if you ask me.” 

“What does that mean?”

“There is… a lot of history there.” He struggled with his reply, meticulously choosing his words with precision. “History, that isn't my place to say. I’ve probably shared enough as it stands..”

With impeccable timing, they approached the entrance to Hogsmeade, dotted with clusters of witches and wizards in all manner of dress, eclectic to ragged. Crooked cottages leaned inwards and sideways, beckoning with their age-old charm, while a whimsical warmth enveloped Paisley's chest, infusing her with a sense of wonder. She couldn't help but admire the enchanting hamlet before her as if it were a scene stolen from a dream, delicately draped in the gentle mist of time itself.

“Seems all roads lead to Hogsmeade.”

“Beg your pardon?” Paisley cocked a brow.

Sebastian merely grabbed her arm, plucking her from an uncharacteristic stupor. “Tomes & Scrolls, correct?”

“Right, yes.”

——-

Although the (hefty) volume that Professor Fig arranged for pickup was already in her possession, Paisley acquired two more without hesitation. “Sure you don’t have any errands to run while you’re here?” She asked Sebastian, carting desired purchases stacked in her arms.

He shook his head, arms crossed, leaning against the railing as he peeked over his shoulder to survey the floor below. “I’ve scoured these shelves and then some,” he assured her. “Managed to evade Potions class and detention for this little excursion; Take your time.”

Scrutiny narrowed her hazel eyes. “What for? I thought you were striving for minimal detention.”

“It’s complete nonsense, really.” The annoyance rolled off Sebastian in droves as he dismissed Paisley’s comment. “There are… regulations that bar specific texts from circulation in the library. I believe that information should be readily accessible. Scribner, however, does not.”

“Are they dangerous?” Paisley ventured as she attempted to reach something from the shelf above, silently cursing her lack of height. Sebastian noticed her pitiful extension when she pushed up on her toes and, with ease, he intervened, effortlessly reaching over her head to grab the leatherbound copy of The Enchanted Elixir Compendium, plopping it on her growing stack. 

Her relieved sigh was met with a nod of acknowledgment before Sebastian resumed his casual stance against the railing. “Of course, dangerous books are bound to be allocated there. What matters, in my humble opinion, is that the danger lies not solely within the pages themselves but, rather, how one engages with their contents.”

“How very valiant of you.”

Sebastian grinned, impressed by Paisley’s selection of books thus far. “Some light reading?” He teased. 

“My mother was a teacher. Keeping well-versed comes second nature.”

"Likewise," the wizard chimed in. "Both my parents, actually—"

The sudden creak of the shop door swinging open interrupted them, startling Paisley. With a quick succession of thuds, her stack of books tumbled from her grasp to the floor.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, crouching down to retrieve them. Sebastian mirrored her actions, his helpful gesture met with an appreciative smile. As they straightened up, Paisley's gaze darted through the gaps in the wooden staircase rungs, fixating on the entrance of the shop.

A burly wizard sporting a bowler cap stared back at her, his sneer dripping with contempt. Before she could react, Sebastian rose to his feet, extending a hand to her. "You alright?" he inquired, sensing her sudden unease.

Paisley nodded, but as she glanced back towards the entrance, the man was nowhere to be found.

"Sorry, just... nothing. Thought I saw something," she dismissed, though a trace of uncertainty lingered in her voice.

-----

At the advice of Sebastian (and the mercy of her back), Paisley toted her armload of fresh books to the mail sorting to dispatch them to her dormitory via post. Once liberated from the weight, she emerged, savouring a deep breath.

The smell of milk chocolate and caramel swamped her throat, and she had to let out a brief cough to counter the sugary scent. Sebastian’s eyes were saucers. “Honeydukes, now.”

Before Paisley could interject, she was whisked away, captive to Sebastian's impromptu adventure. In hindsight, Professor Fig's decision to enlist Sebastian as her guide seemed more prescient than she had initially realized.

A riot of colour exploded from a nearby storefront, vibrant and shocking amidst the surrounding muted tones, a sore thumb of eye-popping saturation. The tantalizing aroma of confections grew stronger with each step, drawing them inexorably closer. "A candy shop?" Her question wasn’t one of confirmation, but surprise. “Last thing I’d expect to see here.”

Sebastian's response was cryptic yet assured: " Nothing compares to Honeydukes."

True to his word, the moment they crossed the threshold, Paisley felt as if she had been transported to an alternate reality—a fable where children might wander into enchanted forests and stumble upon the edible abode of a wicked hag. Before she could voice her bewilderment, Sebastian was already off, his cloak was billowing past her, brown hair all bouncing as he bounded towards the aisles in the back.

It provided an appropriate visual for the term ‘kid in a candy shop,’ prompting a wry smile from Paisley as she trailed after him, equally intrigued by the unexpected detour.

“Right, so you have to give these a try—” Sebastian practically tossed a box of bonbons at her, narrowly whizzing past her head before presenting another variety of treats. “Ah! Chocolate wands! Haven’t had these since I was in third year…”

Paisley snorted, deftly catching the confections as he lobbed them her way. “I don’t think I’ve consumed this much sugar in my entire life.”

“Need to catch up then,” He chimed, depositing another box of sweets in her folded arms, labelled Cauldron Cakes. “Have to put some meat on those bones; the castle gets plenty chilled during the winter, especially in the dungeons.”

She narrowly dodged his aimed pinch at her waist, accidentally dropping the box of cakes. “Sorry!” her sheepish tone aimed at the store clerk, whose expression claimed every ounce of annoyance that Paisley could detect.

“Excellent,” Sebastian was already strolling down another aisle, and with a quick-quipped “incoming!” Paisley sidestepped to grab the box of Every Flavour Beans as Sebastian grinned with mischief over the shelf at her. “You’ve got to try those, especially the dark-spotted ones.” She skimmed the flavour key on the back of the package and threw him a glare once she learned which ones were unmistakably pepper-flavoured. The box was promptly tossed back over the aisle towards Sebastian, who caught it before it could hit the floor.

It was at that moment that Paisley caught sight of a familiar bowler hat, traversing down the aisle opposite hers.

She bristled immediately, a chill of suspicion, of worry cooling her blood. 

His narrow-set eyes were wild when they glanced at her, and immediately Paisley moved, rounding the aisle to join Sebastian again. There was an urgency in her voice when she prompted him. “Have all you need?” 

Her tone was not lost on him, despite his scrunched brow of confusion. “Uhh, yeah, yeah of course…”

Almost predictably, the thickset wizard was suddenly nowhere to be found.

The pair paid for their pluckings, and Sebastian stuffed them into his robes as they left the shop.

“Well, now that that’s all settled,” Sebastian brushed a speck of dandruff from his robe, “I’d say we have just enough time to enjoy a butterbeer, on me.”

“What’s butterbeer?”

Sebastian’s overreaction was nearly comical. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me what butterbeer is?”

Paisley shrugged. “Perhaps you're a bit slow on the uptick, but I’m not exactly from around here.”

The range of his responding eyeroll impressed her. She didn't miss a beat as he led the way, passing by a gilded clothing shop. “Keep it up; you may find a thought or two in the back of your skull.”

“Oh, what’s that, Pais? You’d like to buy us a round, instead? Feeling charitable, hmm?”

Paisley swatted him before he could bring the hood of her robe over her head.

-----

“Well?”

Sebastian's voice lilted in expectation as he leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto Paisley's every nuance. She found herself under scrutiny before she even took a sip of the amber beverage.

“It’s…” She combed for the proper terms. “Reminiscent of butterscotch? Though it's very similar in flavour to the crème caramels my mother used to make.”

Satisfied with her response, Sebastian drank before studying her more in-depth. “Must be quite the whirlwind, stepping into this world?”

Paisley nodded with exaggeration. “Thrilling, though it's all a bit more overwhelming than I initially thought.” She shifted in her seat, thanking the kind barkeep who delivered the platter of sandwiches they’d ordered. “When I started at Ilvermorny, it felt like, like an extension of what I knew, you know? Different land, yes, but not a different universe. It wasn’t such a shift to acclimate.”

“I can imagine.” He paused to wipe butterbeer foam from the corner of his mouth. “Do you miss it, your old school?” A complicated smile claimed her, bittersweet in its lack of depth. “Yes. Well, yes and no. I got plenty teased by classmates who didn’t appreciate my… academic fervour.”

“Bullied for your grades?” He seemed genuinely surprised by this. “Rather immature, if you ask me. ‘Round here, you’re more likely to be ragged on for failing studies. Granted, if someone wants to tease you, they’ll find a way…”

The slow swing of the tavern door diverted attention from their chat, Paisley's gaze fixating on the wizard wearing a bowler hat making an entrance. She felt a familiar knot of discomfort form in her stomach, and she couldn't help but voice her concern to Sebastian.

“Who is that man?” 

Sebastian lacked subtlety then, craning his head past the wooden beam to follow her line of sight. “Ah, that’s Harlow. Local thug, one of Rookwood’s goons.”

Paisley frowned, creased between eyebrows. “He’s turned up everywhere we have. Tombs & Scrolls, Honeydukes, and now here? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?” 

“Not something to fret about.” Her worry was dismissed with a quick head shake, but Sebastian explained before invalidation rooted in her gut. “Rookwood doesn’t dedicate much time terrorizing students, let alone Harlow. Unless you’re involved in some clandestine extra-curricular activity that I’m not aware of?”

“Not yet, at least.” 

He snorted, though persisted in assuaging her concerns. “Probably a coincidence. Everyone loves Honeydukes. Criminals can have a sweet tooth, too.”

“...And at Tomes & Scrolls?”

“It would shock me if he could read, for one thing.” Sebastian took a bite of sandwich, continuing through chews. “Maybe he fancied a bedtime story? Something to settle Rookwood in for rest after a long day of pilfering and purloining?”

Despite his attempts to quell her suspicions, Paisley was firmly planted in nervousness, chewing her thumbnail as she watched the foam dissipate from the dredges of her butterbeer. Perhaps it was that wariness ingrained in most women, saturating her mind and all correlations in anxiety, her senses on high alert. It annoyed her that Sebastian was blissfully ignorant of such a feeling.

To her relief, Harlow didn’t linger, having barely stepped beyond the threshold, departing almost as swiftly as he had arrived, accompanied by an equally smarmy wizard who was all legs and elbows.

“Am I right, or am I right? ” 

Sebastian’s smart-ass brand of reassurance was met with a deadpan glare. He raked a hand through his hair, sending it in a different direction than it was heading previously. "Look, if you're uneasy about it, we can always use the Floo to get back to the castle. I'm sure I've got some powder tucked away in my robes somewhere…”

-----

The rain had stopped completely as the duo exited The Three Broomsticks, the sunset obscured by thick but commonplace overcast, blocking out more light than usual for just past the dinner hour.

“There’s a public-access flame nearby,” Sebastian announced, striding around the tavern's corner, his hand fumbling within the inner recesses of his robes. "I'm pretty sure I've got enough powder for both of us. Always prepared for these eventualities."

“Right,” Paisley replied automatically, her attention stolen by a nearby group of witches and wizards, engrossed in animated discussion. 

“What in Merlin’s name?”

Sebastian’s exclamation caught her attention, and Paisley pulled herself to join him, immediately comprehending the cause for astonishment.

Before them was a flat, stone plaque, crowned by a stone-carved bust of Ignatia Wildsmith with a cloth gag bound tightly around her mouth. Paisley felt along the knot, attempting to pull it off, but it was an impossible effort; the muffling accessory was enchanted to be an integral feature of the carving itself. Her fingers grasped futilely at the edges, the stone damp from the rain, but even with the slip, she couldn't dislodge it.

“The Floo flame, it’s…” Sebastian frowned. “It’s been bewitched.” 

Paisley was on high alert before. Now, she was downright afraid. Thankfully, when she looked at Sebastian this time, his apprehension mirrored hers. “Come,” he uttered, taking her by the hand this time, the chill of fear now shared between them. “There’s another near Honeydukes.”

Intuition whispered to Paisley, confirming her suspicions when they discovered the second flame was extinguished as well, the inventor of Floo powder gagged from speaking, unable to name any guilty parties. Observers were keen to the sudden disappearance of transport to and from Hogsmeade, as small gatherings began to form around the out-of-place waypoints. “I’ll have Officer Singer investigate right away!” the cafe attendant shouted, vanishing inside to no doubt issue an urgent request via owl. 

“Sebastian,” Paisley spoke up, wary, voice cracking. “Someone doesn’t want us to leave Hogsmeade.”

He nodded, expression grim. “Not quickly, at least. I suggest we head back via the main road. It’s a short walk, and there’s always foot traffic.” 

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, Paisley needed little persuasion.

The students ducked out from the crowds, connecting to the road that led back to Hogwarts. As Paisley fell into step with her new friend, she peered over her shoulder towards the village, letting relief steep her nerves as she exhaled. 

Only in the safety and embrace of hindsight did their predicament become painfully clear.

They weren’t trapped in Hogsmeade. 

They were pigeonholed out of it.