#in my defense I don’t consider anyone on the clock

[darlingknave]

A chick at the coffee shop today kept fumbling my drink order while trying to strike up conversation with me while I gave vague replies and stared at my phone and my mother, my straight boomer republican MOTHER, had to tell me in the car that I’m an absolute idiot and that girl did not give me her disc so I could ‘talk about coffee sometime.’

I didn’t remember her disc, I didn’t want to talk to a random person about coffee

Rip

One time in college I told a guy "I am interested in sex" and he responded by recommending me some books on the sociology of sex

okay that’s funny

[dollysilena]

TRAINING WHEELS

CHAPTER THREE | BABY ON BOARD

ao3 | series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

five years ago, you stupidly had a fling with inarizaki athlete, miya atsumu– now, present day– he had a son he knew nothing about. you made sure it was going to stay that way, but as fate would have it, he unexpectedly stumbled back into your lives, now as volleyball’s biggest star.

wc & notes: 3.5k — this chapter was originally going to be 7k+ words, but for my own sanity during editing i decided to split it in two different chapters instead! i also thought it would be easier to read in separate chapters instead of just one really condensed one so pls forgive me 🗿

The past twelve hours had been a whirlwind for Miya Atsumu.

His day started late, but not out of his own fault! He swore it. It was just because his alarm clock didn’t go off. At least that’s what he told Coach Foster when he walked into practice late with a Starbucks frappuccino. But hey, at least he got one for everyone right? The team nutritionist yelled at him later for it because sugar wasn’t on the regiment, especially with the V-League season so soon. Hinata gladly slurped down the drink though, which consequently sent him into a sugar rush later. And once that happened, their coach chewed out Atsumu for the ginger’s erratic playing. It seemed like the scolding was neverending, but he shook it off as practice continued. He thought that the rest of the day was going to go on without any more hitches, up until he got a call from his brother. 

“She’s here right now with a kid. He’s four years old, and I don’t think the fact he looks like ya is a coincidence.”

The air stilled, and despite the clamor and ruckus of the gym around him, all Atsumu heard was the ringing in his ears and the silence on Osamu’s end. A kid?

There was no way. Osamu was just messing with him, right? It was just a prank, Suna or one of their friends probably put him up to it. There’s no way that… that he actually… He thought of you, something his mind hadn’t crossed paths with in awhile. You were just a girl who left him high and dry five years ago… without a word. He wanted to tell himself he wasn’t convinced, but something lurching in his stomach told him otherwise.

The denial didn’t stop Atsumu from abruptly running out of practice. He would deal with what the coaches had to say later.

FIVE YEARS AGO — INARIZAKI HIGH SCHOOL

“What’s up with ya?” Atsumu questioned, slumping down on the seat infront of your desk as he faced yours. “Yer acting funny, ya sick or something?”

Atsumu couldn’t care less about the fact he was bothering you in the middle of class, all he could think about is how weird you’ve been acting with him. He thought things were going good with you over the past few weeks, maybe a little too good considering you both… He shook it off. You’ve been acting odd all week, suddenly barely sparing him a glance. Despite the fact you both weren’t dating, he had to admit it was bugging him more than it should’ve.

“What makes you say that?” You responded, almost defensively. You didn’t look up from your math worksheet, and to anyone else, it would just look like you were focused on your work, but Atsumu knew you were distracted, you hadn’t moved from the same problem for over ten minutes. 

“Well, ya barely have been talking to me this week first of all,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And not to mention one of your friends told me you went home early yesterday because of food poisoning.” He didn’t mean to reveal that he had been asking around about you, but you didn’t seem to linger on it.

You fiddled with the pencil on your desk, clearly avoiding his eyes. “Why does it matter to you? It’s none of your business, Miya.”

Miya? Harsh.

“And here I thought ya liked me!” Atsumu replied, melodramatically clutching his chest as if he were wounded, albeit, his ego was admittedly a little bruised. “Of course what my girl does matters to me.”

You couldn’t help yourself from cracking a smile, and Atsumu considered it a victory. 

“We’re not even dating, we met a couple weeks ago,” you replied, shaking your head. 

Atsumu rolled his eyes. Though, you were right, you had never made anything official. It was all just harmless fun, right? 

“That didn’t seem to matter when we–”

“Be quiet!” you hissed in embarrassment. Atsumu smirked when he noticed how flustered you got. When you realized Atsumu wasn’t going to let up, you gave him another sigh. 

“I think I’m just not feeling well, probably a stomach bug or something.”

“Blegh!” Atsumu replied, sticking out his tongue. “Well don’t give it to me!”

You bore a small grin at him. Atsumu smiled back, happy that he was at least able to make you feel a little better that day.

He didn’t think that would be the last time he ever saw you.

He was going to walk you home that day and he even considered finally formally asking you out. Granted, he probably should have done that before the… bathroom incident, but he digressed. He went to your classroom later only to find your desk empty. Your classmates already said you left and he shrugged it off. He would just wait until the next day.

Then you were absent the next day, and the day after.

 It wasn’t until a whole week had passed where he felt himself starting to get worried.

You weren’t answering his texts, and after awhile, they didn’t even deliver anymore. He thought things were going well, at least to him they were… Whatever, he wasn’t going to let it get to him. If you didn’t want to talk to him anymore, so be it, it wasn’t his problem. People walked out on him all the time. He repeated it like a mantra, whatever, whatever, whatever.

But it doesn’t stop him from thinking.

As the days progressed, he felt himself plunging deeper into his doubtful thoughts.  You weren’t avoiding him on purpose were you? He didn’t realize how much it was getting to him until he missed practically every set during practice because he was too busy thinking of your smile at him instead of where Osamu’s hand was. He was tired of it, he finally decided he wasn’t going to wait for you to show up. He would get the answers himself.

Afterschool, he followed the trek to your house and stirred silently. Why was he even bothered this much about some girl he barely knew? You weren’t the first girl he was with, and he didn’t plan for you to be the last. So why was it bothering him so much? He wasn’t sure why, but it crept up his spine like a chill. 

Miya Atsumu isn’t someone you can leave, he’s always made sure of it. He’s never the one left behind. He doesn’t want to be. 

He stood on your doorstep, deliberating with himself if it was even worth it. But he didn’t come all this way for nothing. Even if you told him to get lost, atleast it would put an end to his endless lamenting. It would be better than having you plague him like a damn fever. He knocked.

He doesn’t expect your mother to answer.

“What do ya mean she moved?” Atsumu asked in disbelief.

“She’s gone to live with her grandmother in Kagawa,” your mother stated firmly. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing her anytime soon.”

Before Atsumu could pry for any other details, your mother spoke again.

“Don’t ever come back to this house.”

Then the door was slammed in his face.

PRESENT DAY

Despite his best attempts at staying in denial, he realized that all the signs were there. You were getting sick, avoiding him, your sudden disappearance. He should have known something was wrong when your mother forbade him from coming back without a reason. His mind was a flurry as he rushed through the streets of Osaka. The little voice in the back of his head that was saying it was impossible was getting flooded out, it was entirely too possible. 

In his rush inside Onigiri Miya, he was met with a body crashing into him. He looked down to see a horrified face infront of him, it’s yours. And in your arms, an unassuming boy that looked indisputably like him. A moment passed, as if the world stopped spinning on its axis. The panic seemed to be flooding out of your body and into the room. His mouth felt dry and whatever was spinning through his mind was suddenly a standstill. His gaze followed back to the boy, and his heart lurched.

There was no doubt about it, he had a son.

Even if you hadn’t told him, Atsumu could instinctively already tell, something in his gut just knew. He shared his smile, his brown eyes, and even his naturally dark hair that swept in the same way Atsumu’s did when he was that age. There was a piece of him out there, and he didn’t know all these years.

He barely choked out, “could we talk?”

While you both spoke at the table together, and as he gazed at Haru playing with Osamu and your friend not far away, he found himself wondering so many questions. What had Haru looked like when he was a baby? What was he like? Was he more energetic and lively like him? Or more quiet and reserved like his brother was? Was anyone there to help you through the pregnancy? What were his first words? Did he ever ask about him once he was old enough to understand what a father was?

“Atsumu, you realize what you’re asking right? You’re agreeing to be a father, which you just found out right now of all things. It’s a commitment, no take backsies.”

He knew he should’ve weighed the circumstances more, you were right after all, it was a commitment, a life-long one. Not to mention he barely found out an hour ago. Did he even know how to be a father? Infact, Atsumu hadn’t even considered kids in his life yet. He thought he had a long time before he thought he ever had to make that decision.

He thought about Haru, and how for years, he didn’t grow up with a father. His jaw hardened. Four years was too long for him to be absent. He couldn’t just… walk out. When he looked at Haru, he couldn’t possibly think of going on with living his life while knowing his son was out there. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

After your talk and once the situation was settled, atleast as much as it could be, Atsumu had offered to walk you home for the night. You decided to opt out of the company party you were attending for obvious reasons, and Naomi made sure to pass the news on to your boss about a “family emergency”.

 Now there he was, walking down the streets with his ex highschool fling, and his child. Whoever said life worked in unexpected ways, he wasn’t quite imagining this.

You both walked in silence, with Haru in your arms as he slept soundly. Atsumu wasn’t sure what to say, or if he even wanted to break the silence, so he kept quiet. Throughout the walk, he found himself stealing glances at you, and it felt as if he were meeting you all over again. You obviously weren’t the same girl he knew all those years ago. You held yourself up with a maturity he felt like he couldn’t match. Unlike him, sometimes he still felt like the clumsy kid he was in highschool. Maturity was something he always seemed to lack. His friends and brother always made sure to remind him of that whenever he behaved so. 

He looked down at Haru, still fast asleep. He imagined it was well past his bedtime now. You stifled a yawn as you carried the small boy, the tiredness seemed to be contagious. He saw your shoulders beginning to sag, and Atsumu realized you had been carrying him for the better portion of the walk.

“Here, let me take him,” he offered. “You’re tired.”

You looked up at him, with a raised eyebrow. “Have you held a kid before?”

He felt himself pause. Had he held a kid before? There were a few times at family reunions where he held the children of distant family members but that had all been for mere seconds before another family member scooped them up. He remembered how his mom was able to hold him and his brother at once for hours on end, how hard could it be?

“No, but I want to try seeing as I have one now.”

You laughed and extended Haru out to Atsumu, who gently took the boy as if he were made of porcelain. Haru shifted in his sleep, but comfortably adjusted into the setter’s arms.

He heard your laugh beside him and he immediately stiffened up. Had he done something wrong?

“He’s not a volleyball,” you chuckled, “hold him up from here.” You went to adjust Atsumu’s position and pushed up his arm so Haru’s weight could rest on it. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, apparently it was harder than he thought.

“Good,” you replied, patting his arm, and he had to stop himself from blushing when he felt your fingers brushing his arm. “Now just keep him there.”

Atsumu nodded as you continued your walk. It’s then that the thought hit him—when he was finally holding Haru in his arms—that he's his. 

His arms instinctively held Haru tighter. No, he couldn’t be doubtful now. There was too much on the line and too much time lost. Unlike the past four years, he swore that he would be there from now on, no matter what.

You both rounded the corner before you got to your apartment complex, a smaller building in the quieter part of the city. You both had lived here all this time, and he didn’t know. Had he ever walked down this street unknowingly?

“This is us,” you stated, gesturing to the building. He felt himself trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out. He just knew he didn’t want the night to end, there was still so much he had to know.

“Would you like to come in for a bit? I have some pictures of Haru I could show you.” You asked, and it was like you read his mind.

“I would like that.”

He followed you inside and into the elevator where you led him to your apartment. You flicked on the lights and Atsumu glanced around. He looked around and saw Haru’s toys laying about, pictures of the two of you framed around the home, he even spotted Haru’s homework still strewn out on the coffee table. You both crept inside, careful to be quiet as to not wake Haru. You led him down a hallway and opened a door to what he presumed was Haru’s room, and ushered him inside. 

Atsumu carried the boy inside his room, and looked around. He saw his drawings framed along the walls, toys, stuffed animals, and noticed a volleyball near his toy trunk. He made a mental note to ask Haru about that later. He padded over to the bed, and set him down so he was laying. You came up beside him, and tucked the covers over him before kissing his forehead. 

He realized this was the first time he was putting his son to sleep. Was this what having a family was like?

You both quietly exited the room, making sure to close Haru’s door so he wasn’t disturbed by you both outside.

“I can make us some tea,” you said, as he nodded. He didn’t even really like tea, he was just glad he could stay. He followed you to the kitchen, where he took a seat at the kitchen island while you put the kettle on the stove.

“Is it just ya two here?” He asked, looking around. You had some pictures framed up, as well as some photographs hung on the fridge which he could see. But from what he could tell, it was only you, Haru, and sometimes Naomi in the photos.

“Yup,” you responded, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above you. “Since Haru was born, really.”

Atsumu felt his heart in his stomach. “Even when ya were pregnant?”

Atsumu saw you still, and he hoped he didn’t open an old wound. He scolded himself for not being more sensitive, and letting his own curiosity get the better of him. 

“When I told my parents, they kicked me out,” you stated bluntly, putting the tea bags in the cups. “They sent me to live with my grandmother, who was amazingly supportive, but she died before Haru was born, so since then it was just us.”

Atsumu was silent, he wasn't sure what to say. I’m sorry? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there? But that wasn’t enough, it didn’t change what you had to go through. The thought of you being in that delivery room by yourself only added onto the guilt on his shoulders, and his heart sank even further when he realized you had to do everything else alone too.

“Atleast Haru’s birth was quick!” You joked, a smile beaming on your face. Despite all that, you were still… positive? Atsumu was in disbelief, he probably couldn’t go through a fraction of what you had and still manage to put on a brave front. He always got into a mood, as Osamu called it, even at the smallest of inconveniences. You pushed a cup of tea towards him which he took graciously.

“Yer amazing,” he said in awe.

“It’s just tea,” you laughed, blowing on your cup. Atsumu shook his head.

“No,” he responded. “For everything. For what ya had to go through, and what you’ve done for Haru. And at eighteen? Osamu was still packing my lunches when I was that age.”

You laughed in response and it made his cheeks warm. He liked the sound, he thought.

“Let me get those photo albums I was talking about,” you said before walking into another room. You came back a few minutes later holding a few photo books.

 “Do you wanna start with the first one?” You asked, holding one out.

Atsumu eagerly nodded as he took the dusty blue album, decorated with ribbons and stickers. He could tell you had decorated it yourself. It showcased a picture of you holding a newborn Haru in the hospital. The picture almost made Atsumu frown, knowing you were by yourself that day, but he ended up smiling seeing how proudly you beamed holding the baby. He opened the book and inspected inside.

There was a sonogram of each phase Haru was in during your pregnancy, and eventually a few photos of Haru being born in the hospital. He saw the tiny notes you wrote besides the pictures, and his mouth grew agape when he saw 3.68kg written next one of Haru’s pictures.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, noticing his expression. “He was a big baby, I guess since his dad’s a pro athlete and everything.”

His face grew more horrified and he almost wanted to apologize. He apologize to his mom too considering she had twins. Then another picture caught his attention.

 “Hey, what’s this one?” He asked, pointing to another photo.

He pointed towards a picture that looked somewhat recent, he could tell since Haru seemed to be almost the same age in the picture as he was now. It was of you in a graduation cap and gown holding up Haru proudly who looked like he was cheering. It definitely wasn’t your high school graduation since Haru was in it.

“Oh, that’s when I graduated from university last year.”

“Ya completed university?” Atsumu asked in astonishment.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Pretty proud of myself. I was working two jobs and had to take night classes for a couple years but I ended up getting my degree finally a few months ago, then I got a great job at the firm I’m at now.”

No, you’re not just amazing, you’re phenomenal.

The rest of the night was filled with you and Atsumu looking over Haru’s pictures, some of his favorites being Haru’s second birthday where he had cake painted across his face from where he tried to eat his birthday cake face-first, his first day of preschool (which he found out he started this year), and one of you and Haru at a festival with matching daifuku in hand. He made a mental note to take you both when he saw how brightly you both smiled. Whenever he wasn’t looking at the photos, he was paying attention to you. He was getting to know you again.

“It’s getting late,” you yawned. “I have work tomorrow, and I probably have to explain why I missed the party tonight.”

Atsumu groaned. “That reminds me, I have to explain to my coaches tomorrow why I ran out of practice, they probably won’t believe me though.”

You giggled, before sliding out the picture of Haru’s second birthday from the book. “Maybe you can use this as proof.”

Atsumu took the photo and smiled warmly in the picture in his hands. The picture would find a well-loved home in his wallet, but would later be replaced with a picture of the three of you adorning matching jerseys on Haru’s eighth birthday at one of Atsumu’s games.

reblogs, comments, & asks are appreciated!

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Justice for Barty Crouch Jr: Part 1/2

(Part 2)

This is a bit of a weird theory, and I'll confess, some of the evidence is not all that conclusive. But I didn't see anyone mention anything about this anywhere else...

When I reread the books recently, I noticed I really liked Mad-Eye Moody in Goblet of Fire. Moody in the fourth book is actually one of my favorite characters, he makes the top 10. But then I reached Order of the Phoenix and realized (again) that I hate Moody's guts.

The only conclusion I could draw was that I really liked Barty Crouch Jr. because, Moody in book 4, wasn't really Moody. So, I went back to Goblet of Fire to try and find out who Barty is, how his behavior as Moody, differed from the real deal in the later books, and why I liked him when I didn't like the real Moody.

And let's just say, I came to some interesting conclusions...

This post ended up being pretty long, so I've divided it up into two. But my thesis is:

Barty was a Death eater, but he didn't torture the Longbottoms.

He didn't want Harry to be hurt during the Tornoment and actually cared about him.

And I can prove it!

Reasons for Doubt

When reviewing all the scenes of Barty Jr, it was made clear pretty quickly that Barty wasn't really trying to fool anyone. Actually, he seemed to be actively sabotaging himself.

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, “Moody, old man ... what a thing to say!” “We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” said Karkaroff loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 279)

From the very beginning, Barty is outright telling everyone what happened. And exactly how:

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!” said Moody. “It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. ... I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category. ...” “You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” said Karkaroff coldly, “and a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 279-280)

He goes as far as to explain how he got Harry into the tournament. To the point even Karkaroff thinks it's strange Moody would bother putting so much thought into it. And he's right, it is super strange.

Barty shouldn't be explaining that to the people he is supposedly trying to deceive. It's so incredibly revealing and counterproductive. And it's not that Barty is stupid, he shows he is both intelligent and competent to a degree it's clear that if he really wanted to not be discovered he wouldn't be (he transfigured his father's corpse to a bone and buried it in the forest when he didn't wish to be found out, clearly, he can get away with murder when he wants to). So why all of this? Why try so hard to tell them exactly what's going on? Why is he showing his hand?

It won't be out of character for Moody to not mention all of it. He could not go into as much detail easily. But, he chooses to go into detail about the very method he used to get Harry chosen for the tournament. Like he's trying to get himself caught.

“So . . . whoever conjured the Dark Mark . . .” said Hermione slowly, “were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?” “Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione,” said Mr. Weasley. “But I’ll tell you this . . . it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I’d be very surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death Eater once, even if they’re not now. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 143)

This is an earlier note from Hermione, and I agree with her 100%. The goal of Barty when casting the Dark Mark isn't clear. We know he is a marked Death Eater, but so are Regulus and Snape. We know not all Death Eaters agreed with everything they did, and some of them had regrets. And it's kind of interesting this idea that Barty cast the Dark Mark to scare the attackers off was planted this early in the book.

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air. “Teaching,” said Moody. “Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms. “Yep,” said Moody.

(Goblet of Fire, page 206)

I wanted to add this scene just because of the "yep" as his response to McGonagall, but this entire conversation, actually is noteworthy. Why? Well, the mannerism.

Moody whom we meet in book 5 and onwards doesn't speak or act like this. The mannerisms and speech patterns we see in this conversation are 100% Barty Crouch Jr. And this isn't the only scene in which his own mannerisms peek through because he isn't putting much effort into his act.

Here are some examples of how Moody talks in book 5, for comparison:

“Well, congratulations,” said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 169)

“Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.” “Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs. Weasley. “ ’Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake. . . . Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him —”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 491)

He's more gruff, more blunt, more paranoid. He isn't as gentle with Harry and Ron as Barty was (I'll showcase some of these moments later). And he shows full faith in Dumbledore's decisions. Something, Barty doesn't do even when pretending to be Moody.

Some Background

I want to talk about Barty's trial and Azkaban sentence for a bit, along with his relationship with his father as it explains a lot about him as a character...

and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. “You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,” he said clearly, “so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous —” “Father,” said the boy with the straw-colored hair. “Father . . . please . . .” “— that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror — Frank Longbottom — and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —” “Father, I didn’t!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I didn’t, I swear it, Father, don’t send me back to the dementors —”

(Goblet of Fire, page 594)

Does this look like a hardened Death Eater who was happy to torture the Longbottoms and proud to serve his lord?

No, this is a terrified nineteen-year-old kid who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

Barty continues and calls:

“Mother!” screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. “Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me!”

...

“No! Mother, no! I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t know! Don’t send me there, don’t let him!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 595)

Barty calls this as Bellatrix and the Lestranges are completely calm, taking credit for torturing the Longbottoms. Shouting at Crouch Sr, that Voldemort would return. Barty isn't doing that, he isn't the fanatic Death Eaters, he's a scared boy:

But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. “I’m your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I’m your son!” “You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!” The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed. “Take them away!” Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. “Take them away, and may they rot there!” “Father! Father, I wasn’t involved! No! No! Father, please!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 596)

Barty keeps swearing he wasn't involved and that he didn't do it. that it wasn't him. Compared to how calm the three Lestranges are — it's clear something's up.

I think Barty is telling the truth here. I think he really didn't torture the Longbottoms.

Barty was still acting as a scared boy, just like in his trial, even in front of only dementors and Death Eaters, when there was no need to act. He is described by Sirius when he arrived in Azkaban:

I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty was young and scared and kept to the same behavior even with no audience to convince — which means it wasn't a lie. It wasn't an act. He really didn't do it.

Sirius talks a little bit about Braty's childhood, his relationship with Crouch Sr and the events leading up to his trial:

“Crouch’s own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”

...

“Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son.” He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. “Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

...

“...Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty, at the time of his trial and sentence, wasn't even for sure a Death Eater. He wasn't actually caught doing anything, he was caught with Death Eaters who escaped an Azkaban sentence, which means Death Eaters other than the Lestranges. This means he wasn't even caught on the scene of the Longbottoms torture, but somewhere else and unrelated. It proves even more that Barty was innocent regarding the torture of Frank and Alice.

We know he was a Death Eater because he could cast the Dark Mark. But, I think he wasn't involved in torturing the Longbottoms or anyone, for that matter. I don't think he had it in him before Azkaban and years of torment by his father.

The other thing of note is Crouch's treatment of his son. He was an absent father, caring more for his ministry position than his family. And we see later in GoF that Barty despises his father. I think he disliked him even before being kept under the imperious curse for years. I think that's what pushed Barty to become a Death Eater, it was something to spite his father. To create a distance between them.

His murder of his father during GoF is probably the only murder he wanted a part of. Actually, his father is the only person we know he killed. He didn't get the chance to kill the real Moody, and he never killed anyone else.

Once the boy [Barty Jr] had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him

(Goblet of Fire, page 529)

More from Sirius that strengthens my former point. Barty joined the Death Eaters, in large to go against his father.

This vendetta against his father is the main reason I believe Barty chooses this plan to aid Voldemort. Well, there are some other reasons, but using the tournament is a good way for him to mess with his father's reputation. That same reputation that was more important to him than his own son.

As a Teacher and Mentor

A lot of fans like to say Remus Lupin was the best DADA teacher Harry had, I'd actually argue it was Moody (aka Barty). I'm saying that because Barty-as-Moody was the one who taught Harry many of the techniques and approaches he keeps going back to in the books.

The constant vigilance that saves him multiple times is from Barty, not the real Moody.

His resistance to the imperious curse.

When Harry quotes Moody in his head under certain situations for the advice he was given, it's not advice from the real Moody but from Barty:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy

(Order of the Phoenix, page 630)

This above quote is based on Barty's advice in GoF, not the real Moody.

Barty made Harry think of becoming an auror. He was the one who convinced him he could become one:

“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” “No,” said Harry, taken aback. “You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed . . . and incidentally . . . I’m guessing you weren’t just taking that egg for a walk tonight?” “Er — no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working out the clue.” Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. “Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter. . . . See you in the morning. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 477-478)

Barty did more for Harry's self-esteem than any other teacher.

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double. “Look at that, you lot ... Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 232)

In the above scene, Barty is delighted by Harry's resistance of the imperious. He is so proud and fond. I already mentioned and will continue showing how Barty did very little acting when he pretended to be Moody, as such, I don't think he's pretending here either. I think he actually is delighted.

And, I mean, think about it, why would a servant loyal to Voldemort teach Harry Potter how to resist the imperius? Why would he keep practicing with him throughout the year to make sure he was good at it? Why make sure Harry knows people would want to control him and he should make it hard for them?

The only conclusion I can come to is that he is trying to help Harry from a limited position. Why and How will be discussed later.

Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. “Neville?” Hermione said gently. “Neville, what — ?” But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard. “It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. ...” Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry. “You all right, are you, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly. Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending ... well ... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 219)

And he wasn't only the best DADA teacher for Harry, he was the best teacher for Neville too. He actually helped the son of the Longbottoms he was sent to Azkaban for torturing.

Just, he is the only adult attempting to build up Neville's confidence in himself and his abilities. He encourages Neville's love of Herbology and doesn't ridicule him like most other adults in Neville's life.

Also in the above quote, he clearly wants to tell Harry more. "but you’ve got to know", he says. He is trying to prepare Harry for what's to come. Why would he do that if he wants him dead?

As a Defender of Harry

To continue off Barty actually steps up to defend Harry a lot throughout the book. Even at times, he won't necessarily have to. I mean, the real Moody was never this protective of Harry. Sure, he kept him safe, but he didn't really care for Harry's feelings and self-esteem. Barty did.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from behind them. Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff’s face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him

(Goblet of Fire, page 258)

He's scaring Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students away from Harry. The moment before this quote had the Durmstrang students and Karkaroff noticing Harry for the first time as they were leaving the Great Hall on the day they arrived at Hogwarts. They all freeze and stare at Harry, knowing his story and probably about to ask him questions, it's not like Karkaroff would've done anything in the Great Hall. But Moody (Barty) steps in to fend off Harry's discomfort! Hes not even in actual physical danger! Just discomfort!

Harry hesitated. He’d been afraid of this — but he hadn’t told Cedric, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules. “It’s all right,” said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. “Cheating’s a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and always has been.” “I didn’t cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was — a sort of accident that I found out.” Moody grinned. “I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 343-344)

Moody is glad Harry knows about the dragons, and that could be explained by wanting him to win so he could get to the graveyard (that plan had so many problems in it that I'll get to later) but that isn't the only thing he reveals here. He calls out Dumbledore and his attitude. He shows his dislike towards Dumbledore and his moral flexibility regarding cheating - two things the real Moody will never say. And he would definitely not phrase them like this. This whole conversation — that's all Barty.

Barty, who is actually encouraging Harry and belittling Dumbledore.

That sentence about proving Dumbledore's human, I think Barty shares that feeling. He agrees with the other headmasters on that. Even if he hates Karkaroff's guts.

Because he actually does hate all the Death Eaters that got away genuinely, but not for the same reasons as, let's say, Bellatrix. Bellatrix dislikes them for their lack of loyalty to their lord; Barty hates them out of envy.

Barty was sent to Azkaban for his mark even if he never tortured or killed anyone. And these other Death Eaters, ones he might know killed or tortured, got out scott-free. He was fought alongside them and still sent to the dementors instead of being let go. And he is bitter.

Also, important to remember, that a year in Azkaban and then twelve years under the Imperius curse didn't leave him unscathed. He is not mentally or emotionally well or anything close to it when we meet him in the books.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths.” “I haven’t got any,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you’ve got strengths if I say you’ve got them. Think now. What are you best at?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 344)

I love this scene. Like, this is the first ever time an adult with authority, a teacher, tells Harry how great he is. I talked about the fact Harry is clever and magically powerful but has really low self-esteem. And Barty actually argues with him. Bart (as Moody) makes him believe he could become something. That he has things he is good at.

One of this book's antagonists is the first person to tell Harry he has strengths. That's just all levels of messed up.

It shows Barty Crouch Jr actually does more for Harry's emotional well-being than any other professor he had. More than McGonagall, more than Lupin. Actually, the only adult who tries to help Harry with more care than Barty, is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. It's just insane that Barty, a Death Eater, actually understood Harry and went out of his way to help with his insecurities and make him comfortable more than Molly Weasley did.

Now, let's talk about the Farret Incident because it's interesting too. both regarding his defense of Harry and his hatred of the Death Eaters that got away.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, page 205)

Barty steps in to defend Harry because he does it a lot. It's why I placed this moment in this section. One would expect someone who wants Harry to die to not mind if he was cursed a bit, it's not like Draco was about to kill him, but no, he defends him even when no one sees him there.

But specifically in this incident, I want to mention how personal he gets about this. Barty's disdain towards the Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban is very real and very dangerous to Draco. He's furious they didn't need to spend a year in hell on earth only to then be enslaved by a curse for 12 years by their father who kept them like a dirty secret in the basement.

As I mentioned above, I don't think Barty is mentally sound, but I think he genuinely cares about Harry and didn't torture the Longbottoms.

In the next post, I go through the final scene of Barty in the book, and explain the whole plan Barty had.

Part 2 >>

[she-karev]

The Wingman (Jackson Avery x Alex Karev's Sister Friendship Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Three of Three

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

AN: Here’s the final chapter guys, I hope you like the friendship I’m developing between Amber and Jackson and let me be clear for those that are worried there will be NO LOVE TRIANGLE. I want to show that men and women can be friends and nothing more unlike what the show sponsors. The picture above is Amber's club outfit. I thought it gave Clueless vibes which was perfect for the 90's theme bar she and Jackson went to.

Summary: Amber gets answers from Andrew and Jackson.

Words: 2854

I walk down the hall after clocking in my hours at the clinic. It’s a little before 5 and thankfully stitching up people has lessened my stress after my talk with Jackson. I thought I was out of the woods when I considered the possibility that it was a slip of the tongue. But then Avery had to ruin it by suggesting my previous fear, that he meant it.

It feels like every fiber in my being is locked up in defense in preparation for after that ‘I love you’. It’s been about 10 hours since that last call and I am flinching every time my ringer goes off. I keep telling myself it was a slip but the evil voice in my head is telling me it wasn’t and I freak out all over again. If I wasn’t doing my breathing exercises, I would be having a panic attack and look more insane.

Three months isn’t long enough time to tell someone you love them. I know I’m not an expert in this but I know enough that it is way too soon for that and Andrew should know that. He should know we’re not at the place yet hell I don’t even know if I can get to that place on my own. I’ve never said it to anyone except for my brothers so it’s a big deal. It’s a big thing and it puts me out there for hurt and disappointment if this goes sideways and I have had enough hurt and disappointment in my life. As if he can sense my distress my phone rings and I inhale deeply at the sight of Andrew’s name on the screen. I need to rip this off like a band aid so I go inside a storage closet alone and close the door.

I take a deep breath and answer putting the phone to my ear, “Hey.” I start off with a casual greeting.

“Hey.” I can tell Andrew is trying the same as well, “So when we said goodbye earlier, I think something slipped out before I hung up, did you by any chance hear it?”

I clear my throat, “I think you and I both know I did.”

“Right.” Andrew says knowingly, “Look I’ve been up for about 24 hours. I’ve been on the phone with aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone who wants to know how the surgery is going and at the end of the call I say I love you. I mean they’re my family and I know it’s sappy but we say I love you because we care and when I said it to you it was an instinct after doing it about 25 times. You could’ve been the pizza guy and I would tell you I love you.” I close my eyes, look up at the ceiling and mouth ‘thank you’ to a higher power, “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I lean against the wall much more calm when my suspicion was confirmed and my fear is put to bed, “I kind of thought that was the case because I mean if it was real it would be…” I struggle to find the words.

“Creepy?” Andrew asks amused, “Horrifying? Make you want to move to Canada and change your name?”

“Yeah, all of those things cover it.” We chuckle, “Well I’m glad we could clear the air and allow me to breathe it in.”

“I freaked you out huh?”

“Oh big time.” I tell him truthfully, “I was worried there was gonna be a proposal by the time you get back.”

“Oh god no.” Andrew enunciates, “No you don’t have to worry about me rushing things too fast. I mean my parents also had a horrible divorce and it left scars in me too trust me.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I wince at what I made it sound, “No that’s not what I meant I just meant I’m glad we’re both in the same place and same pace. I’m glad that you get it, it’s uh…it’s refreshing.” I mean that genuinely because I’ve never had someone who shares my reservations.

“Yeah, it really is.” I can hear him grinning at that tone, “I mean I’ve never had a girl be so cool about this and not freak out over where this is going. I like that about you.”

I smile at that, “Well I like that you like that about me. Most guys have been put off by my mellow attitude and take the role of the clingy girlfriend I’m expected to play. And then there are the guys that think I’m friends with them to get in their pants instead of just being friends.” I groan at that reminder, “Let me ask you, do I give off a slutty demeanor?”

Andrew is silent for a moment and I think I caught him off guard, “Is this a serious question? Do I lose points for this?”

“I like sex with men, I admit that, you know that. Despite that I am smart, I practice safe sex, I ask questions before going home with a stranger. And I do not I repeat not make a move on my boss after a night drinking and friendly conversation that he misinterprets. Do I just scream ‘I want you’ vibes all the time? Men and women can’t be friends now? Just friends?”

“I’m guessing something happened to make you unload on me?” Andrew sees through it even from another country.

“Yeah. Long story short I hung out with Avery the other night, I just wanted to buy him a drink to show my appreciation for not getting me fired. I even helped him get random girl’s numbers around the bar. We had a good time, we had conversations about movies and everything else I did with my guy friends. I thought he and I were friends, that’s it but instead I got accused of wanting to get in his pants when I came to him for advice. Egotistical jackass.”

“Okay as mad as I am for you right now I kind of have to ask how you approached him and what you asked before he said that very offensive thing.”

I sigh and recollect my memory, “I told Alex to leave us alone and I asked him…” I groan in realization as I hold the phone to my ear.

“What did you ask?” Andrew asks me with a knowing tone.

“I asked him what is the shortest time in realizing you love someone.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, “I will give him this it was not the best opening line for me to start with. Still, he could have asked before accusing me.”

“Yeah, that’s his own fault.” Andrew agrees, “But maybe you both can admit what you did wrong and go back to being just friends. I mean look he’s a good guy, he’s loyal and fun, he’s just…”

I grin and finish, “An idiot?”

“I’m not agreeing nor disagreeing with you calling our respective boss an idiot.” I shake my head and him playing neutral, “But hypothetically if I was working somewhere else I would say yes.”

“Yeah.” I grin wider, “He did what my idiot brother would have done.”

“Which one?”

“They’re both idiots take your pick.” We chuckle at my insult and I realize I need to go, “I gotta get back out there, let me know when you get on a plane.”

“I will, I’m counting the minutes till I see you again.” I smile at his sincerity.

“Me too. Bring me back a t shirt, you can guess my body size.”

“Oh I know your body.” Andrew tells me breathy causing me to inhale as lust takes over, “All I have to do is imagine my hands on it.”

“Okay you are being mean right now.” I tell him out of breath, “Call me when you’re alone at 2 am in my time zone. I’ll be up late depending on what my plans are, I’ll get back to you on it bye.”

“Bye. Don’t worry I’m not gonna end this with an I love you.”

“I appreciate it I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up on him this time feeling more relaxed than the last call.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackson packs his stuff in the attendings lounge getting ready to leave with only Maggie in the room. He suspects after the cafeteria that Amber would never want to hang out with him again, not that he can blame her. He chastises himself for listening to his mother and ignoring Alex’s advice. Now not only did he lose his wingman he also hurt a girl he actually liked hanging out with.

The door opens and Amber walks in looking fabulous. She’s wearing a yellow checkered cape blazer with yellow checkered shorts to match. Her black lace bralette is slightly showing on the opening of the blazer with a gold necklace to compliment her long neck. Her makeup is done especially pretty with her lips painted red and her eyeliner making her blue eyes stand out. Her long blonde hair is down with loose waves. And finally, she’s wearing black closed-toed heels making her taller than usual. Maggie and Jackson both look at her stunned after spending the day with her in scrubs and a ponytail.

Maggie whistles, “Damn girl you look hot.”

Amber chuckles, “Yeah, I do don’t I? I wanted to sport the Cher look for tonight, it’s a 90’s theme.”

“Alicia Silverstone would eat her heart out, just don’t let Alex see you he’ll lock you up. Where are you going anyway?”

“Well, I decided to show mercy on a idiot friend of mine who makes poor assumptions.” Jackson winces and nods in agreement, “I realized I am also partly at fault and shouldn’t let a miscommunication get in the way of a fun night with a friend.”

Jackson’s eyes soften at that, “Well I’m sure he’s very sorry and would love to express his apologies with many drinks. No strings, no rewards just a friendly apology.”

Maggie sees what’s happening and asks one thing, “Do Alex and DeLuca need to be worried?”

Both of them say in unison, “No.”

“Then have fun.” Maggie tells them cheerfully, “But not too much fun. I’ll see you both tomorrow, bye.” They say bye as Maggie leaves the room and they both face each other alone.

“I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you.” Jackson starts, “I had my mother’s voice in my head and I panicked because I thought I was headed for a fall here and needed to back up. But it wasn’t fair to you as my friend and you don’t have to go out with me tonight if your still mad, I’ll get it.”

Amber inhales and exhales, “I should’ve started with a more specific opening in the cafeteria. I inadvertently led you to believe that this was something more for me and that led you to freak out. We’re both at fault here and we both suck at communication.” Jackson laughs at that and Amber smiles, “Yeah and you were right by the way it was a slip of the tongue. DeLuca told me and we both agreed the pace we’re going is good and there’s no need to rush thank god.”

“I’m glad you were able to clear up that mess. It shows your communication skills are growing.”

Amber nods before working into another issue, “Look I didn’t mean to make it sound like you did what you did to look for a reward I just…I just don’t know why you would do that for me. We don’t know each other, we never talked before that day so I’m stumped on why you would go to great lengths to defend me and save my job. Why did you do it?”

Jackson rubs the back of his neck and sits in a chair, “…About 7 years ago there was a shooting here in the hospital. I was there when it happened and I mean right there in the middle of all that chaos. I lost two of my friends that day because of that maniac and I had nightmares about it for months.”

Amber crosses her arms as she listens attentively, “And then like some sick joke there was a shooting at a college campus a few months after that. I was in the O.R. assisting with a shooting victim or what we thought was a shooting victim…it was the shooter. I couldn’t help save a guy like the guy who killed my friends so I walked out. I walked out and helped out with the overflow with Karev. He wasn’t mad that the shooter was taking up O.R. space, if anything he was sympathetic telling me the shooter was sick. It was that moment he told me that his brother snapped and tried to kill his little sister and that’s why he wasn’t mad.” Amber looks at him surprised that he knew before anyone else

“And about a week after that I couldn’t help but worry how that kid sister of his was gonna be after what happened to her. I knew what it was like to be a victim of a psychotic episode and I was a mess after. I was a mess and I was a grown man, for a kid to go through that…I wondered what I could do to mend that if I had the chance. I saw that chance when Jennings was ready to fire you. I saw how hard you have worked to overcome that pain and you shouldn’t be punished for surviving it as best as you could. I made that clear to him as well as my intention to help you bring him down if he bothered you with this again.” Amber stands there still processing as Jackson finishes, “You think that your past is something holding you back but it’s not, it made you a freaking warrior. I see that even if you can’t.”

Amber looks at him blankly with an unknown expression that he interprets as sadness and he speaks fast, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you I just-”

Amber suddenly moves and gives him a hug. Jackson is completely shocked from his chair and takes a moment before carefully putting his arm over her back to hug her back registering she’s sniffling indicating she’s crying. He keeps his arm still so that he doesn’t ruin the moment until she backs away to stop hugging. He sees that she’s wiping a stray tear.

“You better not have ruined my eye liner.” Amber tells him flatly causing him to chuckle lightly, “Thank you I just…thank you.”

Jackson can see it’s hard for her to be vulnerable to him in that moment and simply replied, “Your welcome.” He stands up, “Shall we?”

Amber raises an eyebrow and looks up at him suspiciously, “Just as friends?”

Jackson chuckles, “Don’t worry I want to go through life with at least one female friend I didn’t sleep with and I think you’ll help with that.”

Amber looks relieved, “Good so we’re on the same page finally.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about anything from me I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not that I wouldn’t it’s just…you’re a fetus.” Amber chuckles at that, “I mean you could’ve been my fetus.”

“Mmm I don’t think I’m that young.”

Jackson raises an eyebrow, “It’s weird I thought you were gonna say I’m not that old.”

Amber cackles at that, “Oh no!”

“Your horrible.” Jackson rolls his eyes at Amber who walks toward the door before saying something.

“You don’t have to worry about me coming on to you, I mean your cute it’s just…” Amber thinks of an explanation, “You were with my brother since he was a second year. Your both the same age, you’ve known each other for years, sleeping with you would be like sleeping with him.”

Jackson nods full heartedly, “Yeah exactly and your his sister I mean sleeping with you would be like sleeping with my little sister. I’ve never had one but I know that’s what it would feel like. I’m really glad we’re on the same page and that we can be friends.”

“Absolutely totally agree.” Amber says with a grin and walks to the door before adding, “ Besides I prefer my men manly.”

Jackson is taken back by that as Amber opens the door, “Am I not manly?” He asks her offended.

Amber purses her lips and turns to look at him amused, “You need my help to get women to sleep with you. DeLuca got me in bed all on his own even after he almost broke my nose and spilled coffee all over me.” Jackson raises an eyebrow at that story, “Are we gonna stand here and talk about how my boyfriend picked me up or do you want me to help you pick up women?”

“Let’s get out of here while the night is young.” Jackson says quickly and they both leave the room for another night of a friend helping a friend.

[theredribbon]

Witchcraft Series - Warding FAQ

What is Warding? 

Warding is considered an energetic field one creates through ritual and other means to protect themselves, their home, and their scared places. Warding is used to keep out negative and malicious intents or things specific to your intentions. 

Do I have to learn how to Ward as a baby or intermediate practitioner? 

You don’t have to learn anything you don’t want to. However, warding is a major staple of protection work. Learning how to protect yourself magically, I believe, is one of the first things someone should learn. I say this because you don’t know who might be unhappy with you and try to throw a curse your way or what malicious spirit might attach to you. Your wards will act as your first defense, as a wall between you whatever negative energy is trying to come to you. 

Do I have to Ward everything I own? 

No. Generally, one ward over your home can protect most within it and protect from things try to come in. However, warding is something that should be kept up with and maintained often. Energy dissipates and those who do not practice energy work often, might struggle with the long term up keep. 

Okay, I’m convinced I need Wards. What now? 

You start by grounding yourself and your magic. You always want to ground yourself before doing any kind of spell work. Next, you want to cleanse your space, self, or object that you want to protect. You don’t want to trap negative energy or anything you don’t want inside the wards. The next step is to figure out a method that works the best for you. Over time, I’ve taken bits and pieces from different methods and that is what has worked the best for me. This may not be the case for everyone so, please experiment and figure out what works the best for you. 

The method I first started with was Incense Warding. With this, however, I created a sigil that was specific to me and my cause for warding. I drew this sigil by doors, windows, and the main corners of my home to create a ward that would match the shape of my house. I put emphasis on there I needed the wards to be the strongest.  If you cannot use incense, you can use water and essential oils to spray VS walk the smoke around. 

Now, for a small object you’ll want to spray or hold over the smoke of the incense. Reach out and feel the object and try to connect with it. You’ll want to begin to imagine a field of energy incasing the object snugly, protectively. You’ll want to put your energy and intent to protect from XYZ into the ward. Be as specific as you can be - warding from negativity may not necessarily ward you from danger or from mischief. Repeat until you feel your message has gotten through the ward is staying put. 

The method for something larger stays about the same but you walk around and spray or walk the smoke around multiple parts. If you’re warding your home or something large, be sure to ward not only a wall barrier but create a floor and ceiling for it. Completely incase the object. 

Don’t be afraid to do layers! Layers are good and will provide more of a defense.

Does it matter what direction I go in when I Ward? 

Yes. As a preference, I start North, but no matter where you start you want to make sure you move around clock-wise; to the right. By doing this you’re essentially promoting progression and creating things. By going counter clock-wise, you are doing the opposite - destruction and reserval. 

Do I have to ward to keep everything  out?

No. You can ward out whatever you want. You can be as specific as you need or want to be.

What incense, herbs, or essential oils can I use? 

You want to use things that protective properties such as...

Bay leaves Cinnamon Black Pepper Mustard Seed Black Salt (non-ingestible) Vervain Mugwort  Rosemary 

Do my Wards last forever? 

Unfourtently, no they do not. Energy dissipates over time and your wards will begin to grow weak before completely going away. However, if someone or something in particular is trying to bring down your wards, this will also weaken them and cause your wards to fade. 

How do I keep my Wards from fading?

Keep an eye on them and do routine maintenance on them. 

All in all, wards are a practitioner’s best friend, next to cleansing and grounding of course. It’s one of the fundamentals everyone starting out should learn to some capacity. There are billions of ways to ward, you just have to begin experimenting with what works best for you! Not everybody’s practice will be the same; as it shouldn’t be. If anyone has any questions about warding or more, please send me an ask! 

Good vibes to all! ✨ ✨ ✨

[myherowritings]

Three in the Morning

— You’ve missed your best friend after not seeing him for over a week. To fix that problem, you show up at his window at three in the morning to fill the Iwaizumi-shaped void in your heart.

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 2.9k genre: college/university au, fluff warnings: intoxication (reader is tipsy hghfjsd), jealous reader at one point, cuddling in bed, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: written for bnha sanctuary one prompt haikyuu collab! :D a bunch of writers wrote their take on the same prompt “it’s 3am why are you outside my window” and this is the fic i came up with based on it! check out the other amazing fics here u won’t regret it ;) xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Walking around in the middle of the night just the slightest bit tipsy wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done in your whole college career, but you could safely say it wasn’t the dumbest— Not that it was something you should be proud of.

You and your roommates had just gotten home from a party and, for some odd reason, you had the sudden urge to see one of your best friends, Iwaizumi Hajime, right at that very moment. He had been studying for midterms all week and you weren’t able to hang out with each other like you normally did, causing a Iwaizumi-shaped void that you wanted to fill. (In a strictly platonic way, of course.) 

And when you were half-sleep deprived, half-inebriated, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be rather...impulsive. From ordering too much takeout from any “open 24-hour” restaurant within a five mile radius, to uploading a video of you trying to come up with the perfect pasta recipe, you’ve done a handful of bizarre things during the ungodly hours of the night. But even you weren’t sure what was going on through your mind that convinced you sneaking out of your apartment and heading to Iwaizumi’s nearby was the best course of action while still slightly intoxicated. 

The clock on your phone read that it was only a quarter ‘til three and you quickly shrugged on a jacket and sent Iwaizumi a sloppy “i’m omw iwaaaachann” text before stepping foot outside your door, making sure to shut it silently as to not awaken your roommates who had just fallen asleep. 

As you made your way through your apartment complex, the thought briefly crossed your mind that Iwaizumi might be sleeping at the moment, especially since he had just finished his midterm exams, but you shrugged it off. You would cross that hurdle when you got there. 

And so, when you finally—through some miracle from above—arrived at Iwaizumi’s in one piece, you weren’t sure what else to do other then stare at his half cracked open window. Since he lived on the second floor, it wasn't uncommon for him to leave a window open for air to come through during the hot seasons. 

“Iwaizumi!” you yelled in a quiet whisper, hoping the wind would carry your words into his apartment for you. 

When you received no reply, you pulled our your phone and began to message him. Although Iwaizumi liked to pretend he was an unsentimental guy who didn’t have time to deal with others’ bullshit, it was obvious that was false. He cared a lot about everyone, especially his friends. Maybe even too much. And one of the ways he showed he secretly cared was always having his phone on full ringer in case anyone needed help in the middle of the night— Something that was surprisingly quite common when you were friends with the chaos that was Oikawa.

Would it be mean to use that knowledge to your own advantage and spam Iwaizumi until he replied? 

Maybe. 

But in your defense, you were practically having an emergency only he could help with. You desperately needed your Iwaizumi fix after not having seen him in over a week and there was no one better to help you that problem than Iwaizumi himself. 

Besides, texting him until he wakes up would be better than Romeo-and-Julieting this and climbing in through his window. Trying to scale a building while tipsy was too idiotic, even for you.

Y/N: are u awakeee?

Y/N: wakey wakey 

Y/N: i miss u :(

Y/N: i’m outside ur window wink wonk

Y/N: iwaaa >.>

There was a cacophonous sound of loud text chimes ringing one after the other followed by a deep grunt and stretching sound. You pictured Iwaizumi blearily getting out of bed and checking his phone that he kept across the room (to minimize at-night screen time, he claimed) with a heavy-lidded look on his face. 

After a few seconds of unidentifiable shuffles, you heard a strangled cry of, “What the—?!” before you saw the shadow of his head through the window screen. 

“Y/N?” he asked incredulously, voice still rough and scratchy from having just been awakened. 

You waved, beaming wildly. “Iwaizumi!” 

There was a deep sigh as he cracked the glass open even wider. “It’s three in the morning— Why are you outside my window?” He peered down at you almost stumbling on the spot. “And are you drunk?”

“Barely,” you assured, though you still felt a slight buzz in your fingertips. “I missed you so I came here.” 

“I— What? I mean— Huh?” he demanded, visible confusion in his tone. He rubbed his forehead before correcting himself. “I mean I miss you too. But it’s three in the morning! You couldn’t wait to miss me in a few hours instead?” 

You didn’t know whether to pout because he didn’t grow some Rapunzel hair and let you climb it up to the window and fall into his open arms like you’d imagined, or cheer because he said he missed you too. Blissfully, you chose the latter. “You miss me?” 

“Is that really all you heard?” said Iwaizumi with a snort before shaking his head in defeat. “Come up here. I’ll unlock the door for you.” 

Your face lit up instantly as you nodded, bounding up the stairs of his apartment building and meeting with him face-to-face at his doorstep. 

He had his arms folded over his chest as he waited for you at the entrance and, though he had tired circles under his eyes and still seemed half-asleep, was looking as attractive as ever. Not even the white polka dots on his pajama shorts could talk away from that fact. If anything, it made him all the more adorable. 

“Iwa-chan!” you greeted excitedly, but still careful as to make sure you weren’t loud enough to wake up his roommate. You opened your arms out and he begrudgingly accepted your embrace. (Well, he tried to seem begrudging at least. But you saw his hidden smile as you nestled your chin on his shoulder.) “I missed you.”

“You said that already, dumbass,” he said with a tsk. He patted the top of your head before pulling away from your hug promptly. “You’re cold. Have you been standing outside for long?” 

Pursing your lips, you looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t feel cold.” 

“Because you’re too drunk to register it, probably.” With his warm hand on the small of your back, Iwaizumi ushered you inside and shut the door behind you. “Let’s go to my room so we don’t wake up my roommate, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

Having visited his place so many times before, you knew it like it was your own apartment— Disregard the fact that your apartments had almost the same exact layout since you lived in the same complex. After sliding off your shoes at the entrance, you led the way to his room with Iwaizumi following closely behind you. 

“Did you go to a party tonight?” he asked, eyes trailing down your body that was clad in an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy socks. Iwaizumi took a seat on his bed and patted the spot next to him for you to join. 

Laughing at his puzzled expression, you nodded. “Yeah, but I went to my place to change and get ready for bed,” you explained. “Tried sleeping but I missed you too much and wanted to see your face.”

You climbed onto the mattress with him and wiggled around until you found a comfy spot. The comfy spot happened to be side-by-side with Iwazumi, your back against the wall and cold thigh pressed against his warm one. You rested your head on his shoulder and he lazily drew circles onto your knee with the pad of his thumb. 

Intimacy like this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you— That’s just how things were. He was warm and comfy and good at cuddling, and you liked that. 

It could maybe be considered just normal friendship things you two did with everyone if it weren’t for the fact that Iwaizumi wasn’t typically comfortable with physical touch from anyone other than you. And maybe if you also ignored that you weren’t too keen on the thought of him one day being this close to anyone else. If truth be told, you didn’t like the thought of that at all. 

With a small huff, you hooked your left arm with Iwaizumi’s right, hugging his bicep to you in an almost clingy manner. 

“You good?” he asked, lightly chuckling as he looked down at you gripping onto his side. “Or something troubling you?”

You hummed unsure how to answer. There wasn’t enough alcohol in your system for you to completely spill your guts with know remorse, though being tipsy did greatly increase your likelihood of being loose-lipped. “I’m just thinking about someone else being with you like this.” 

Iwaizumi stiffened, shoulders tensing ever so slightly before he quickly relaxed his muscles again. He prompted gruffly, throat so tight it came out as a murmur, “And?” 

“I don’t like it.” 

He let out a sharp chuckle. “I see.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a smile on his face and you continued on. “You’ve been studying a lot with Sasaki-san lately.”

“Hmm. Have I?” 

You nodded. “You have your biomechanics class with her, right?” 

“Yeah. I guess we studied for the exam together for a few nights.” 

There was a funny feeling in your stomach at the thought of him spending his nights studying with someone that then spiraled to you picturing them being compatible and falling in love and spending the rest of their lives together. You winced, trying to shake it off. You were one of his best friends; it’s not like you had the right to feel that way.

“She’s really pretty,” you said, hoping it would prompt him to talk more about her. Even if you had no right, you still wanted to know—

By now, the laughter Iwaizumi was struggling to hold in bubbled out of his mouth, cutting you off mid-thought. His shoulders bounced up and down and you reluctantly sat up from your position resting on top of him to give him a look of confusion.

“Why are you laughing at me?” you pouted. Your eyebrows were furrowed and the corners of your lips were quirked down, cheeks slightly puffed. 

He nudged your side gently with his elbow. You nudged him back, but moved away before he could retaliate and start a nudge war. “Because you sound jealous and it’s funny.”

“I didn’t say I was jealous.”

“I didn’t say you said that.” 

“I’m not jealous,” you corrected.

“Now that’s debatable.” 

Your cheeks flooded with heat, grabbing a pillow off the head of Iwaizumi’s bed to hide the embarrassed look on your face, seconds away from throwing it at him if he started to laugh any louder. You huffed. You were not jealous. There was no way. You just didn’t like imagining one of your best friends with another person doing coupley things that you only wanted him to do with you. But that definitely wasn’t jealousy. 

(Okay, fine. You were jealous. But you couldn’t admit that to Iwaizumi.)

“That’s just your lack of sleep talking,” you sulked, lying down on his bed with a pillow still over your face. “Go to sleep now.” 

“I was asleep. Until someone showed up at my window unannounced and woke me up.” 

“They sound annoying.” 

He barked out a laughter and you felt the weight on the bed shift. The compressed springs near your feet where Iwaizumi sat released its tension before you felt a dip beside you. You held your breath, the warmth from Iwaizumi’s body radiating onto yours.

While sleeping in the same bed together wasn’t as common as just cuddling, it wasn’t something that was exactly rare. There were times when you came over to watch movies or a television series with him until you both passed out on his bed. And other times when he was feeling stressed or you were feeling sad and neither of you wanted to sleep alone. You knew if you called, he would invite you in. And it was the same if he came to you. 

But that didn’t make your heart beat any less rapidly as you waited in anticipation for Iwaizumi to get under the sheets with you. No matter how many times you fell asleep together, that didn’t stop the rush of nerves and tense air of awkwardness from flooding the room. However, it took just one touch to break the ice and before you knew it, you were snuggling up next to him in complete contentment.

“They’re not annoying,” he said firmly, large hand resting on the curve of your hip. “Actually, I’m glad they showed up even though it was three in the morning and I was running on two hours of sleep from the previous day.” You winced at his words, the alcohol gone from your system by now and you realized the insensitivity of your actions. Still, your stomach fluttered when he said he was glad to see you. “Because I missed them too.” 

You blinked slowly. “You’re talking about me right?”

Through the moonlight from the window, you saw him roll his eyes with a grin. “Is there anyone else you think I’d let into my bed at this hour?” 

“Oikawa.” 

He considered it. “Well, maybe. But it wouldn’t so much be me letting him than him weaseling his way in.” 

You nodded solemnly, as if it made perfect sense. Because it did. “Fair enough. He’s the only other person I’d let into my bed like this too,” you admitted, earning a laugh out of the both of you. “Well, besides Oikawa then, there’s no one else you’d sleep with like this?”

“There hasn’t been since we started college. I doubt there would be anyone to change that. Nor would I want anyone to.” 

For the second time tonight, you felt heat rise to your cheeks and had the sudden urge to turn the other way and stare at the wall instead of Iwaizumi. But he held you tight by the waist so you couldn’t wiggle your way out of his grasp— Which did not, at all, help with the flaming face situation. 

He only wanted you? There was a euphoric feeling in your chest when you realized he felt that way, and you felt the same. 

“Someone’s bold tonight,” you managed to choke out, softly pressing your shaky fingers to the center of Iwaizumi’s chest. You felt the outlines of his toned pectorals beneath your palm and you had to remind yourself to keep on breathing.

“It’s from the lack of sleep. Sorry.” He didn’t sound apologetic. In fact, he seemed the opposite of apologetic when he brought you almost imperceptibly closer to him. If you weren’t so aware of the spatial distance (or lack thereof) between the two of you, there was no way you would have noticed. But you did. And you didn’t mind it. “I don’t have my usual filter.”

“Maybe I like you like this,” you said without missing a beat. Your initial reaction was to be embarrassed about the words that just left your mouth, but when you saw his growing smile, you felt a rush of assurance coursing through you. “I always like you, I suppose.”

“Like me?” he prompted, almost teasingly. “In what way?”

You gulped. Was this Iwaizumi being flirty? 

Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment you and occasionally play around— But if you thought your heart would ever be ready for him to actually flirt, you certainly thought wrong. You weren’t ready at all.

“L-Lots of ways,” you stammered out. “But in particular, the ‘I think you’re cute and I maybe want to date you’ way.” 

“Funny.” His voice was a low whisper that rasped in your ear. “I think I like you in that way too.”

“You think?”

“I know.” 

“Huh. Well, if we both like each other in that way…maybe we should…” you trailed off, feelings of timidness suddenly overcoming you. “You know…” 

“Date?” he supplied with a knowing grin. You nodded bashfully. “Tomorrow.” There was an air of promise and sincerity in his tone. “Let’s get some sleep and then when we wake up we can go on our first date.” 

Tranquility spread through your veins as you let out a happy sigh, your muscles growing lax at your calmed state. Although your heart was beating out of your chest at the prospect of actually dating Iwaizumi, his comforting embrace was enough to lull you into sleep. Your senses were flooded with him—his touch, his smell, the quiet sound of his steady breathing—and you realized there was no other place you’d rather be. 

“Are you sure you won’t be too tired from exams?” you said before sleep overtook the both of you. “And from me waking you up in the middle of the night? Which…sorry for that again, by the way.”

“Don’t apologize. It was worth it,” he mumbled, lips brushing against your forehead as your eyelids fluttered shut. “I’ll always be here when you need me. Even if it’s at three in the morning.” 

[couldibeanymorechaotic]

Another Percy Weasley Defense Post Because You Can Never Have Enough!! (+ some Perciver)

I hate how people say Percy abandoned his family for the Ministry of Magic.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING DID NOT!!

he left because of the toxic environment he was in.

he left because of the constant bullying from his siblings (except Charlie + Bill)

he left because he thought no one cared for him

he left because of the buildup of everything his family had done to him

I also hate how Percy was always portrayed as a snobbish prat who was pompous and only cared for his grades.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING WAS NOT!!

he was a protective older brother

- when ginny was petrified

- with all the shit Ron did

- when Fred died (he wouldn't leave his body)

HE WAS SOOO FUCKING PROETCTIVE!!

he was never snobbish and built up a wall to surround himself and his insecurities as he thought that was weak (considering ministry workers and such)

furthermore, I just wanted to let u know another fact

Percy felt that his family hated him/never wanted him because of constant teasing/pranks/insults/and badmouths. When the Weasleys "adopted" Harry, Harry was more of a Weasley then he ever was.

now tell me, wouldn't this make u feel fucking horrible?!

cuz it would to me

Also, I absolutely fucking hate how he was considered the "worst" weasley.

he was not the worst weasley.....want me to tell u who was

FRED (even though you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead) AND GEORGE WEASLEY

they always humiliated and picked on Percy

- with Pranks (that were usually obnoxious)

- with insults

- with what they called "harmful" teasing

And they just were bullies (and I hate bullies)

not saying that they're bad characters, I'm just saying that those pranks were usually immature and hurtful

The last thing I wanted to add was how he was the only one who had to apologize.

I was absolutely infuriated at this fact

like, how?!

Percy left due to no support/acknowledgement from his family.

like how would u feel if your parents said that the only reason they hired u was to spy on them.

u would feel devastated and angry, because u thought you've been working so hard and u deserved this job/promotion.

and then your parents just yelled at u, and your siblings took your parents side

I'm just saying there's two sides of a coin, and not one sides always right!

(I lied that, that was the last thing) Also, it's not even that big of a stretch that he believed the Ministry!!

why would he believe a 15/16 year old who constantly got his brother hurt and/or in trouble (protective alert)

and a crackpot old headmaster who couldn't prevent teenagers from getting hurt

the Ministry was a place that helped everyone, and Percy thought that it would help all this Voldemort nonsense.

sooo it wasn't that big of a stretch that he thought the Ministry was right over a 15/16 yr old and an old and kinda crazy headmaster?

also, this kinda had nothing to do with defending Percy but isn't Perciver a fucking awesome ship?!

two nerds (one in school/studies and one in sports) which equal ambition in their category (Oliver = sports; Percy = studies)

IDC what y'all think but Perciver is a perfect ship, so don't ship Percy with anyone else (I'm looking at u Audrey and Penelope)

ooh and since I have more time/space here are some Perciver fics on a03:

little messed up but i'm not anymore - happynotdignified - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished)

How to Seduce Your Healer by Oliver Wood - AnotherAuthor, vics_fics - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished)

Yes, I'm a Professional - AnotherAuthor, vics_fics - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (part 2 of the fic above) (finished)

Of Cute Suits and Awkward Bakery Workers - Chapter 1 - Mariella_Malfoy - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (unfinished but is still steadily updating) (it's also a Muggle AU)

The Grandfather Clock - floweringjudas (manipulate) - Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished) (has some background Jeddy)

we'll win together, you and i - sadie18 (orphan_account) - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (I lied about it all being Perciver) (this one is Percivercus) (which is Marcus/Percy/Oliver and it's fucking awesome) (finished)

It’s a Deal - Chapter 1 - CheezLord12 - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished) (portrays Marcus in a bad light so yeah)

Percy and the Weasleys and Oliver Wood - Chapter 1 - EvanescentLife - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished)

Still Standing - eleventy7 - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished)

A New Life - AnotherAuthor, vics_fics - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own] (finished) (THIS IS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE PERCIVER FIC ON a03)

and yeah there you go

and yeah, you're welcome

now say hail percyweasleyspuff

I'm joking (or am I?)

[chippedaxe]

Hate Is A Strong Word

◠◡◠◡｡･:*:･ﾟ★,◠◡◠◡

Title: Hate Is A Strong Word

Warning(s): cursing, maybe a bit of angst? (Not a lot), fluff, arguing, fighting, ect..

Pronouns: They/Them

Synopsis: you and Karl hate each other (or at least you both thought) until it was leaked to the smp that he had feelings for you.

Pairing: c!Karl X gn! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Note: this is my first sfw fic 😍😍

- if this gets enough attention then I might do a part 2 with some nsfw.

* This is unedited and I didn’t rlly proof read it so if this story actually makes no sense at all than I’m rlly sorry 😭

◠◡◠◡｡･:*:･ﾟ★,◠◡◠◡

Your eyes narrowed and you furrowed your eyebrows as you noticed Karl in the distance, he looked as if he was moving towards you so you were wondering what business he was up to.

“Karl! What’re you doing?” You called out to him but he snubbed you and ignored your question “Fine, ignore me then asshole!” You scoffed and returned to what you were doing, you try to act nice and he doesn’t play along!

You went back to crafting, putting the sticks together and cursing yourself once you realized you didn’t have all the correct materials. You sighed and held onto your nose bridge in annoyance “I can’t believe I forgot to get the red stone!” You grumbled.

This meant more work for you today and you were already tired of it, you sat down and tried to think of a way to get out of doing more hard labor for the day. You got an idea and stood up, there’s got to be someone on the server with red stone right?

You exited your humble house and approached the first person you saw outside which happened to be Purpled “hey! I’m sure that you’ve probably got some on you so I was wondering if I could borrow some red stone? Or just take it from you..” you asked politely “oh I Uh- I actually ran out, I used the last of it on this build right here!” He stood back and presented the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen.

You nodded “oh alright then- thanks anyways” you passed him and walked down the trail, perhaps Eret had stolen some off of someone and could let you borrow a few? You walked up to him and smiled “greetings! Do you have any spare red stone that I could please use?” You bowed down slightly.

“Oh no, I’m afraid that I don’t have any! I know who does have a whole supply of red stone though!” Eret’s voice sounded condescending and almost patronizing “oh really? That’s great! Who is it?” You smiled excitedly “It’s Karl!” Eret replied.

Your face fell and you frowned, your happiness was wiped from your face and you gave Eret a deadpan look “why does it have to be him?” You groaned “oh I’m sure someone else will have some, you’ll just have to check around..” Eret then scattered away.

You knew that Eret is normally right, she won’t let anyone prove them wrong, so you knew that Karl was probably your best bet at retrieving some red stone. You wiped your face and made your way over to Karl’s whereabouts.

You knocked on the door of his house and waited for him to open the door, you watched as Karl peeked through the curtain and then quickly ran away to pretend that no one was home. You banged on his door angrily “Karl, open up! I just need some red stone!” You yelled out.

“No ones home!” He screamed back at you, you sighed and lowered your head “what a fucking idiot..” you thought out loud, Karl gasped and opened the door “that’s quite rude, don’t you think??” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Oh great- you’re home, can I have that red stone now??” You gave a fake smile “what makes you think I’m gonna give it up so willingly?” Karl rose an eyebrow. What a pretentious fuck.

“Because if you hand it over now then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day!” You had hoped that your plan would work “who says that I want to be left alone? Maybe I want to pester you all day!” Karl teased “oh come on! I just need the red stone, give it up!” You held your hands up in defense “oh nuh-uh! That belongs to me!” He blocked the doorway.

You pushed him gently and tried to steal his red stone but he tackled you to the floor, you kicked him off you and then stood back up to dust yourself off “listen here- if you do something for me than I’ll happily give it to you” Karl offered.

“Fine, asshat, what is it?” You had already expected him to send you doing something horrible or incredibly dangerous “I need you to just give this to Quackity, he said he needed it” Karl handed you a bag full of just dirt “he needs a bag of dirt? This seems like the most useless task ever!” You exclaimed.

“It’s not useless if you’re getting something out of it, come back here when you’re done” he shut the door on you and left you to go on your quest. You knew it’d be an easy task, so why did Karl send you to do it? Did he not think you could do it? Did he underestimate you?

You walked back to your house and equipped yourself with some leather boots, they should help your feet with the long walk. You got back up and got back onto the trail, you flung the bag over your shoulder and coughed as some of the dirt came out.

You arrived in Las Nevada’s pretty fast to be honest! Your eyes glanced over the beautiful sight, Las Nevadas is a wonderful place! If you weren’t a traveler than you’d like to settle somewhere like this.

“Quackity!” You came up to the building and called out for him, yelping and jumping back when a little green man appeared behind you “AH!” You screamed and dropped the bag “Oh! You have my dirt! Thank you, Mx. Jacobs!” He ducked down “what?! What did you call me??” You bent down.

He popped back out of the dirt “Mx. Jacobs, Karl Jacob’s partner!” He smiled cheerfully “I’m not dating Karl! And my name is Y/n!” You spat out “oh really, you’re not?? But I heard Karl talking about how much he loves you! I must’ve misunderstood, goodbye Y/n (not the partner of Karl Jacobs)!” He sunk back down but you pulled him back up.

“Hey- no! I wanna talk!” You desperately spoke “oh sure! I have time to kill anyways!” He stuck his tongue out “who are you?” You asked curiously “I’m Charlie slimecicle! You’re Y/n the traveler, Karl’s partner!” Charlie stated incorrectly.

“Hey- no. I hate Karl” you crossed your arms “really?? I was getting the impression that you liked him from the way that you stare at him lovingly from afar” Charlie shrugged “WHAT- HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT? I DONT DO THAT!!” You quickly tried to defend yourself.

“Don’t defend yourself, I already said that Karl likes you too!” Charlie was a chill guy “then why does he purposefully irritate me so much?!” You complained “I dunno! I’m gonna go with my bag of dirt now..” Charlie disappeared and this time you weren’t able to catch him.

You continued to sit there for a while, just thinking to yourself about things ‘does Karl really like me?’ You thought. You shook the feeling off “hold on- I don’t even like him! Charlie was talking non-sense!” The words coming out of your mouth did not match the way you were feeling.

Your heart was in your mouth, your chest was sore and your lungs were gasping for air as your hair was beating faster and faster “oh god- shit.. maybe I do like him! I mean.. those times that we don’t fight are really nice” you were conflicted. You decided that it’d be better to just confront your problems so you stood up and went back home.

You knocked on the door of Karl Macon’s house, he answered immediately and snickered “great, you made it back, thought you might die out there” he teased you. You rolled your eyes “cut the shit, Slime boy told me all about you” you accused “oh yeah? Told you what?” Karl backed up a bit “he told me that you had a little crush?” You leaned against the doorframe.

“Maybe I do, what about it?” Karl looked away and lowered his head a bit “well maybe I like you too. I don’t know, I still find you annoying and irritating!” You confessed “I wouldn’t like it any other way. Would you consider dating me?” Karl reached out and grabbed your hand gently “oh fuck-“ you cursed.

“If you’d of asked me any other day than my answer would be so clear! If you’d asked me yesterday than I’d say no but- maybe I like talking to you and arguing with you a little too much to just be your enemy.” You dropped your head and started to blush.

This was a very embarrassing situation for you and you didn’t know what to do “so you’re not sure if you like me or not?” Karl asked “correct. I mean- I’d stare at you from far away and blush but that doesn’t necessary mean that I like you, right?” You hesitated.

“Are you afraid that you might like me?” Karl walked closer towards you “maybe a bit. We’ve been enemies for so long, I’m afraid of what will happen between us if we stop” you answered “I’m sure we’ll still find things to fight about when we’re together” Karl smiled “well- than yes! I’ll go on one date with you” Karl squealed with joy.

“Yes! You’re making me the happiest man alive!” He hugged you “yeah, yeah, am I gonna get that red stone anytime soon?” You pestered him “sure thing! Can I pick you up later tonight?” Karl asked you “8’o clock and no time later than that” you replied before walking off with his red stone.

“Hey wait!- can I kiss you? Just this once?” Karl had started to annoy you with the way he was trying to explain why it’d be better to kiss him now instead of on your first date so you decided to shut him up. You grabbed him by the collar and pressed your lips against his.

This relationship of yours was gonna be a real hassle but you knew you’d make it out alive (not sure about Karl tho)

[arsenic-addiction]

My long ass project is finished! I heard this basic quote from the song “Red Heart Black” by Dragonette...and was like yes, I HAVE to make this. 

I wanted to explore more of Kristoph’s background because I can’t believe he’s been evil all his life. This was the first time I have ever drawn him, but I think he came out pretty well! The first one with the more traditional Kristoph imagery was actually the most difficult. I had figured out the other ones right away but tried to do something a bit different with the “current” Kristoph. 

More tidbits of details if you want to read them:

The cap and gown were so hard to draw that he almost didn’t graduate! ;) I made an educated guess about what year he graduated based on the official ages. So, 2012 it was! A little nod to the investigations game: his pin is the same one Sebastion wears on his school jacket.

Again, I tried to make an accurate assumption with when he would have established his office. I had to consider that he committed his crimes in 2019, and still give a decent time to establish his “coolest defense in the West” reputation. With his law office outfit, I figured while he was still younger, he would have had a bit of stylish flair like Klavier is known for. Hence the bolder tie he’s wearing. Plus, those Gavin brothers love their purples!

With the first one (the one I finished last ironically) I clocked it and spent 14+ hours on it. That does include making all the character cards for the background. I will be posting them soon but don’t really feel like doing an art dump at the moment. Maybe it will give time to highlight the main piece. Not like anyone is seriously waiting with breath. 

Regardless I hope someone out there enjoys them! 

[arrantsnowdrop]

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien​

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match. 

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

[shera-dnd]

IT'S HERE! Took me a little longer than planned, but hey it's here.

A little AU where our dear Ruby Rose is raised by Raven Branwen and learns all the bad stuff that comes with that, but don't worry she gets to have a little bonding session with her sister and they figure things out

(Featuring Trans Summer Rose and some STR crossed lovers)

Also if you'd like to have your own fic idea written by me or simply want to help support me consider donating to my kofi to help me reach this month's goal

Anyways here's the fic, enjoy the read.

“How much further, pal?” Yang asked as she rode her bike through the woods of Anima.

“This should just about do it,” the man sitting behind her answered. His name was Shay - a sleazy idiot, but a useful idiot. An idiot who could show her the way to her mom, and the rest of her family.

She slowed to a stop and got off the bike, leaning back against it. 

“I’ll go ahead and check if the coast is clear,” he added, walking off into the woods.

Well that was a trap if she had ever seen one before, but she’d deal with it. 

If they were all on Shay’s level, then she’d be alright.

When she heard the first shot ring out she had plenty of time to raise her prosthetic arm and block it. 

When she found herself surrounded, she did little more than ask for directions. 

And when the bandits leaped into action she bested them handily.

It was simple, almost effortless work, but it still had her hand trembling. 

She had to hold it down with her prosthetic to try to calm it down. No matter how much she thought she was over it, it kept dragging her back.

Just deep breaths. 

In and out. 

Focus on the present. 

Just focus on–

Reflex took over faster than thought as Yang side-stepped a katana swing from thin air.

Its wielder wasn’t far behind it, forming from a cloud of petals. It was a girl with red eyes and black hair, wearing a tattered white cloak over red and black armor.

Yang parried swing after swing of the girl’s katana against the sides of Ember Celica. The girl went for a thrusting lunge straight for her neck, Yang barely catching it with her prosthetic.

“Wow,” the girl exclaimed, with wide eyed wonder, “I’ve never seen a prosthetic like that! Is it atlesian? The design looks atlesian!”

Yang was understandably baffled by this. 

So she shoved her assailant away, and cocked the cannons on Ember Celica, shooting a few explosive shells her way. 

The girl harmlessly swatted them away with her sword, seeming undeterred in her quest to learn all about Yang’s cool tech stuff.

“Oh my gosh,” she continued, even as she lunged forward for another attack, “I love the arm cannons! Did you build them yourself? Wait! Does that mean you’re a huntress? I’venever met a huntress before!”

And yet she definitely fought like a huntress. 

Yang would be impressed by the other girl’s skill if she wasn’t also deeply annoyed that she didn’t seem to be taking this seriously in the slightest.

“Look, pal, I’m not here to chit chat about weapons,” Yang argued, throwing the girl a right hook that nearly clocked her in the jaw if she hadn’t burst into petals once again.

Once the girl took form again, she connected the pommel of her sword with the back of her scabbard, some unseen mechanism beginning to unfold inside it, revealing an extra blade. By the time it had finished its transformation, the simple sword and scabbard had unfolded into a double ended naginata.

Damn, this girl really had a thing for machinery.

“I know,” the girl nodded, “you’re here for my clan, and I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

With those words she leaped for her again. 

She twirled around Yang, her weapon spinning with her into a deadly dance of blades, forcing her out of Yang’s reach.

She couldn’t get close enough to land with Ember Celica, every swing of the blades forcing her on the defensive.

She had to play it safe, if she could bait her out, she could get in close enough…

“I don’t care about you or your stupid tribe,” Yang argued as she continued to parry blow after blow, “I’m here for Raven!”

And there it was, anger, killing intent, followed by a furious lunge for Yang’s neck. 

That’s all she needed.

With a shot from Ember Celica she launched herself into range, her fist flying for the girl’s face.

“I won’t let you hurt my mom!” The girl exclaimed and Yang froze, her fist hanging there between them.

Mom?

She was Raven’s daughter?

Could she really be…?

“Ruby?” She muttered.

The girl blinked in confusion, looking up into Yang’s own red eyes, “how do you know my name?”

~~~

She had a sister. 

Ruby Branwen had a sister!

A cool sister, with a bike, and a robot arm!

Sure, she had several questions, like why did Raven never tell her about her? 

Why did she never visit in 17 years? 

Or what she was doing here now? 

But who cared? Her family was finally together for the first time!

So Ruby hopped and skipped with excitement as she entered her clan’s camp, her new sister following behind, surrounded by Shay and his friends. 

Vernal’s familiar figure peered out from Raven’s tent, and she raised a single eyebrow at the sight of their little group.

“Hey, Vee, can you tell mom we’ve got a guest?” Ruby greeted.

Vernal glared at her as she usually did then extended that glare to the new arrival, before answering, “you can tell her yourself.”

With that, Raven herself stepped out from her tent calling, “Ruby, what is the meaning of– oh.”

“Hey, mom,” Yang greeted halfheartedly

“Yang,” was all Raven said at first, her tone somber, though it was quickly replaced with her usual, more confident voice, “so after all this time you’ve finally decided to visit.”

Yang’s hand began to shake again like it had before Ruby attacked. 

She didn’t know why, but some forgotten sisterly instinct drove her to hold her hand.

“Mom, don’t be mean,” Ruby complained, “Yang came back to the clan. Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

Yang yanked her hand free, “I told you, Ruby, I’m not here for the clan.”

“Well, why else would you come all the way here?” She asked, trying not to sound hurt.

Her mother and sister glared at each other for a moment, before Raven finally said, “maybe we should talk inside. Come, I’ll make you tea.”

Oh no. 

Ruby knew exactly what that meant. 

The conversation was about to get really serious, and she didn’t want the rest of the clan watching. Raven only ever did that to talk about Ruby’s other mother, the maiden’s powers, and the two immortals.

She wondered what it would be this time.

Raven didn’t speak at first as she made them tea, only responding when Ruby tried to help her. 

Yang too didn’t speak a word, settling for glaring at their mother the entire time. 

Which then left Ruby to awkwardly sit between the two of them, waiting for tea to be served. Not how she expected this family reunion to go.

“So,” Raven began as she sat down, kettle in hand, and poured the three of them their drinks, “have you come seeking answers, or simply a shortcut to your uncle?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’ll give me neither?” Yang asked back.

“Oh I will. I’m not planning on keeping you here any longer than you wish to be kept,” she answered, “what I’m saying is that maybe you would like to hear a new perspective before throwing yourself back into Ozpin’s pointless war.”

Ozpin? 

The evil wizard? 

Was Yang working for him?

“I don’t care about Ozpin,” Yang bit back, “I’m here for my family. My real family. Not the woman who abandoned me when I was still a baby.”

“You did what!?” Ruby blurted out without thinking.

Raven raised a hand, silently asking Ruby to calm herself.

“If I had it my way, our entire family would have come with me and joined the Branwen’s, but Tai and Summer just wouldn’t listen to me,” she explained, frustration in her voice, “in the end it felt like the safest bet to leave you in their care.”

“Oh, it was a safe bet? So why did you take Ruby?” Yang asked, taking the question straight from Ruby’s mouth.

“I didn’t take her… or at least I didn’t know I was taking her,” Raven continued, “I had been back in the clan for weeks before I realized I was pregnant with Summer’s child. I couldn’t just take her back.”

Yang opened her mouth to shoot another barb back at Raven, but Ruby cut her short. “Wait! You… You said mom died to the evil witch. You never said anything about abandoning her.”

“Ruby,” she called, her voice more tender now, as she reached for her daughter’s hand, “I tried to save her. I would have brought her to the camp, and I would have taken care of her just like I did you.”

“So that’s it, huh?” Yang spat, “Summer died because she didn’t listen to you. I lost my mom and my sister because we just didn’t listen.”

“If they weren’t so set on following Ozpin’s orders–”

“Enough with Ozpin!” Yang shouted, “Ozpin didn’t leave her to die! You did! You abandoned us, and you can’t just act like it was all our fault! Mom and dad loved you, and you betrayed them!”

“You don’t know what I do! If you actually knew what you’re up against, you would have begged to stay with the clan!”

“Not everyone is as much of a coward as–”

“Enough!” Ruby yelled.

There was a moment of silence in the tent as they both turned to look at her, neither of them having expected the outburst.

“ Please , enough,” she asked again, more quietly, “we’re a family. I finally got to meet my sister I didn’t even know I had, can we please not spend this entire time fighting?”

Their animosity didn’t drop in the slightest, but at the very least they seemed ashamed enough to try to hide most of it. 

Unfortunately this left them with nothing but an awkward silence in their tent. Simmering anger brought just below the boiling point.

Raven was the first to break that silence, “I’ll open you a portal tomorrow,” Yang rose to argue, but Raven raised her hand once again, “Qrow and your friends won’t die after just one day. In the meantime, try to enjoy some time with your sister. Gods know when you’ll see each other again…”

Oh. Right. This might be her only chance to get to know Yang. Especially if what her mom said was true about what happens to the wizard’s followers.

She could see that Yang wanted to argue and leave immediately, but Ruby couldn’t afford to have their meeting be so short. 

So she shot Yang her biggest puppy dog eyes, silently pleading for her to stay a little longer.

Yang looked back at her, trying to look stern, but quickly caved in. “Fine. But not a day longer.”

~~~

Yang stomped her way into Ruby’s tent, grumbling the entire time.

“Who does she think she is, huh? She keeps acting like she knows more than everyone else, and like nothing is her fault,” she continued as she dropped unceremoniously onto one of Ruby’s beanbags, “she’s just a coward trying to pretend she’s strong.”

Ruby sighed and offered her an awkward smile as she followed her into the tent. 

Yang knew she wanted to defend Raven, even after today’s big reveal it’s not like she just expected her sister to turn against the woman who raised her for 17 years.

“Hey, forget about mom, okay?” Ruby tried her best, sitting down on her bed, “she can be really stubborn sometimes, but you shouldn’t let that ruin your day. I mean we finally got to meet, right?”

Yang sighed, sinking further into the bean bag, “I guess you’re right. It’s nice finally knowing you, Ruby.”

“Yeah, it’s nice knowing you too,” she replied, awkwardly scratching the back of her head, “though I still have no idea how you knew about me.”

“Uncle Qrow told me,” she answered simply, “he kept it a secret for most of my life because he was worried I would throw my life away trying to find you, but after everything that happened at Beacon, I guess he figured I deserved to know.”

“Wait. Uncle Qrow?” Ruby sounded so confused, “mom always said he was a useless drunk and a pervert.”

“He is,” there was no defending him there, “but that doesn’t mean he can’t be a caring uncle when he needs to be. He even taught me how to fight. I almost made myself a scythe because of him.”

Ruby’s little red eyes began to glow at the mention of weapons, “aww, but scythes are so cool. I mean, not to say your bracelets aren’t cool. They’re awesome, but scythes are still scythes.”

“Does that thing of yours also turn into scythe by any chance?” Yang replied playfully.

Ruby gasped in fake shock, “Yang! Black Rose is part of the family! Don’t just call her a thing, like that. She 's my baby.”

Yang giggled at that, “sorry, is your baby also a scythe?”

“Maybe,” she answered, “just don’t tell mom. I don’t think she’d like me taking after uncle Qrow.”

“Your secret is safe with me, sis,” Yang replied casually, earning the biggest smile from Ruby, “what got you smiling?”

Ruby giggled, “I’m just so happy to have a sister now.”

“Yeah, I’m happy too.”

Once again there was silence, but this time it was a comfortable, safe silence. Both of them just enjoying each other’s presence after being denied that for so many years.

“Hey, Yang,” Ruby called, “can you keep another secret for me?”

“Uh, sure.”

Ruby smiled at her, before reaching for her own eyes. One hand held her eyelids open while the other slid something free. 

Contact lenses. The red of her eyes were contact lenses, and under them were a pair of silver eyes.

“You have Summer’s eyes,” Yang spoke, her voice quiet as she saw so much of her mother in her little sister.

“Mom told me the same thing,” Ruby replied, more than a little embarrassed, “but don’t tell anyone, okay? Mom said if anyone finds out I have silver eyes, they’ll try to take them from me.”

“What!? Why!?”

“She said there’s a legend out there that silver eyed warriors have the power to destroy the grimm,” she explained, “so the witch hunted them to near extinction. She said that’s why mom…”

“Right,” was that it? 

Summer had been killed just because of her eyes? 

That didn’t make sense, they were just a pretty color, why would that make them special? 

Though there was a more pressing question in her mind, “you keep mentioning this witch? Who is that?”

“Uh that’s a bit of a long story,” Ruby answered, “though I guess mom would want you to know about it anyways.”

Long didn’t quite cover it. 

Insane might actually be more appropriate. 

Ozpin and this Salem engaged in a never ending war for thousands of years. Magical powers. Fairy tales. All of this was somehow real. 

It couldn’t be.

“You don’t actually believe all that magic stuff, right?” Yang asked, concerned for how much Raven must have brainwashed her.

“I mean, I have seen it,” Ruby shrugged, “mom can turn into a bird, and I’ve seen her do a bunch of weird stuff that her semblance can’t do.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Magic isn’t–”

“Hey, Ruby,” that smug girl from earlier called as she burst into the tent, “there’s an atlesian ship coming our way and Raven wants you to come check on it with her,” she gave Yang a side eye and added, “bring blondie too.”

Yang wanted to show her what happened to people who called her blondie, but it wouldn’t look good to punch someone in front of her little sister.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to get involved in whatever you have planned.”

~~~

“Doesn’t look like a military ship,” Ruby commented as she peered through her spyglass.

The ship in question was a small cargo ship, the kind designed for fast deliveries of light cargo. Meaning it probably had a human pilot and very little loot to be grabbed. 

Definitely not worth the hassle of taking it down.

“Good,” Raven nodded, “keep an eye on it, we don’t want it finding the camp by accident.”

Behind her Yang thumped her foot impatiently.

“Care to explain why you wanted me here?”

“Consider this a little family bonding session,” Raven answered, “it’s like bird watching, but with giant airships.”

“Right,” she replied, unimpressed.

In that time, Ruby kept vigil over the ship as it flew through the floating islands of gravity dust, and it was then that she saw quite the unwelcome sight.

“Grimm! The ship is under attack by grimm!”

“Crap, let me see!” Yang called, taking the spyglass.

“A Lancer swarm, and a Queen,” Ruby clarified to her mother, “should we interfere?”

“Absolutely not,” Raven’s answer was quick and final, “no need to risk ourselves. Best case scenario we can loot what is left of the ship.”

Yang shoved the spyglass back into Ruby’s hands and stomped up to her mother, “seriously!? Those people could die and all you’re thinking about is how to profit from it?”

“Not profit. Survive!” Raven corrected, “I’m not risking any lives fighting grimm, and if they crash at the very least we can salvage something to help the clan.”

“You’re infuriating!” Yang shouted, “can you care about another person for once in your life!?”

“Uh, guys?” Ruby called, “the ship is coming our way!”

Yang looked up, and she did not need any help to see the ship crashing down towards them, smoke following behind. Though what she did not expect to see was a Schnee gravity glyph trying to keep that ship afloat.

“Weiss!?” She called in a panic.

“The Schnee heiress?” Raven asked.

“And my team mate!” Yang yelled back, “we have to save her!”

“I told you, that’s too risky,” Raven countered.

“I’m not letting my friend die just because you can’t be bothered to–”

And Ruby was gone.

She took to the skies in a burst of petals, landing on the front of the ship as it fell.

She unfurled black rose into her full form as the lancers swarmed around her; a large double-blade scythe, made for slicing grimm.

With a burst of speed, she made short work of them.

One more burst of petals, and she was inside the ship.

A white haired girl stood tall as she continued to conjure those weird glyphs to slow their fall. As much as Ruby would love to chat about her cool semblance and how it worked, they were in a bit of a hurry.

“Hey!” She called, and the girl turned to face her with a confused look, “I can explain later, but Yang sent me. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girl looked like she was gonna question her, but the violent shaking of the airship  changed her mind.

“Fine,” she answered, moving to help up the unconscious pilot, “just help me get him up.”

Okay, moving three people with her semblance was gonna be difficult, but she wasn’t about to argue in favor of leaving someone to die.

They moved quickly, carrying the man with them as best as they could. 

Then came another violent shake, and this time they knew why. 

More Lancers came flying by, but not for them. They carelessly hit the ship as they made their way for land, and straight for Ruby’s family.

“Oh no, no, no!” Ruby exclaimed. She wouldn’t be fast enough. There were so many and she couldn't save both these people and her family.

Unless… 

“I’m so sorry for this,” was all she said before taking the both of them into a petal burst. 

They were draining her aura too fast. She wouldn’t be able to get them to shore fast enough.

But she didn’t have to.

 She just needed to get them low enough that they wouldn’t get hurt.

She dropped them both into the waters of the lake below, shouting “I’ll be back!” Before flying off again to help her family.

Black Rose’s scythe mode cut the Lancers to pieces as she came flying down towards her family, but there were so many, their barbed spikes raining over Yang and Raven.

No. 

No! 

She couldn’t let this happen. 

She already lost one mom. She couldn’t lose another one. 

She couldn’t lose the sister she just gained. 

She wouldn’t let them die!

There was a sharp pain behind her eyes, then a blinding light. 

Silver poured from red and engulfed the lake. A flash bright enough to be seen all the way from the furthest edge of the lake.

Then there was dark, and Ruby plummeted into the waters.

~~~

Ruby had remained unconscious for two days. 

Yang had insisted on staying at camp until she recovered, much to Weiss’s pain, though she of all people understood worrying so much over a sister.

By the time she had woken up though, Yang had not been allowed in her tent. 

Instead only Raven could enter, a decision Ruby did not seem to agree with.

Their shouting match went far into the night, and it surprised Yang just how much energy her sister seemed to have after all this. It seemed righteous fury ran in the family.

Though the sound was muffled, it was easy to piece together what they were shouting about. Especially when the name Summer came up so many times.

Then came a loud stomping as Raven left the tent. 

She caught Yang and Weiss waiting outside, and rightfully assumed that they knew exactly what was going on.

“You two better take good care of her,” Raven said, “I won’t have her meet the same fate as her mother.”

Weiss scoffed, that little expression of displeasure doing wonders for Yang’s mood. 

It was good having her to back her up again.

“Don’t worry, mom,” Yang answered, “Ruby actually has her family to back her up.”

Raven did not answer the barb, just sighing heavily and walking off to her own tent.

She hadn’t been out of sight for too long when Ruby stepped out, Black Rose strapped to her belt, and a bag on her back, “so - uh - do you have room for one more on that bike of yours?”

Yang smiled, “always got room for my little sister.”

[strawwritesfic]

Draco Malfoy x Female!Slytherin!Reader: Save [Part 3 of ?]

Summary: Did Draco ride to your rescue, or have you found yourself in a worse place than ever?

Rating/Warnings/Tag: T (fantastic racism; bullying; abusive teacher; set during Order of the Pheonix; pure-blood!reader; one-sided!reader/Draco; Pansy/Draco; Pansy/Draco/reader)

Challenge: “115 Words” by BonitaWolfSpirit on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @drayslove

Part 1: Camera Part 2: Forgiven

Save

Pansy Parkinson just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could she? It was not enough for her to make you miserable in your own common room year after year. It was not enough for her to smash your alarm clock while you slept, nor to go through your trunk during your resulting detention with McGonagall for tardiness. It was not enough for Pansy to know you were a no-good witch either. No, everyone needed to know that, including the one instructor that gave you decent grades. And for what? Daring to know Draco before she did? She could have him as far as you were concerned, but what was done was already done.

You stood outside of Professor Umbridge’s office door with ice running through your veins. The thought of fleeing into the Forbidden Forest did occur to you. Nothing in there, be it death or centaurs, could be worse than whatever awaited you in the room beyond. No one would miss you after you were gone, either—not your parents, not the teachers, not even Draco. Hell, Colin would probably consider your disappearance a relief.

Before you could act on your decision to run off, however, the heavy wooden door pulled open. The girl doing the pulling was none other than Pansy herself, spotting an uglier-than-usual leer that only grew when a sugary-sweet voice called out from behind her:

“Ah, Miss [L Name]. You’re here. Very good. Please enter.”

A braver soul than yours might still have tried to escape. You instead crossed the threshold into the violently pink room. Pansy shut the door behind you with a smart snap, and not even a million technicolored kitten plates could have soothed you then.

Pansy was not the only one in the room with you and your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. One of your other roommates, Millicent Bulstrode, stood at attention beside the desk, as did another, older girl you knew was in Slytherin with you, but whose name you couldn’t place. All three of them wore the badge that marked them as members of the Inquisitorial Squad. Your anxiety mounted.

“I presume that you know why I have called you here this evening?” Professor Umbridge asked, in the same sweet, singsong voice she used on most students.

So focused had you been on being trapped with two of your regular tormentors that you’d nearly forgotten the professor was there. You snapped your focus back on her, then found yourself unable to answer. Though your mouth opened, no sound came out. Why were you there? This could hardly be a detention since there was an audience.

The other girls giggled into the extended silence.

“Miss [L Name]? I am waiting.”

“No, ma'am,” you managed to say.

This only caused Professor Umbridge to blink. “No?”

“No, ma'am. I don’t know why I’m here. You told me to come to your office at this time as I was leaving class this afternoon. Did I do something to disrupt your lesson?”

Your father’s careful instructions did you some good here, at least. The bland, polite way you spoke threw Professor Umbridge off—that, and the fact that you didn’t disrupt her lesson. How could you? You never spoke in her lessons, or anyone else’s for that matter.

“No, my dear. Not my lessons,” she said.

“Have my grades in your classes slipped?”

“Of course not! They are Ministry approved, and a girl of your lineage could hardly be expected to fail at the level I am being forced to teach at this year.”

“Then I’m sorry, but I’ve really no idea why I’m here.” You glanced at Pansy. “Or why she is.”

Having come at last to the subject she wanted you to (or thereabouts), Professor Umbridge slumped in relief. “Miss Parkinson is here because she has brought to me some very alarming information about you. You are here because I wanted to give you the chance to dispute it.”

Pansy grinned. She brushed her elbow against Millicent’s side, and the two girls caught each other’s eye. You saw nothing funny at all about the situation, but then, you’d seen nothing funny about the Alarm Clock Incident either, nor the Horn-Growing hex that had landed you in the hospital wing for three days, nor the bit with the Canary Creams they’d filched from the Weasley twins. It was highly unlikely you were going to find anything Pansy thought funny amusing yourself.

“Well?” Professor Umbridge prompted you.

Again, you realized you’d placed your attention elsewhere. “Well, what?”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That depends,” you said.

“What does it depend on?”

“What it is that Pansy is claiming that I did.”

Finally, Professor Umbridge fixed her bulging eyes on someone else. “Miss Parkinson?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge?” said Pansy.

“Didn’t you tell me that Miss [L Name] knew what she was doing?”

“Oh, she does. Millie and I have proof.”

“Then hand it over, dear. Quickly! Quickly! I can’t have her father thinking that I’m pulling his child into my office over someone making a mountain out of a Niffler mound!”

Unseen by the rest of those in the room, your knees trembled under your weight. That was right. Your father worked with the Minister of Magic. He already knew that Professor Umbridge wanted to see you. Just what sort of Howler awaited you when you got back to your common room (he would never send it with breakfast; he wouldn’t like a scene like Molly Weasley’s three years back) you hated to think. A quick look at the window showed it was unmanned. Perhaps you could throw yourself through it before things got any worse.

Too late. Professor Umbridge stood up from her chair in a dizzy. “Oh! Oh my!"

Whatever she saw clearly upset her greatly, because she looked in danger of swooning right into one of her shelves of plates. Only Millicent’s quick action of helping her around the desk prevented the demise of many glass kittens.

"I’m sorry to have to be the one to show you this, Professor,” Pansy said, patting Professor Umbridge’s fat little fingers as they grasped at the desk corner. “I know how much you like Mr. [L Name].”

Professor Umbridge pressed her free, trembling hand to her heart. The older girl carefully guided her back to her chair. Millicent rubbed the professor’s back, wearing an expression more appropriate for attending a funeral.

All the while, Pansy stood there smirking at you. You snarled as your hand wrapped around the wand in your robe pocket. It wasn’t likely that you’d be able to do her any real harm, but the point was moot, for Professor Umbridge recovered before you could think of any appropriate curses to fling at Pansy’s head.

“Miss [L Name]! How dare you!”

Gone was her familiar syrupy tone. She waved a square of developed film in the air, then imperiously beckoned you to approach her. You did so with your cheeks burning. All of a sudden, leaving that photo in Draco’s possession seemed like an incredibly stupid idea. It had been nearly a week since your big blowout in the corridor, which had been enough time to give you hope that he’d found your crying pathetic enough to drop the entire issue. Apparently he’d only wanted to lull you into a false sense of security.

“Professor,” you said, “I can explain.”

“Oh, you can, can you?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry I skipped out on my detention with Professor Hagrid, but he shouldn’t have given me one to begin with just for telling Potter off for lying about seeing those Thestrals! Anyway, I just wanted to see Draco fly. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“As though I care whether or not you listen to that half-breed. He will be dealt with accordingly. What I want to know is why you are cavorting with a known supporter of Harry Potter!”

“What are you—”

She slapped the photo onto her desk. It was not the one of Draco. Of course. In all your anger over Pansy going through your trunk, you hadn’t thought to see if she’d stolen any of the other pictures stashed in there. This one featured Colin himself as he prodded a cauldron of developing solution with his wand. Every single drop of blood in your face drained away.

“When Miss Parkinson came to me with this information, I admit that I was reluctant to believe her.” Professor Umbridge stood, walked to her window, and began to pace back and forth. “I even had Cornelius speak to your father about the matter. He could not believe the claim either. A girl like you ought not to be spending her time with a boy like that!”

“He was only helping me with a project—”

“What help could you possibly receive from a muggle-born? If there is something you are struggling with, I’m sure one of your housemates could help. Why, Miss Parkinson would be delighted to!”

“Of course, Professor,” Pansy said piously.

“Mr. Creevey is friendly with Potter. Potter is an enemy not only of myself, but of the Minister of Magic, and therefore the entire Wizarding World! Thus, Mr. Creevey is also working to undermine us. Tell me, Miss [L Name], what are you really doing with him? Do you believe Mr. Potter when he says there are dark wizards out to get him?”

“No!” While you were aware Potter wasn’t as mad as most believed, this was not the company to admit that in front of, nor to tell just what you’d been doing with Colin in secret all year. In desperation, you went on, “What we’re doing isn’t even breaking Educational Decree Number Twenty-four!”

Professor Umbridge turned to face you with her hands clasped behind her back. “Miss Parkinson has just produced evidence indicating that you are aiding and abetting members of Potter’s renegade group. Your adherence to any Educational Decree is the least of my worries. You will tell me where they are meeting and exactly what they are up to. Professor Dumbledore may not give me the authority to expel you should you not, but I assure you that to refuse to give me answers will cause things to go very poorly for you.”

You gaped at her.

“Things will also go very poorly for your family. After all, an apple does not fall far from the tree. You lying for Potter makes it very possible your father is lying for Professor Dumbledore. Think very carefully over how your behavior might affect his position in the Ministry from here on out.”

What were you supposed to say? You’d never considered how your poor choices might reflect upon your mum and dad! But Colin had never told you about what he did with Potter. It mattered so little to you that you’d never thought to ask. It wasn’t as though he trusted you enough to offer you an invitation. In fact, the existence of such a group had been unknown to you until Draco brought it up the other night.

She sighed and shook her head. “I had hoped you would take this opportunity to redeem yourself. You might be a pure-blood, but I will get what I want. Miss Parkinson, Miss Bulstrode, please restrain Miss [L Name].” They did, closing in on you and grasping one of your arms each with as much power as they could muster. “Miss Runcorn, you go fetch Professor Snape. Tell him I need—”

A sharp knock on the door cut her off. A moment of confusion followed where everyone else in the room looked at one another.

“Well? Answer it!” Professor Umbridge snapped.

The Runcorn girl hurried to obey. Standing there illuminated by the torches in the dark hall was none other than:

“Mr. Malfoy? You are supposed to be on patrol.”

“I am,” he said as he stepped inside. “I just remembered something that I needed to tell you.”

“Can it not wait? I am in the middle of an interrogation.”

Draco’s gray eyes flashed toward you. Seeing him brought you no relief. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about, Professor. See, Pansy told me this morning over breakfast what she wanted to tell you, and I thought I told her what’s really going on, but it must have slipped her mind when she gave you her report.”

Pansy’s eyes seemed in danger of popping out of her skull. “Draco?”

He did not remove his gaze from the professor’s face. Millicent’s already firm grip on your wand arm grew tight to point of pain. You whimpered, which only caused Pansy to thrust the tip of her wand straight into your spine.

Professor Umbridge looked a little taken aback. “You have information for me about Miss [L Name]’s association with known criminals?”

Draco nodded.

“Then by all means, illuminate us.”

“I’m the one that told her to get in close with Creevey.”

“Draco!” Pansy said again. He ignored her.

If Professor Umbridge was shocked before, that was nothing compared to how she looked then. Her protuberant little eyes swept from your face and back to his repeatedly. Thankfully, you were too busy staring holes into the back of his blond head for you to give away just how surprised you were by the information yourself.

“You did?” she asked.

“Yeah. I figured he’d know what Potter was up to and where he was holding his meetings. He’s practically been on Potter like someone cast a permanent sticking charm to him since our second year. Sending someone in to make nice with him seemed like the best way to get him to talk.”

“Well…yes. I’ll admit the idea has some merit. All the same, you should have brought it up with the Inquisitorial Squad. I could have assigned someone more appropriate for the job.”

“You’re right, Professor, and I’m very sorry for sneaking around. I just thought it would be better if fewer people knew about the plan. After all, none of us knows just how many students Potter has got working for him. And if Creevey had any idea he was talking to a member of the Inquisitorial Squad…”

Draco did not finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. The badges pinned to every member of the Inquisitorial Squad’s chest made plain their allegiance to everyone in the school. If you’d ever worn one, Colin would have shut you out for good. Professor Umbridge’s eyes narrowed in thought.

“I see,” she said slowly. “And you chose Miss [L Name] for such an assignment because?”

“Because we had a run in with Creevey when we were kids. She had a good reason to try talking to him. And I trust her,” he answered, in the same bland tone he used on most of his instructors.

The pressure with which Millicent still held your arm caused prickles to surge up and down your arm. For once, you were grateful for the distraction, as it kept you from being too frightened to think. This helped quite a bit when Professor Umbridge suddenly spoke to you:

“Miss [L Name], is this true?”

“Uh—”

You saw Draco give a very minuscule nod of the head without turning to look at you. Everyone else in the room was too busy waiting for your answer to notice.

“Yes, ma'am,” you said quickly.

She let out a relieved, girlish giggle. “Of course it is. Mr. Malfoy is not a liar. You should have told me earlier!”

“I…I didn’t want to give him away,” you mumbled halfheartedly. Your heart pounded in your throat. Draco might have been an accomplished liar, but you had no such great talent. If Professor Umbridge suspected you for one a second, he had just ensured he would land in the boiling cauldron himself.

“I understand completely, dear. I only wish—Miss Parkinson! Miss Bulstrode! Release Miss [L Name] at once!”

“But—” Pansy began.

“Do not test my patience, Miss Parkinson. You should have told me this yourself. Instead, you have very nearly ruined the reputation of an innocent pure-blood! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

It was as though your skin turned red hot, that was how quickly Pansy let you go. Millicent did so a little more reluctantly, but without the fuss. Rubbing at the bruise you were no doubt developing where the latter’s hand had rested, you took a large enough step away from them and toward the teacher that you did not think yourself still at risk of being snatched.

“I am so very sorry, dear.” Professor Umbridge placed a thick hand on the small of your back to guide you toward one of the desk chairs. “It was not my intention to make a fuss. Can I get you anything? Tea? Gillywater?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you quite sure? I would love to have a little chat with you and Mr. Malfoy about your plan. How is it coming along? What has he told you?”

You opened your mouth, but of course no falsehood was forthcoming. Before the pause could become too suspicious, Draco stepped in once more:

“He hasn’t given us anything yet. But we’re close. Aren’t we, [Name]?”

“Yes!” you said, a little quickly with how pleased you were at being able to speak again. “Yes, I’m sure he’ll be giving me what you want any day now.”

“Perhaps we could discuss strategy? Just the three of us?” she suggested, with a pointed look at the trio of girls still standing a few feet away.

Draco took your shoulder in his hand. “No, thank you, Professor. I really ought to get back to my patrol. I just wanted to make sure you knew the truth before anything unpleasant could happen.”

“Yes. I appreciate that. You’ll give your father my apologies as well, won’t you, [Name]? I’m sure he’ll understand. We’re just trying to ensure that Cornelius’ vision is seen through here, and Potter is making it ever so difficult.”

“Of course,” you said automatically.

“And don’t forget to tell me the minute you have any information to pass on from the Creevey boy.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She didn’t seem to notice the way you answered in the smallest amount of words possible. If any of the other girls did, they were too cowed to say so. This came as something of a relief to you, since any longer responses would have required more thought process than you were capable of giving anything just then.

“I ought to get back on patrol,” Draco cut in smoothly. “I’ll see to it that [Name] gets back to the common room without incident.”

“Excellent idea. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

With his hand still on your shoulder, he steered you out the door, right past the stunned expressions of Pansy, Millicent, and Miss Runcorn. Were those tears you saw sparkling in the first’s hazel eyes?

You could not look at her long enough to tell for sure. Draco did not need to be quite so forceful in his leading either way; it was taking everything within you to keep yourself from sprinting back to your dormitory…not that there would be much safety there either. Surely Pansy had something else up her sleeve, some more horrid picture you’d crammed under five years’ worth of missed assignments and lost potion ingredients.

Sure enough, you heard her try to come after you both. “Draco! Why would you—”

“Miss Parkinson, you are not dismissed. You and I need to have a little chat about just why you lied to me this morning about Miss [L Name]’s activities.”

The door snapped shut behind you, but Draco did not let you go. He marched you down the corridor and several staircases without a uttering a single word. His silence might have frightened you more than his sudden appearance had to begin with. Were you in very much trouble? Your anxiety had you nearly breathless when at last you were released. You waited for him to remind you how to stupid you were, or to suggest you run off to Potter, or to tell you to pack your things before someone worse than Pansy tried to find you.

Draco did none of these things. After about half a minute had passed, you turned to see if he even remained behind you. He did, though you’d obviously taken long enough to bore him, for he was examining his fingernails with his usual haughty expression. It didn’t take you long to figure out exactly what he was waiting for.

“Thank you,” you said, not without sincerity.

“You’re welcome.”

“No. Really. I…things were about to get bad. But why did you…?”

“Help you?” Draco shrugged. “Pansy was out of line, that’s all.”

“She going to be really mad now, though.”

He shrugged again. Why not? She would probably not be slinging new hexes and curses at him over the coming weeks. “She’ll get over it. Like I said, she was out of line. I told her that picture was nothing to worry about, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Was this truly happening? Draco siding with you over his precious girlfriend? You half-expected Pansy herself to jump out from behind the nearby statue of the one-eyed witch to proclaim that she had caught you in the act of lying. In fact, you stared hard enough at the statue to make your eyes water, but Pansy did not appear.

“Here.”

Something thin pressed against the skin of your wrist. Looking down, you found Draco holding out yet another photograph. A great swell of nausea swept over you from head to toe. Fortunately, it was not a third example of your torrid behavior, only the one Pansy gave him the week before of him with his quidditch team.

“Take it,” he said waspishly, when your inaction continued for too long.

You swiftly pocketed the object.

“You might as well have it back,” Draco went on. “But if you behave smarter than you have been, you won’t be storing anymore pictures in your trunk. Pansy isn’t going to give up easily. She’ll look there again.”

The very thought made you tremble. What else lay forgotten in the bowels of your school debris? “I’ll stop having lessons with Colin. He won’t be upset. It’ll be safer that way. No more suspicion.”

“After all the trouble I just went to? No. You keep talking to Creevey. I meant what I said. He has information we need. Besides, if Professor Umbridge finds out that I lied for you, it’s more likely to wind up on your head than mine.”

“But—”

“What do you care more about, [Name]?” he asked impatiently. “It’s time to decide where your loyalties lie. I lied for you tonight because I used to trust you, but I’m not going to do it a second time. Things are going to change around here, whether that’s because of Umbridge or not. Whose side are you going to be on?”

He was right. You knew he was right. Whatever the Prophet said to the contrary, whatever line Professor Umbridge wanted all your fellow students to swallow, the life you had known up until then was rapidly drawing to a close. Colin had been kind to you over the course of the year: forgiving you for your childish cruelty, teaching you the one skill you cared to know, even risking his own neck to stay out past curfew when you couldn’t make it to your lessons on time…

…but he would not be benefited by whatever regime came next. Draco would. Not to mention that Draco had just risked his own status to rescue you in a way far more pressing than anything Colin risked. What were house points compared to whatever potion Professor Umbridge had very nearly stuffed down your throat?

“Okay,” you murmured. That was it. “Okay.”

That was all Draco needed. “Good. I’ve got to get back on patrol. Stay out of Pansy’s way if you know what’s good for you. And if anybody asks about your ‘mission,’ just tell them that you answer to me. Because you do now.”

He paused only long enough to see you nod. Then he turned to walk up the corridor. You watched his back until the whole of him disappeared around a corner. After that, you stood all alone in the vacant hall.

It was a wonder that the events of the night didn’t swallow you whole right then and there. Perhaps you were learning. Not wanting to chance Pansy or anyone else seeing you shake to pieces, you held yourself together for the duration of your walk back to the Slytherin common room. Only once you’d returned to your four poster and drawn the curtains did you allow yourself to cry.

Everything that had happened indicated that you’d made the right decision. You could continue your lessons with Colin; your father would be told you were a good pure-blood girl; and if you managed to get some real information, you’d earn some major points with whoever got hold of Hogwarts next. Draco had practically ensured your safety so long as you kept your head down.

So why did you feel even more wretched then than when he had accused you of being a blood traitor?

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

[waitineedaname]

Can’t remember the number but the prompt about hearing a song meant for their crush from their roommate’s room???

7. I have work in the morning and I can’t sleep while you’re making music next door, composing love songs for your secret crush.

Gordon was not a stranger to insomnia. Even before all the bullshit that had been thrown at him in Black Mesa, he’d had his fair share of sleepless nights. Anxiety and ADHD would do that to you. Of course, that had gotten significantly worse after he lived through his worst nightmares. It was easier to deal with these days, though. Time had passed since the Resonance Cascade, and he had spent a long time putting his life back together. Learning coping mechanisms, getting a much lower stress job as a physics professor, reconciling with Benrey, the whole nine yards. The night terrors and insomnia came far less frequently than they had when he was fresh out of the birthday bash at the end of the world. That didn’t mean they stopped coming all together, though.

It was one in the morning, if the glowing numbers on his alarm clock were to be trusted, and he had yet to fall asleep. His mind was racing, and not even in the typical anxiety way; he just couldn’t get it to shut up. It didn’t help that he had a class to teach in the morning. He was begging his brain to let him rest, but instead it decided to fixate on anything thought that passed by, like midterms coming up or the TV shows he loved as a child or all the noise coming from Benrey’s room.

Gordon ran his hands down his face and groaned. Yeah, Benrey deciding to compose music in the middle of the night definitely wasn’t helping his sleep. What the hell was that guy even doing? Fuck it, Gordon decided. He wasn’t getting any sleep anyway. Might as well ask Benrey about their music.

He shuffled down the hall, mumbling curses when he stubbed his toes on the furniture barely visible in the dim moonlight. He paused outside Benrey’s room and listened a moment. Some of the sounds were the tell-tale tones of Sweet Voice, sometimes low and resonant, sometimes sweeping to high flute-like notes. Behind the Sweet Voice beeps was the sound of a piano, played with inexperienced hands but still harmonizing surprisingly well. Occasionally, one of the piano notes would come out sour, a key clearly being missed, and the Sweet Voice would be cut off with a non-melodic noise of annoyance before being picked up again.

Gordon had planned to knock on Benrey’s door, but he couldn’t help but stand there a while longer. The song Benrey was putting together was… really pretty, actually. He didn’t know a damn thing about music, but something about Benrey’s song struck a chord inside his chest.

He suddenly realized how weird it was that he was just standing there outside their door, and he shuffled awkwardly before knocking. The music immediately came to a screeching halt, and the silence that fell over the apartment was momentarily deafening. Then there was the sound of Benrey getting up, and then the door opened a few inches, allowing Benrey to peer out.

“Whuh?” They said, squinting up at him. “Thought you went to bed, man.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Gordon glanced over the top of Benrey’s head and saw a few Sweet Voice orbs still illuminating their otherwise dark room. The bubbles painted the room in a warm orange and pink glow, like an extremely localized sunset. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Benrey said immediately, then thought better of it. “Just making music. Dumb, uh, dumb idiot doesn’t even know music? Only listens to Linking Perk? Pork Links? Not very kosher of you, dude.”

“Shut up,” Gordon said, despite laughing. “Can I listen?”

Benrey visibly hesitated, almost to the point that Gordon considered retracting his request and shuffling back to bed, but they eventually nodded and stepped away from the door so Gordon could follow them into their room.

Gordon had been in Benrey’s room a few times before, usually to grab something they’d forgotten and couldn’t get themself or something, but usually he didn’t intrude. It was their space, and everybody needed their own space. Benrey inviting him into their room in the middle of the night felt like an expression of trust that still baffled Gordon every time he thought about it too much; how had they come this far? Benrey sat down on the small piano bench in front of the keyboard Gordon had bought them when he realized they needed some kind of constructive hobby, and after a beat of consideration, Gordon settled down at the other end of the bench.

“Don’t be a dick, okay?” Benrey warned him. “This is a once in a lifetime concert. I don’t perform for just anybody.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Gordon put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll keep my comments to a minimum.”

Benrey huffed but apparently deemed that response acceptable. They cleared their throat, put their hands on the keys, and began singing. Gordon was immediately entranced. It started as a low orange note, sustained with a major chord on the piano. Slowly, it was accented with notes of pink and shimmering blue. It sped up, becoming playful, then took on a treacherous minor key peppered with discordant notes, before resolving into a major key that exuded warmth and comfort. All throughout the performance, Gordon was transfixed by the Sweet Voice filling the room, enshrouding him and Benrey in light. The more he watched and listened, the more he thought he might recognize the Sweet Voice colors. There, the orange tone Benrey occasionally sang directly into Gordon’s face by way of greeting, followed by an orange-blue gradient Benrey sang when they were excited to go on an outing with Gordon. The playful pink Gordon learned to associate with Benrey’s laughter, the soft yellow they used when Gordon was too stressed to sleep. The bruised purple color Gordon remembered from bad nights, thankfully distant memories now, and then the gentle lavender of the comfortable mornings that replaced them. Then laced throughout it all, the pink to blue gradient that always embarrassed Benrey and reminded Gordon of the bi flag, hidden under other layers of music as if Gordon wouldn’t notice.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long the song went on, but eventually, it faded into silence as the last few bubbles of light escaped Benrey’s mouth and their fingers stilled on the keys. Gordon didn’t dare say a word, awestruck into silence. Benrey, however, fidgeted and felt the need to speak. “It’s not done,” They said, as if defensive. “It’s still… I gotta make it perfect, you know?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Gordon said, and he meant it. Benrey immediately looked embarrassed and turned their head away to sing that pink to blue string of Sweet Voice. “What is it about?”

“It’s, uh…” Benrey trailed off, rubbing some dust off one of the lower keys. “It’s about… I dunno, life? Living here. With you. And being your friend. And, uh. Yeah. Mostly about you.”

“...Me?” Gordon asked, shocked. Benrey continued to avoid his gaze. “Holy shit. I don’t think anyone’s made a song for me before.”

“Mm. Well, feel grateful. Asshole,” Benrey’s heart wasn’t in the insult for once, clearly deflecting. Gordon smiled and scooted closer on the piano bench, leaning against them affectionately.

“It was beautiful. Thank you, Ben.” Gordon pressed a kiss to their cheek, then stood. “I think I’m gonna go to bed for real now. Good night.”

Benrey had their lips closed tightly, holding back Sweet Voice, and nodded instead of responding verbally. When Gordon closed the door behind him, he could still hear and see the pink to blue Sweet Voice from under the door. He wandered back to bed, soothed and happy, and fell asleep to the sounds of Benrey’s composition drifting down the hall once more.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne: Part 2 (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After auditioning for who is often considered to be the world’s scariest conductor, you begin working for Agatha Harkness and the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra. 

Word Count: 4.9K

Link: Dvorak’s New World Symphony: Movement 4 (Performed by the Vienna Philharmonic)

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGdtkUiKaA8

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m back with part two of Chaconne. I’ve included another link to the fourth movement of Dvorak in case anyone would like to listen, (it’s one of my favorite recordings and I definitely recommend it) but if classical music isn’t your jam I understand. Also, I would like to warn this is going to be major slow burn, but I promise there is a light at the end of the tunnel...eventually. Part 3 should be uploaded in a few days! I hope all of you enjoy it, and as always please feel free to leave a comment :) Oh! Also I think I’m going to make a taglist for this story, so if you would like to be added just comment or send me a message.

A week later marked the first symphony rehearsal of the season. You had barely seen Agatha all day. The woman was running from meeting to meeting with investors and the board so she had given you small tasks to complete in her absence. You were busy rearranging the small personal music library she kept in her office when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” You called out as you began sorting through the Baroque Era.

The door opened a moment later and you were glancing at a few different scores when you heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, you saw Wanda Maximoff standing in the doorway.

“Well hello there,” Wanda drawled out, clearly looking surprised. It took you a second to wonder why until you realized you were in Agatha’s office. “You’re not Agatha.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “No...um, no I’m not. I’m Agatha’s new assistant, Y/N.”

Wanda gave you a curious glance. “Her assistant,” she mused, taking a step further into the office. “Does she treat you well?”

You shrugged. “She feeds me a few times a day, buys me coffee. It could be a lot worse.”

Wanda chuckled. “Well it is very nice to meet you. I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

“I know who you are,” You blurted out before realizing how creepy that may have sounded. Glancing at Wanda, you were relieved that she seemed more amused than anything else. “I mean, it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maximoff. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Call me Wanda,” The pianist insisted. “You’re sweet. I’m surprised Agatha hasn’t had you running for the hills.”

You felt strangely defensive over the criticism regarding Agatha. “She really isn’t bad. I’m learning so much from her.”

Wanda looked surprised but smiled nonetheless. “You’re a very sweet girl, aren’t you? Do you know when Agatha will be back?”

“Um...” You trailed off and tried to remember when Agatha said she would be done. “It might be a while.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Wanda said confidently, taking a seat in a leather chair. “I can keep you company.”

So you spent the next half hour sorting through music. At some point Wanda had offered to assist you, and although you assured her you were fine, she insisted. Which is how you found yourself discussing your favorite eras of music with one of your favorite musicians.

“Well isn’t this cozy,” Agatha’s voice rang out from the doorway causing you to jump.

The conductor had a scowl on her face and you could practically see the anger seething out of her. Wanda, on the other hand, smiled brightly at Agatha. “Agatha, so lovely to see you again. I was just getting to know your assistant. She’s a delight.”

Agatha glared at the woman, before giving you a quick once over. “Of course she is. What are you doing in my office, Maximoff? We aren’t rehearsing with you until next week.”

Wanda shrugged, not phased by the other woman’s attitude. “I thought I would stop by to catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve worked together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. When did Agatha and Wanda work together? Agatha certainly had a lot of negative thoughts regarding the younger woman, so it would make sense that they had worked together at some point. You were just surprised Agatha never brought it up during one of her many long ‘Maximoff Rants.’

“I’m very busy,” Agatha replied, appearing to grow angrier with every word that came out of the red head’s mouth. “Right, dear?”

At first you wondered who she was talking to, until you noticed the pointed look she was giving you. You offered Wanda a polite smile before slowly heading over towards your boss. “Of course, Miss Harkness. You have to leave for your meeting with potential new investors and then we have to discuss new programs and publicity posters before rehearsal this evening.”

“I see,” Wanda was giving both of you a look that suggested she knew you were lying. “Well I should be on my way then. Lovely seeing you again Agatha, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” she said sweetly as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze on her way out of the office.

Once she was gone, Agatha all but slammed the door shut and your eyes widened at how angry she appeared.

“What did she say to you?” Agatha asked curiously eyeing you.

You shrugged, because Wanda didn’t really say anything to you. At least not anything important. “Nothing really. She asked who I was, insisted she wanted to wait for you to come back, and then she offered to help me sort through the music.”

“I didn’t realize the work I gave you was so complex it required a second set of hands,” Agatha spat out as she slowly moved closer to you, and you wondered what you said to get that reaction.

“It wasn’t,” you argued, feeling your temper grow and getting more flustered as Agatha moved even closer to you. “She was just being nice.”

Agatha huffed and stalked back to her desk. “Fine. She was just being nice. Now no more talk of Maximoff. I’m starting to get a migraine.”

“I’ll go get you some tea,” You offered, as you had become more familiar with the conductor’s frequent stress migraines.

Agatha merely nodded and began sorting through her scores for rehearsal and you set off to brew some tea in the kitchen. You brushed off her strange behavior as the anger that came with seeing Wanda Maximoff.

The rest of the afternoon passed by smoothly. Agatha eventually told you to go home for a few hours despite your protests to stay. She was still a tad bit grumpy from her run in with Wanda, so she all but shoved you out the door and said if she saw you back here before 6:00 that she would make sure it would be your last time attending rehearsal.

Finding yourself back at the concert hall an hour before rehearsal started, you made your way to Agatha’s office and used the key she had given you to let yourself in. You had to grab the boxes filled with folders of music, as well as Agatha’s scores and her favorite baton. Your eyes scanned the dozens of identical batons that the older woman had before you found the one she requested you grab.

There weren’t many personal items in Agatha’s office. Granted she had only been here for around a month, but still. It was basically bare, save for a few photos of her pet bunny, Señor Scratchy. You had often wondered what the conductor did when she wasn’t here, but you had never felt comfortable enough to ask. Agatha was...private, and while you respected her privacy a part of you wondered what she was like when she wasn’t in scary conductor mode.

A quick glance at the clock alerted you to head to the hall before the players started to arrive. You quickly locked up the office before hurrying through the building, arms filled with boxes.

“I should’ve brought these in before I left,” You mumbled out loud as you balanced the boxes in one hand to unlock the stage door with your other hand.

“Well yes dear, but that would’ve required thought,” Agatha said with a smirk as she came up from behind you.

You cursed and jumped, glaring at the woman who scared you half to death. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Agatha held the door open for you and shrugged in response as you passed her. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to scare.”

“You’re evil,” You told her, but your tone was teasing. “And you’re early.”

“It’s my first rehearsal, I want to be prepared,” Agatha explained but you knew her well enough to know what that meant.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know,” You said reassuringly as she grabbed one of the boxes from you to set on the stage.

Agatha scowled and gave you a dirty look. “I am not nervous. I’m Agatha Harkness. I don’t get nervous.”

“Right and you’re also nothing like Wanda Maximoff, right?” You fired back, enjoying the glower she gave you.

Agatha huffed. “I liked it better when you were afraid of me.”

You laughed as you began placing the folders on their respective stands. “I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of disappointing you.” And you were still afraid of disappointing her, but you would never vocalize that.

Agatha gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before she helped you with the folders. “Where’s your violin?”

“In your office,” You reminded her. “Remember, I told you I was leaving it there until after rehearsal?”

“Well how are you going to play in,” She checked her watch, “Fourty-five minutes without an instrument?”

You stared at her in shock. “But...but I thought I didn’t get the first violin spot?”

“You didn’t,” Agatha admitted. “But I haven’t hired anyone else and I still need to update our sub list. So there will be an empty chair for rehearsal.”

“Which means?” You pressed, needing to hear the words from her.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Needy as ever for the praise I see. Grab your instrument and get your ass on stage in ten minutes before I change my mind.”

You practically skipped off stage, not believing what you were hearing. You were going to perform with the Manhattan Symphony! Sure it was just a rehearsal, and the first rehearsal at that, but you didn’t care. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down.

By the time you returned with your instrument, some of the players had started to arrive. You recognized a few of the violinists from different gigs you had played over the past couple of years. Scanning the stage, you spotted Agatha in one of the first rows in the audience, drinking a bottle of water. She noticed you staring and motioned for you to come join her.

You set your case down next to her bag. “Thank you for letting me play in rehearsal today.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Agatha questioned, looking at you with curiosity. “I need a violinist for today’s rehearsal. You’re my assistant who will do whatever you can to please me. It’s common sense.”

You rolled your eyes at her but smiled nonetheless. “You really can’t let me be nice, can you?”

Agatha laughed and patted you on the arm. “You’re finally catching on, dear. Now get on stage and warm up. I can’t have my assistant embarrassing me in front of the entire ensemble.”

You did as you were told and sat in the last chair of the first violin section. The other members of the ensemble gradually made their way to their respective seats to begin warming up, and Agatha stayed at her spot still drinking her water. Your stand partner eventually made their way over to you and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Monica,” the woman said politely as she sat in the chair next to yours.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you replied with a small smile. “Have you been with the symphony for a while?”

“This is my fifth season,” Monica replied with a shrug. “Should be a little more interesting with Harkness in charge at least.”

You vaguely remembered the rumors that the last music director had been voted off by the board due to his age, but you couldn’t remember his name.

“Yeah, she’s really great,” You said happily. Monica gave you a curious glance. “I’m actually her assistant.”

Monica raised her eyebrows at that revelation. “Oh, wow. What’s that like?”

You shrugged, and noted that was the second time someone had that reaction. “Pretty standard I guess.”

“I was wondering who she hired for the section after cancelling the blind auditions,” Monica admitted. “She gave those violinists quite a scare.”

“Well I’m not hired for this,” You quickly backtracked. “She just hadn’t filled the seat and she needed a sub for today so-“

Monica laughed. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. It’s nice to have you here. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

A few minutes later, the chatter and warming up abruptly stopped when Agatha took the podium. The ensemble stared at their new conductor, curious as to how she would start their first rehearsal. Instead, Agatha raised her baton and the ensemble lifted their instruments in preparation.

“Movement four of Dvorak,” Agatha said and allowed everyone a moment to flip to the respective movement.

She raised her baton again and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you waited in anticipation for her to begin. Over the past few weeks you had studied Agatha’s conducting technique. Watching her move her hands in formation was so beautiful, she was easily the most skilled conductor you had ever observed. Her eyes raked over the ensemble and landed on yours, and with a smirk she gave the upbeat to begin.

Dvorak’s New World Symphony was one of the first full symphonies you remembered playing back in your high school youth symphony. It was breathtaking, full of colorful phrases and swirling melodies in every movement that left both the player and listener eager for more. The fourth movement seemed to tie it all together.

Despite it being the first rehearsal, the ensemble played relatively well. Agatha was mindlessly conducting, her gaze fixated on different ensemble members, and you knew she probably had so many quick witted insults stewing in her brain. You meanwhile couldn’t keep your eyes from watching her conduct. Sure, watching old videos of her conducting different orchestras was great, your personal favorite was of her performance conducting Tchaikovsky’s 4th Symphony with The Chicago Symphony. You also loved sitting in her office and watching her get lost in her scores, seemingly oblivious to your gaze locked on her baton and the way her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

But this...this was pure beauty. It was like she was painting a canvas using her baton as a paint brush. Even with her gaze focused elsewhere, she knew the score backwards and forwards and you saw her give every cue without even taking a second to glance down at the music. It was magical; she was magical.

The movement progressed and you had reached one of you favorite spots. There was a phrase transition that featured a slow and melodic theme that was passed throughout the orchestra. It started in the winds and you smiled at the serene sounds of the oboe that featured accompaniment from the strings before the melody was eventually passed to the violin section. While most violinists enjoyed playing fast and thrilling passages that left their fingers aching and bow arm sore, you had always secretly preferred the sweeter themes, the soaring melodies that kept growing and filled your heart with so much warmth.

Closing your eyes to play a passage you had long ago memorized, Dvorak had always been a favorite, you took a second to enjoy the unique feeling that every musician shared. Making music was an intimate experience. The ability to bring together dozens of people from different walks of life. To put aside any problems from everyday life and just take those brief moments to focus on nothing but their craft. Your happiest memories were of the time you spent in orchestra rehearsals. All of the hard, and sometimes grueling, work that went into perfecting each measure and making sure each section played as one giant instrument. All of it was worth it once you made it to the performance, and you swore there was nothing that could bring you more bliss than a live performance.

The movement progressed and Agatha was fully in her element. The woman was the most confident conductor you had ever encountered. Sure, she was a bit...cocky...but she had every right to be. This was the only first rehearsal you had ever attended where the conductor had effortlessly led the ensemble through tempo changes and cues without any faults.

With a whirlwind of fast passages and high notes that had you breathless, you reached the grand finale. You would occasionally glance up to check you were following Agatha’s tempo, and it took everything in you to not keep your gaze entirely fixated on her.

Agatha left her baton raised for a moment before finally lowering it, and you could tell by the passive look on her face that she was not pleased. “Well that was disappointing. Have any of you played in an ensemble before today?”

Directing her gaze to the principal flutist, she waved her hand. “And don’t even get me started on the mess over here. Are you trying to make my ears bleed? I’ve heard first graders who have a better tone than you.”

The principal flutist frowned. “With all due respect Maestra, it’s our first rehearsal and we’re a little rusty.”

“Did I ask for excuses?” Agatha questioned, and you knew the rest of rehearsal would only be downhill from there. If there was one thing Agatha Harkness hated it was excuses. “What’s your name?”

“Dottie Jones.”

“Well, Dottie,” Agatha sneered. “Since you apparently know more than I do, why don’t you come up here and conduct?”

Well shit. You didn’t see that coming. You glanced over to Monica and found she had the same shocked expression on her face as you did.

“Maestra I don’t-“ Dottie tried to argue, and you couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pity for the woman because you knew Agatha always got what she wanted.

“Now!” Agatha yelled and threw her baton on the stand. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Is she always like this?” Monica whispered to you and you shrugged.

That was a good question. In the few weeks you worked for Agatha, you had grown used to her intense presence and ever changing mood swings. You would never admit it to her face, but you actually found it kind of charming in a weird and twisted sort of way, because you knew Agatha only acted this way to assert her dominance. The music world had predominantly been led by men. The vast majority of the most famous and beloved composers were men. For the majority of your playing career the conductors you encountered were men. Hell, even the majority of symphony orchestras had male concert masters.

“She likes to keep things interesting,” You whispered back while keeping your gaze locked on the scene occurring on the podium.

Dottie had reluctantly made her way through the ensemble to stand on the podium where Agatha stood to the side with her arms folded across her chest.

“Any day now, Dottie,” Agatha mocked and you grimaced. Not even a half hour in and she had already lost her temper.

To Dottie’s credit she appeared relatively calm as she picked up the baton Agatha threw on the stand. The orchestra readied themselves to begin, but you kept your gaze locked on Agatha. What was she playing at?

Dottie gave the upbeat and the opening notes of Dvorak rang out. The flutist was a decent conductor, but you knew it was a losing battle. Her technique was nowhere as refined as Agatha’s and you could tell she was trying her best to keep the ensemble from falling apart. You made it through ten bars before Agatha made her way to the podium and raised one hand, and everyone immediately stopped.

“Well Dottie what do you think?”

“I think I should go back to my seat and leave the conducting to you,” Dottie offered weakly.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “Ah. I see.” She waited for Dottie to sit back down before continuing. “Some of you may find my methods crazy. Some of you may say that I’m too mean, that I’m pushing you too hard. However, there is a reason for all of this.”

She pointed her baton at the principal oboe. “You? What’s your name?”

“Oh, um...” The man stammered and Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Name!”

“Jimmy Woo.”

“Jimmy Woo,” Agatha repeated with a frown on her face. “How long have you been with the symphony?”

“This is my third season, Maestra,” Jimmy said with a smile.

Agatha nodded. “I need to hear more of you. We need to work on your projection to come over the strings without making it too nasally. Not bad for the first rehearsal, Woo.”

“Thank you, Maestra.”

“Now Woo, how would you say the past three seasons have gone?” Agatha prompted.

“Maestra?” Jimmy asked, appearing confused by the question.

Agatha let out a huff. “How have you felt the orchestra has performed for the past three seasons, Woo?”

“You want my honest opinion, Maestra?”

You watched Agatha tense up and you internally sighed. Another thing Agatha hated was pointless questions.

“No, Woo, I want you to change into a tutu and do pliés,” Agatha dryly commented.

Jimmy let out a bit of nervous laughter which quickly ended when Agatha glared at him. “Right. Well, I guess I feel like we’re losing our touch.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Thank you, Woo,” Agatha said before turning her attention to the rest of the ensemble. “The Manhattan Symphony was once the world’s finest orchestra. But all of you have gotten too comfortable. You’ve stopped making music and now are simply playing notes on a page. You’ve gotten lazy.”

There we go. The third thing Agatha hated. Laziness. You swore the woman was constantly on the move. There was one Friday afternoon where you had suggested taking a half day to enjoy the sunshine, which led Agatha to go on a twenty minute long rant (you timed it) that you could enjoy the sunshine when you were dead in a grave. Needless to say, you never asked to leave work early again.

You watched the conductor place her baton on the stand and wave her arms around. “I want this orchestra to regain its rightful place on top of the musical community. But this is going to require work from every single individual in this room. So, this is your first and only warning. If you are not going to put your entire soul into this orchestra, consider this your last rehearsal. Everyone is replaceable and I promise you will not be missed.”

You raised your bow to signal you had a question. Agatha’s head whipped around to look at you, and you could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Something you wish to add?”

“And if we stay?” You asked, thinking back to the very same question you asked her the day of the audition.

That earned you a smile so small it was almost impossible to see, and it went away as quickly as it appeared. “If you choose to stay, I am going to work you hard. I don’t want to hear any whining or complaints, only promises to do better. Are we clear?”

Silence from the room was taken as a yes. Agatha raised her baton. “Good. Flip to measure 21. Woo I want to work on your entrance. First violins, I know you love being the center of attention but you need to follow the dynamics on the page, circle them if you must. Flutes please try to not to fuck up your eighth notes otherwise I will make sure the only orchestra you play for is in the middle of Antartica.”

The rest of rehearsal went better than it started. Agatha was her usual slightly snarky self, and the rest of the ensemble was learning not to question her. You went to pack up your instrument when Monica motioned for you to come join her.

“I’m not sure if you have any plans but a few of us are going to get drinks if you want to join,” Monica offered and you were touched by her kindness.

“That’s so sweet but I’m actually pretty tired,” You said apologetically. Which was partially true, but you also wanted to make sure Agatha went home and didn’t stay cooped up in her office all night.

“Well if you change your mind, shoot me a text,” Monica insisted as she handed you her phone to put in your contact information. She took the phone back and sent you a message. “There’s my number.”

You thanked her again before heading over to where Agatha was silently stewing. A quick glance at her confirmed that she was still in a bad mood and you chose to silently pack up your instrument while shooting her quick and cautious glances.

“I can feel you staring,” Agatha finally looked up at you. “I want to redo the string parts for Maximoff’s piece. We need to fix a few of the bowings. I want everything to be set for our first rehearsal with her.” She noticed your hesitation. “Unless you have other plans.”

“Oh no, my dream Friday night is being holed up in your office marking Rachmaninoff,” You joked and grinned when she rolled her eyes.

“Funny, dear. Very funny,” Agatha deadpanned, motioning for you to follow her. “But I don’t pay you to make jokes.”

An hour later you were done with the bowings while Agatha had spent the time reading a book. She had a pair of glasses on and her feet were up on her desk, it was the most relaxed you had ever seen her.

“You’re finished?” Agatha asked, not looking up from her book. “Good,” she said and slammed the book closed. “Now, we didn’t get a chance to do this earlier due to my Maximoff induced migraine, so grab that violin and come with me. I want to see how relaxed your bow hold is after rehearsing.”

“Actually, I was going to suggest that we call it a night?” You asked tentatively, gauging her reaction. “You’ve had a long day and-“

“And what? I’m so old I need to be in bed before ten?” Agatha inquired, slowly taking off her glasses.

“You’re not old,” You blurted out and Agatha smirked at you. Blushing, you looked at the floor. “But maybe it would do you good to get some rest?”

“Trying to give me orders again, darling?” Agatha teased and even though you weren’t looking at her, you knew she was still smirking. “I’m not so sure I like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” You mumbled whilst Agatha laughed.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Agatha said. “If it will get you to shut up, I’ll call it a night and go home. But I expect you back here tomorrow morning so we can make up our session. We’re finally starting to crack the surface of your true potential and I won’t have you wasting it because you need to sleep.”

You had waited for Agatha to pack up her bag and followed her out of the building. This was the first time you had left at the same time as the older woman. She usually sent you on your way long before she was ready to head out for the evening. She had her town car waiting for her out front, and she frowned as she watched you prepare to walk home.

“You’re not planning on walking alone at this hour are you?” Agatha questioned and looked at you like you were an idiot.

You shrugged. “I only live a few blocks away.” Which was a bit of a lie, but she didn’t have to know that. “And if anyone gives me a hard time I can just whack them with this.” You motioned to your hard case violin.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’ll allow you to wander the streets like a lost little puppy,” Agatha reprimanded you. “Get in the car.”

“I’m not getting in your car,” You argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“Darling I’m not going to tell you again. Get in the car,” Agatha repeated and then smirked. “Unless you’d rather I drag you kicking and screaming.”

You glared at her. Damn her for making everything sound so...suggestive. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” Agatha said as you followed her in the car, and she patted the seat next to hers. “Now where do you live?”

You gave her driver the instructions to your apartment and then made yourself comfortable in the car. There was a few minutes of awkward silence which you spent staring out the window, and Agatha spent staring at you.

“Ya know, you usually call me out for staring at you,” You finally spoke up, the silence starting to eat away at you.

“I am not staring at you,” Agatha lightly argued before changing the subject. “I never asked how you thought I did tonight.”

“What?”

Agatha frowned at you. “How do you think I led the rehearsal?”

That was new. Over the past few weeks Agatha had never asked you for your opinion on anything regarding her conducting, because why would she? Agatha was the most confident person you had ever met, and a part of you was envious at how she presented herself to the world.

You took a moment to glance over at her and found yourself staring into bright blue eyes. “I...I thought you were brilliant. But, you were a little too nice. I don’t think I saw anyone cry.”

Agatha’s expression lightened and you felt your heartbeat grow rapid at the sight of her smile. “Still making jokes, darling? Perhaps I’m going too easy on you.”

The rest of the car ride fell back into a more comfortable silence, and before long Agatha’s driver pulled up to your modest but nice apartment building.

You grabbed your violin case and offered Agatha a small smile. “Thank you for giving me a ride home.”

“Thank Hank, he did the driving.”

“Right,” You frowned. “Well, goodnight.”

Agatha briefly touched your arm as you went to exit the car, and you felt goosebumps at the sensation. “Goodnight, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.”

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

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